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“You are too good to me, Pierre,” I murmured and he inclined his head.
“Just let me know if I can do anything else, Martin will take care of you from here.” The last was as much a command toMartinas it was a promise to me. Sparkling water and wine were the first round of choices for the evening. While the fizz and the chill were quite welcome, the dryness was not. Grandfather preferred his fruit on a plate, not his vintage.
Normally, I didn’t care but tonight I wasn’t quite feeling the mood. Rather than pulling out my phone and perusing it, I let my gaze wander over the other guests. The lounge offered comfort, as well as a modicum of privacy. Well, dinner at Céleste was a formal affair. The lounge allowed a more casual atmosphere.
Even amongst the most astringent of businessmen, alcohol had a tendency to loosen the more stiff and unyielding demeanors by providing an access route past years of social training. It would be a mistake, however, to think everyone in the room presented exactly as they were. Society's rules are not so forgiving. One of grandfather's earliest lessons, do not present that which you do not want to be seen.
We made a point of testing what we knew about people by observing them in public. Some people were exactly who they seemed to be, I wanted the businessman out for a meal with his mistress. His wife could even be dining in the same restaurant, although that would show an incredible lack of manners. But his mistress was as well-known to those in our circles as his wife was. How they lived their lives, it's none of my business—except when it was.
My mother had once played a similar role to perfection. She had been the mistress for many years and, now,shewas the wife. While I had never actually looked to see if Harper Reed had taken a new mistress, I could say that the idea would surprise me. Of course, now that the thought occurred to me, I found myself turning it over and over, examining it from all the angles. He probably had a mistress-in-waiting before their wedding announcements had been sent out, because Melissa Benedict, now Melissa Reed, would no longer fill that filthy angle for him.
I really didn't wanna think about that, and thankfully, Martin brought over some raspberry decorated cheese tarts and a plate of salmon canapés.
“Pierre wished me to inform you that Mr. Benedict is on his way and is expected within thirty minutes. Would you like me to move you to your table now? Or continue to await Mr. Benedict?”
“I’ll wait,” I said easily, before I unrolled the linen napkin—he’d brought a dark set so they would match my dress—and set it in my lap. “Would you thank the chef for me? The raspberries look amazing.”
“Of course,” Martin agreed and then he left me to my wine and observation. At the thirty minute mark exactly, I rose as my grandfather crossed the room. More than one person nodded to him but he allowed for no delays. A hint of silver in his hair added dignity to the reddish-brown. It had begun to thin in the last couple of years, though unlike other men his age—his hair wasn’t receding.
“Darling girl,” he said, his tone dipping into warmth that he reserved for the rare individual. Me. Em—on the occasions he had met her. Tally,sometimes. He preferred Em to Tally, though he’d never been so gauche as to comment directly. Of course, my grandmother. His hands engulfed mine as he pressed a warm kiss to each of my cheeks and I returned the favor. “My apologies for being so tardy.”
“Well, I’m sure they had their reasons.”
The frost kissing his eyes said those reasons were hardly acceptable. Still, I kept my smile in place. I was equally sure whatever their reasons had been, if he didn’t care for them it would beLe Strärkewho paid the cost, not me.
“But you’re here now,” I said, sliding my arm through his and ignoring the remnants on the table. There would be a proper meal with new wine at our table. “I’m so excited to see you.”
“Are you?” Indulgence crept into his voice.
“Of course,” I said. “You have now kept me waiting, which means I get to choose dessert.”
He chuckled, the rumble dislodging some of the darker shadows in his eyes. “You make an excellent point, darling girl. Excellent.” With my hand on the crook of his arm, he turned us to face Pierre as the maître d' hurried to welcome him. “Pierre, I’ve kept my enchanting granddaughter waiting far too long. Tell me our table is ready?”
“Absolument.” Pierre gestured for us to follow him. “If you will come with me. I’ve taken the time to prepare a Chateau Mouton Rothschild. I think you will find it pairs perfectly with the chef’s selection of duck and lamb for your evening meal…”
My mouth was watering before he settled us at our table tucked into one of the alcoves overlooking the restaurant. It put us on display but also beyond reach. It meant we were free to chat and no one could justdrop byto join us.
The staff was more than ready for us. The wine was open and breathing. Grandfather took care to pull out my chair and seat me before he took his own seat and he let Pierre fuss before the chef came out to introduce the first course of our meal.
Grandfather listened with the same intensity he displayed in meetings and during stockholder calls. Like him, I focused on the chef’s body language and inflections. There were parts of the menu he was very confident in, but in two areas—he worried. Whether it was the dish itself or our tardiness in the beginning, I wasn’t entirely certain.
The quirk to Grandfather’s lips said he’d noticed something similar. But once the first course was served, the staff withdrew to leave us to our meal. The first course of canapés were different from my aperitifs in the lounge and Grandfather only tasted one or two before he took a sip of the first course wine. The Bordeaux would wait for the main course.
It wasn’t until the soup course, that grandfather nodded to the room below. “Mr. Aberforth is here this evening.”
“Do you plan to take his shirt in cards this week or should I give you an excuse to take me home?”
Grandfather’s soft snort made me smile. “I could use a little vicious card play, so if you have no objections…”
I swirled the wine and kept my smile restrained, though amusement fountained within me. “I’ll let you know after dessert.”
His approving nod was a reward of its own. “Never agree to a deal when you can make a better one.”
“You know, I’ve heard that before.”
“I seem to recall,” he said, keeping it light. After the soup, came the fish. The sole was particularly flaky and well-cooked. “Tell me about the auction.”
So I briefed him on the event, and his expression barely flickered as I listed the details of the other art pieces as well as those in attendance.
