[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Glad to hear it, he returned, and smiled more broadly. Come in and meet our guests.
He propelled them past Diane and into the parlor where a tall, silver-haired man was waiting. He
looked bored and half out of humor. His wife, an insignificant little blonde woman dressed in pink,
sat quietly on the velvet-covered couch, looking haunted. A tall, very good-looking young man about
Claire s age lounged with one hand on the mantel. He looked toward the newcomers and the boredom
abruptly left his face. He smiled at Claire.
She was taken aback when he came forward as the introductions were made and possessed
himself of Claire s hand.
No one told me that Mr. Hawthorn had such a lovely daughter, he said, oblivious to the sudden
shocked silence around him. I m Ted Whitfield, and I certainly hope to see more of you while we re
in Atlanta, he added, kissing her hand.
A viselike hand on her arm pulled her back to John s side. He glared at the younger man,
assailed by a surge of jealousy that shocked him. I m John Hawthorn. And this is Claire. My wife,
he added deliberately.
Ted wasn t the least perturbed. He only grinned. He looked rakish, with his blond hair and blue
eyes and handsome face. Is she, now? Well, well.
Ted, mind your manners, Mr. Whitfield said abruptly.
Sure, Daddy, he drawled.
John is our vice president, Eli continued, a little shaken by Ted s unexpected behavior. A
worthy addition to the bank. He s a Harvard graduate, you know.
I m a Princeton man, myself, Ted said.
Which class? John asked, with a mocking smile.
Ted looked uncomfortable. Well, I haven t actually graduated yet.
Oh?
Amazing, Claire thought, listening, how easily John could imbue that word with shades of
contempt and hauteur. Her husband was still very much an unknown quantity. He intimidated the
younger man without even trying.
But Ted is at the top of his class, aren t you, my darling? Mrs. Whitfield purred at her
handsome son, glaring at John. He s very intelligent, she added for good measure, her face flushed
with irritation.
Obviously, John drawled.
Would you like a drink before dinner? Eli asked abruptly, staring pointedly at John.
I don t think so, John replied, glancing with raised brow at the brandy snifter in Ted s hand.
The look and the implication were enough to make everyone more uncomfortable, especially Diane.
Claire was surprised at the way John behaved toward Ted. The boy was young and harmless, but
John seemed to find him offensive. Diane, on the other hand, was kindness itself to the young man,
putting herself out to make him feel at home. Claire wondered if she was doing it on purpose, to
chastise John for his rudeness to Ted on Claire s behalf.
The dinner was an ordeal for Claire. Noah Whitfield seemed very straitlaced, and his
conversation was limited to financial talk that went right over Claire s head. Diane hung on every
word, although Claire was certain that the woman didn t understand anything about money except the
spending of it. Perhaps her fascination with Mr. Whitfield had more to do with his wealth than his
conversation, Claire thought wickedly.
After the meal, the ladies retired to the living room for conversation while the men closed the
sliding doors into the parlor so that they could enjoy brandy and cigars.
That was a lovely meal, Diane, Mrs. Whitfield said. You must have your cook share her
broccoli soup recipe with mine.
I ll certainly ask her, Jennifer, Diane replied graciously. My, what a lovely gown you re
wearing. Is it a Paris label?
Of course, the older woman replied, with a smile. Etienne Dupree. You must know of him.
Indeed.
And your gown certainly has the hallmark of Paris, Jennifer added.
How perceptive of you to notice! It s Charmonne.
They were shutting Claire out, and doing a magnificent job of it. She was made to feel the little
country girl supping with her betters.
She stood up.
Oh, excuse me, Claire. I didn t mean to exclude you from our conversation, Diane purred.
Claire gave her a level, unblinking look that made her color. One of my mother s cousins was a
Baptist minister, she said quietly. I remember her telling me that he walked everywhere to preach,
and that sometimes his shoes were incredibly muddy. One Sunday, while he was preaching, a young
man in the audience kept looking at his dirty shoes with a sort of contempt. My cousin stopped in the
middle of his sermon to remind the young man that God was surely more interested in the condition
of his soul than in the state of his shoes. She smiled as the message went home to the other two.
Sometimes it behooves us to remember that heaven has no social levels, and that beggars and queens
will walk the same streets on that side of life.
Mrs. Whitfield went red. Well, of course they will. I certainly never meant any offense!
Nor I, Diane said uncomfortably.
Claire s eyes didn t waver. I have no envy of your position and wealth, she said. And I covet
nothing of yours, she added pointedly and with a smile, despite her anger.
Diane got up from her chair, flushed. It s rather warm in here, isn t it? I ll have the maid damp
down the fire.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]