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“And your fiancé?” he asked. “Would he be shocked?”
He paused, then added, “Jealous, perhaps?”
“Peter? Good heavens, no, why should he be? He
trusts me.”
Marc was silent for a moment, and she thought he
had gone to sleep, but then he spoke again, making her
start, his tone sharp and unpleasant.
“Oh, he trusts you, does he? But what about me? Does
he trust me? A stranger of whom he knows nothing?”
She opened her mouth, but how could she bear to let
him know that Peter was too absorbed in his work to
care what she did?
He waited for her to answer, then said, “You have
been engaged for a long time. When do you plan to
marry?”
“Oh, some time next year,” she said vaguely. “We
haven’t actually fixed a date.”
He spoke abruptly, his voice hard. “When I get
married I shall do so with all possible speed. No long
engagement for me. I want to be certain of my girl.”
Was he thinking of his French girl-friend, the model?
“Do you hope to marry soon?” she asked.
He hesitated for several minutes before replying. “It
is in my mind,” he said slowly, at last. “But there are ...
problems.”
“Your girl-friend isn’t ready for marriage yet?” she
suggested. So he was thinking of the French girl. Kate
wondered what she looked like. Very beautiful, suavely
dressed and sophisticated, she decided. With hard eyes.
He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully.
