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"I went to high school in Manhattan," he said with a smile meant to put Eva at ease, "and not a trendy part, either. "I'm afraid we didn't play any football games at Miss Cooper's."
She smiled. "No, I suppose not. Well, Miss Cooper's was—is—a fine school. Very Old World, if you know what I mean. There were curfews, you had to study so many hours an evening, you were restricted to your room after nine. The girls were expected to live by certain standards."
Rules, Conor thought, not standards. But he'd grown up under rules himself and he'd have bet his last dollar that the rules laid down by Detective-Sergeant John O'Neil, NYPD, had been a hell of a lot tougher than the ones at a high-priced girls' school.
Eva seemed to be waiting for him to say something so he smiled a little, nodded his head, and made a non-committal sound.
"Miranda didn't care for the place," she said.
"Too strict?" he asked politely.
"So she claimed." Eva's mouth thinned. "But I was at my wits' end. She'd already been expelled from other schools for various infractions."
Drugs? Booze? Boys? He waited, saying nothing.
"Broken curfews. A disrespectful attitude. Marijuana. And finally, some unpleasantness about a boy in her room when the rules clearly said—"
"So you sent her to Miss Cooper's as punishment?"
"I sent her there so she could learn to curb her excesses." Eva shot to her feet, marched to the bar and refilled her drink. "And a lot of good it did me."
"But did it do your daughter any good?" Conor heard himself ask. He frowned as Eva spun towards him. "I mean, did she change?"
Eva smiled bitterly. "Indeed she did, Mr. O'Neil. She gave up the small stuff and went for the brass ring. A month after she turned seventeen, she seduced her roommate's cousin, the Count Edouard de Lasserre. He was thirty-two years old, a sophisticated man of the world, but he was no match for Miranda. She ran off with him to Paris."
Conor rose to his feet as Eva walked past him and flung open the door. He put down his untouched drink and followed her into the foyer, to the portrait on the wall.
The painting couldn't have changed. It had to be his perception of it that had undergone a subtle shift. Yes, Miranda was smiling but he was certain now that her smile was tinged with sadness.
"She was sixteen when that painting was done," Eva said, her voice trembling with righteous indignation. "Spoiled, self-centered... just look at her face and you can see what she was like."
Conor looked. Was Eva right? Was that sadness he saw in the curve of Miranda's lips, or was it smug satisfaction?
"Of course," Eva said, "I flew to Paris the moment I found out what had happened but I was too late. Miranda had talked Edouard de Lasserre into marrying her. Well, of course, I knew she was far too young to marry anyone, let alone a man so many years her senior. I agonized over how I'd get her out of his clutches." Eva smiled tightly. "I needn't have worried. By the time I caught up to them, de Lasserre had come to his senses. He was more than eager to grant Miranda a divorce. For the right price, naturally."
"How much did it cost you?"
Eva's breathing grew ragged. "Everything," she whispered.
He turned and looked at her. Her eyes were wet with tears; her face was pale.
"His price was exorbitant, hundreds of thousands of dollars, but what mother would do less for her child?" Eva clasped her hands to her bosom. "And do you think Miranda thanked me? No, she did not! She turned on me in a rage, furious that I'd interfered."
Conor looked at the portrait again. "Did she love him that much?"
"Love him? Miranda?" Eva gave a brittle laugh. "She never cared for anyone but herself. She hadn't seduced the man or married him for love. She just wanted to be free of me and my attempts to turn her into a responsible young woman. That was why she'd run off with him, because she knew she could twist him around her finger and live a life she preferred."
A wild life, Conor thought, a life on the edge, and for reasons he didn't pretend to understand or want to dwell on, his gut twisted. But when he spoke, his voice gave nothing away.
"It must have been a difficult time for you," he said.
Eva laughed bitterly. "It was hell."
"So, your daughter convinced Edouard de Lasserre to change his mind?"
"To keep her and give up half a million dollars, you mean? Not a chance. The Count was pleased with our arrangement. But Miranda—Miranda told me she never wanted to see me again."
"I don't understand. I thought you said she was a minor."
