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"I didn't ask for an explanation." In quick jerks, he zipped the bag.
"No," she said slowly. "You've already made up your mind what you saw, what it meant. What I am."
"I'll tell you what I saw." He dipped his hands into his pockets to keep them off her throat. But his fingers brushed the velvet box he carried and doubled his fury and pain. "I saw you in the bedroom, a couple of glasses of champagne, nice soft light coming in through the lace curtains. A very romantic setting. You had your mouth on anot
her man—your usual type, too, if I'm not mistaken. Fiftyish, rich, foreign."
He lifted the bag from the hanger, folded it. "What it meant, Margo, is that I walked in on the first act. You should be able to figure out what that makes you."
She would rather he'd used his fists on her. Surely there would have been less pain in that. "You believe that?"
He hesitated. How could she sound so hurt? How dare she sound hurt after she'd ripped out his heart and stomped on it while it was still beating. "You've sold sex your whole life, duchess. Why should you change?"
What little color that was left in her cheeks drained. "I suppose that's true. It looks like my mistake was giving it to you for free."
"Nothing's free." He bit off the words like stringy meat. "And you had your fun as well. I fit most of the requirements, didn't I? I'm not old enough to be your father, but I qualify for the rest. Rich, restless, irresponsible. Just another social piranha living off the family fortune."
"That's not true," she said, furious with panic. "I don't think—"
"We know what we think of each other, Margo." He spoke calmly now, had to speak calmly. "You've never had any more respect for me than you do for yourself. I thought I could live with that. I was wrong. I told you in the beginning I don't share, and I don't want a woman who thinks I'm stupid enough, or shallow enough, to overlook her old friends."
"Josh." She stepped forward, but he slung the bag over his arm.
"I'd like you out by the end of the week."
"Of course." She stood where she was as he brushed by her. She didn't cry, not even when she heard the door close. She simply sank to the floor and rocked.
"Byron De Witt agreed to take over Ridgeway's position. He'll be ready to make the move to California in six to eight weeks."
"That's fine." Thomas sipped his after-dinner coffee and exchanged a look with his wife as their son prowled the drawing room of their villa. "He's a good man. Sharp. Tough-minded."
"You'll go back." Susan crossed her legs. "Through the transitional period."
"It's not really necessary. Things are again in running order. I wasn't able to lure our old chef back." He flashed a fleeting grin. "But the one I stole from the BHH is working out well."
"Hmm." He needed to go back, Susan thought, but she would work on that. "How's Laura doing in Conventions?"
"She's a Templeton." He started toward the brandy, reminded himself that was too easy, and settled for coffee. "She's got a knack for handling people."
Susan lifted a brow, a signal that she was tossing the ball back into her husband's court. He picked it up smoothly.
"And she's putting in time at the shop? Not overdoing, is she?"
"Kate says not. She's a reliable source."
"I'd feel better if one of us could keep an eye on her for a while yet. She's in a rough patch."
"Dad, she's handling it. I can't go play baby-sitter."
"You look tired," Susan said mildly. "That's probably why you're so cranky. Remember, Tommy, how he'd squall if he missed his nap?"
"Jesus. I'm not cranky. I'm trying to get business settled. I have to be in Glasgow tomorrow afternoon. I don't have time to…" He caught himself as his parents watched him indulgently. There was nothing worse than being smiled at like a fretful child. Unless it was being a fretful child. "Sorry."
"Don't give it a thought." Thomas rose, slapped him on the back. "What you need's a drink, a cigar, and a nice game of billiards."
Josh rubbed his tired eyes. When was the last time he'd slept, really slept? Two weeks? Three? "It couldn't hurt," he decided.
"You go ahead, Tommy, and set things up for your man hour." She patted the cushion beside her. "I want Josh to keep me company for a few more minutes."
