kitchen, and lightly stepping in the hall, she managed to
escape detection. With the long length of stairs ahead of her, she
prepared to leap up them quickly when Ricky appeared in the hall,
whistling tunelessly. He caught sight of her, and strolled her way.
'Hiyah,' he said.
'Ssh! I don't want Mother to know I'm here until I've had a chance to
clean up,' she whispered, and then she stared at him, for he was
wearing a peculiar smile. 'Who is it? The only family I could think of
who owns that colour Jaguar is the Langstons—is it Mr and Mrs
Langston, or both?'
'Oh, Mr Langston,' said Ricky cheerfully. 'Come on, move it or lose
it. I'm headed upstairs, myself.'
She still didn't get it, even after his odd smile and that rather devilish
twinkle at the back of his eyes. She was too preoccupied with
wondering why Jeffrey's father had come, and could make no sense
of it. Not even once did she guess the truth, as she quickly showered
and slipped on a pale mauve dress which had tiny thin silver stripes
running vertically and slimmed her figure even more. Silver sleek
pumps, and three thin silver necklaces completed the outfit and, after
touching up her make-up and brushing her hair, she. slipped back
downstairs.
Only as she strode easily for the den did her own stupidity crash in
on her, making her face quiver with the shock of it, making her steps
falter and then stop as she heard the unmistakable nuances of Pierce
replying to her mother's light chatter. Later, the only reason that she
could think why she had simply not considered him as a possibility,
however remote she might have thought it to be, was because he
never commuted to Virginia to visit the family. It was one of the
principle reasons why she'd never met him before that last weekend.
Recovering sluggishly, she slowly approached the small, private
room the family invariably met in before supper, and rounded the
corner.
He sat on the couch, dressed as usual with casual elegance in black
slacks and blazer, with pale blue sweater underneath. His dark head
had been turned attentively to Irene, whose eyes were avidly eating
him up as she talked. They both looked up at her entrance, Pierce's
expression unreadable as he gave her a meaningless, flashing white
smile, her mother's expression full of enjoyment.
'Good heavens, Pierce, whatever are you doing here?' Caprice asked
composedly, her churning emotions calling that composure a lie. She
let her lips pull into a slight, cool, answering smile before she turned
to her mother. 'Hallo. Is Dad home yet?'
'No, dear,' replied Irene, rather impatient with the small talk. 'Pierce
stopped by to see you and, as you were out, I invited him to stay for
supper. Where did you go?'
She broke out of that immobility that had held her fixed to one spot
in the room, making smoothly for the bar. 'I went for a drive. Tell
me, Pierce, isn't it rather unusual for you to come south for the
weekend?'
'Yes,' he replied, speaking for the first time. His voice shivered into
her, and she nearly dropped her glass. 'Usually I go to the lodge when
I wish to get out of New York. It's much more quiet.'
Caprice splashed gin into her glass carelessly, and then tonic. She
forgot to add her favourite twist of lime or to stir it, so when she
sipped at it some moments later, the drink tasted terrible. She then
turned, and casually leaned back against the counter, gently swirling
her glass.
Irene said gaily, 'He's been telling me all about his work in the family
business! It's so fascinating.' Her dark violet eyes widened at that,
almost imperceptibly. Her mother was never fascinated by business
in her life.
A quickly shot glance to Pierce, who was quite relaxed with one arm
along the arm of the couch, showed that he held a faint, but
unmistakable, gleam of amusement in his eyes. Then he was looking
at her, hard and flashing bright, and their eyes met with an almost
audible clash. She wiped hers free of
escape detection. With the long length of stairs ahead of her, she
prepared to leap up them quickly when Ricky appeared in the hall,
whistling tunelessly. He caught sight of her, and strolled her way.
'Hiyah,' he said.
'Ssh! I don't want Mother to know I'm here until I've had a chance to
clean up,' she whispered, and then she stared at him, for he was
wearing a peculiar smile. 'Who is it? The only family I could think of
who owns that colour Jaguar is the Langstons—is it Mr and Mrs
Langston, or both?'
'Oh, Mr Langston,' said Ricky cheerfully. 'Come on, move it or lose
it. I'm headed upstairs, myself.'
She still didn't get it, even after his odd smile and that rather devilish
twinkle at the back of his eyes. She was too preoccupied with
wondering why Jeffrey's father had come, and could make no sense
of it. Not even once did she guess the truth, as she quickly showered
and slipped on a pale mauve dress which had tiny thin silver stripes
running vertically and slimmed her figure even more. Silver sleek
pumps, and three thin silver necklaces completed the outfit and, after
touching up her make-up and brushing her hair, she. slipped back
downstairs.
Only as she strode easily for the den did her own stupidity crash in
on her, making her face quiver with the shock of it, making her steps
falter and then stop as she heard the unmistakable nuances of Pierce
replying to her mother's light chatter. Later, the only reason that she
could think why she had simply not considered him as a possibility,
however remote she might have thought it to be, was because he
never commuted to Virginia to visit the family. It was one of the
principle reasons why she'd never met him before that last weekend.
Recovering sluggishly, she slowly approached the small, private
room the family invariably met in before supper, and rounded the
corner.
He sat on the couch, dressed as usual with casual elegance in black
slacks and blazer, with pale blue sweater underneath. His dark head
had been turned attentively to Irene, whose eyes were avidly eating
him up as she talked. They both looked up at her entrance, Pierce's
expression unreadable as he gave her a meaningless, flashing white
smile, her mother's expression full of enjoyment.
'Good heavens, Pierce, whatever are you doing here?' Caprice asked
composedly, her churning emotions calling that composure a lie. She
let her lips pull into a slight, cool, answering smile before she turned
to her mother. 'Hallo. Is Dad home yet?'
'No, dear,' replied Irene, rather impatient with the small talk. 'Pierce
stopped by to see you and, as you were out, I invited him to stay for
supper. Where did you go?'
She broke out of that immobility that had held her fixed to one spot
in the room, making smoothly for the bar. 'I went for a drive. Tell
me, Pierce, isn't it rather unusual for you to come south for the
weekend?'
'Yes,' he replied, speaking for the first time. His voice shivered into
her, and she nearly dropped her glass. 'Usually I go to the lodge when
I wish to get out of New York. It's much more quiet.'
Caprice splashed gin into her glass carelessly, and then tonic. She
forgot to add her favourite twist of lime or to stir it, so when she
sipped at it some moments later, the drink tasted terrible. She then
turned, and casually leaned back against the counter, gently swirling
her glass.
Irene said gaily, 'He's been telling me all about his work in the family
business! It's so fascinating.' Her dark violet eyes widened at that,
almost imperceptibly. Her mother was never fascinated by business
in her life.
A quickly shot glance to Pierce, who was quite relaxed with one arm
along the arm of the couch, showed that he held a faint, but
unmistakable, gleam of amusement in his eyes. Then he was looking
at her, hard and flashing bright, and their eyes met with an almost
audible clash. She wiped hers free of
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