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TWINKLING CHANDELIERS lit the ballroom with a golden glow, and as Rosemary and Vera entered, a waiter dressed just as formally as the butler offered flutes of champagne. In one corner, a live band played a jaunty tune that invited one to tap a foot to the beat.
Rosemary felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Grace Barton looking significantly more composed than she had two days before, though there was a tightness around her eyes to attest she still had a lot on her mind
“Hello, Grace, what a lovely party. I hope you don’t mind that I brought Vera Blackburn along.”
“Of course I don’t, Mrs. Lillywhite,” she said. “The more, the merrier.”
“Grace, please, I think we’re past the point of formality considering we have a history,” Rosemary said and left it at that. Andrew’s words echoed in her head, Never offer up more information than you must. Insinuate and then wait. Let them come to you. He’d been speaking of a suspect, and Grace was hardly that. Still, the same rules applied.
The woman blushed and looked between Vera and Rosemary as though embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to mislead you. In fact, I didn’t realize who you were until after I’d left your flat. I hope you understand.” Grace looked shyly in Vera’s direction, and Rosemary recognized her expression.
She’d seen it on the children with whom she’d attended school, on the men who watched Vera’s performances with bated breath, and on the few women who had enough self-confidence not to be intimidated by her brilliance.
The rest, convinced she was a snake in the grass just waiting to pick off their beaus, tended to regard Vera with jealousy-laced malice. If Rosemary wasn’t mistaken, Grace idolized Vera and would have liked to be her friend.
“It’s perfectly okay. I didn’t recognize you, either. I hope you didn’t take offense,” Rosemary replied.
Grace shook her head. “No, none at all. I know how difficult our school years were for you, and it’s not as though we were terribly close.”
Bits and pieces of memory swam up from the depths of Rosemary’s subconscious, and with the puzzle falling into place, she finally pulled the image of a younger Grace to the surface.
Quiet and shy, Grace had been a girl who had always followed the rules and therefore had few friends. Of course, that was years ago. In all likelihood, she had changed since then. Most people did.
Once the appropriate pleasantries had been exchanged, Grace, taking a surreptitious look around as she did, led Rosemary and Vera out of the ballroom and into the hallway where they could talk privately.
“The way I see it, whoever wrote that note is probably here tonight. Father has invited a whole host of his business associates and several close friends. It’s a place to start, anyway. Later, we’ll sneak away and look at the letter.”
“Perfect,” Rosemary replied. “For now, I’d like to observe everyone present as well as your father, so I think it would be best if we mingled. Keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary, or anyone—besides us—who wasn’t on the guest list.”
Over Grace’s shoulder, Rosemary spotted her mother and father engaging in a lively conversation with the guests of honor. "Introduce us around a little, and then we can split up."
“All right, but let’s meet back here once Father has given his toast. They’ll dance, and then we can slip out,” Grace suggested as she parted the crowd and approached the group.
“Cecil, you old dog,” Mr. Barton boomed. “You know how much business gets done on the golf course. Why can’t I convince you to join the club? I play with Arthur and Ernest every Wednesday, and it’s been well worth the monthly fee.”
Mrs. Barton placed a hand on Evelyn’s arm. “By all means, send Cecil off to chase the little white ball. Take the free time to go to the spa. I recommend the muscle-lifting treatment. As you can see, it took five years off my face. You must try one, I insist.”
The words alone could have been taken as a friendly suggestion, but something in the tone of Mrs. Barton’s voice turned them into an underhanded insult. Come to think of it, the way Mr. Barton had spoken to her father was enough to make Rosemary take an immediate dislike to the man.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been put in a position where a client’s personality rubbed her up the wrong way, and so she shoved her opinions away and vowed to approach this case with an open mind. Just because the Bartons were utter snobs didn’t mean Mr. Barton deserved to be murdered.
“Grace, please fetch me another glass of champagne,” Mrs. Barton ordered her daughter, the words dripping like honey but with a sharp edge that caused Rosemary’s eyes to narrow. Grace’s face turned a discomfited shade of red, but she said nothing and scurried off to do her mother’s bidding.
“I’ll have my girl pencil you in for this week, Cecil. I insist.” Mr. Barton was still carrying on about golf, much to the displeasure of her father.
Mr. Woolridge merely smiled, and Rosemary guessed it wasn’t the first time he had been forced to deal with the likes of men such as Mr. Barton. “Not my cup of tea, Edgar. Not my cup of tea at all. Oh, hello, Rosemary. You look...” He faltered.
“You look lovely, dear.” Evelyn cut in. The twinkle in her eye let Rosemary know she’d made a misstep. Wearing Vera’s fashionable dress had only served as ammunition for her mother’s theory she’d come here to nab herself a man. “Eva, Edgar, this is our daughter, Rosemary. I believe she’s friends with Grace.”
“Hello, hello.” Edgar Barton nodded, his eyes sliding just south of Rosemary’s neckline. She fought back the urge to say something saucy and instead allowed him to kiss her hand even though the feel of his lips on her skin made her stomach churn.
“And this is Rosemary’s friend, Vera Blackburn,” Evelyn continued as if she hadn’t noticed Rosemary’s discomfort. Whether or not her mother intended it, introducing Vera took the attention off Rosemary completely, which was just fine with her. Vera was used to older men fawning over her and took Mr. Barton’s admiration in her stride.
The same couldn’t be said for his wife, who eyed Vera with venom in her eyes. It looked as though her husband was about to make another unwelcome comment when a handsome man approached the group, his eyes fastened on Rosemary in a far less obnoxious manner than Mr. Barton’s had done.
“Theodore, where have you been all evening?” Mrs. Barton asked while Rosemary tried to dislodge Vera’s elbow from her ribs. Never one to employ subtlety, Vera’s gaze flicked from Rosemary to the man named Theodore with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. “You know Mr. and Mrs. Woolridge, and this is their daughter Rosemary and her friend, Vera Blackburn,” Mrs. Barton continued.
Theodore smiled an enigmatic smile and took Rosemary’s hand while nodding to Vera, “It’s a pleasure, Miss Woolridge.”
“Actually, it’s Mrs. Lillywhite,” Rosemary said automatically, and then blushed.
Her mother, unable to allow such a specimen of a man to believe Rosemary unavailable, quickly jumped in to explain, “Our poor Rosemary is a widow.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Theodore said, his eyes filled with sincerity, “and please, call me Teddy. Can I interest the two of you in accompanying me to the bar?”
Vera practically pushed Rosemary toward him, and they bade goodbye to the group as Theodore led them away with Rosemary’s hand in his. He let go before the moment turned awkward, but that didn’t help Rosemary’s color return to normal.
“What’s your poison? Actually, let me guess. It’s a special talent of mine.” Theodore gazed between Rosemary and Vera, rubbed his chin for a moment and then pointed towards Rosemary, “A classic G&T for you, possibly with a twist, and for your friend, I’m going with a Negroni. Was I close?”
Rosemary battled the urge to lie and say he was wrong, but a giggle she hadn’t been expecting escaped her lips. “Yes, you’re spot on. I will take that twist.”
“Make mine a Boulevardier please,” said Vera, “but I’ll give you credit, that’s a handy talent, especially at parties.”
Teddy grinned, and Rosemary believed she could imagine exactly what he must have looked like as a child. “Here you go,” he said, handing over the drinks. Rosemary took a sip and then held on to her glass. The last thing she needed was to get sloshed and miss out on a vital clue. Teddy Barton was distraction enough.
It looked as though he might have been preparing to ask her to dance when a velvety voice cut through the band’s music. “Well, hello, Theodore,” the voice purred. Rosemary whipped her head around to see who was speaking and her gaze landed on a spectacularly attractive woman wearing a dress that barely skimmed her thighs. Never one to enjoy being upstaged, Vera let out a huffing sound.
“Marjorie,” Theodore answered in a dry tone that nearly elicited another giggle from Rosemary. If she wasn’t mistaken, he didn’t find the woman nearly as enchanting as Marjorie wished he did. “Meet Rosemary Lillywhite and Vera Blackburn. Ladies, Marjorie Ainsworth.”
“Charmed, I’m sure.” Marjorie flashed a faux smile toward Rosemary and Vera, turned her back to them, and spoke directly to Theodore as if they’d ceased to exist. “Come and dance with me, Teddy. Please?” Her long black lashes fluttered seductively, and her deep-blue eyes sparkled from beneath a blond fringe of finger curls that shone in the twinkling lights of the chandelier above.
She ran one manicured hand up Theodore’s arm, pressing herself against him as much as she could and leaning in to give him an unobstructed view of her considerable assets. His chiseled jaw clenched with irritation, and his dark eyes turned stormy beneath a prominent brow. The expression ought to have made him appear formidable, but it only accentuated his good looks.
“I’m sorry, Marjorie, but I’ve just been told I’m needed elsewhere. I’ll see you later. You too, ladies,” Teddy said, shooting Rosemary an apologetic look and then nearly running off in the opposite direction. Vera was shaking with barely concealed laughter, and once again Rosemary resisted the urge to say something her mother would consider unladylike.
Marjorie stared after Teddy as though thoroughly baffled by his sudden departure, which only made the situation all the funnier.
As soon as Theodore had disappeared, a gainly, dark-haired gentleman approached Marjorie. He was attractive, or at least he believed he was. Yet there was something about his appearance that just seemed smarmy. Rosemary was sure he had been watching for Teddy’s departure and had waited to approach the woman once she was alone.
“Hello there, Marjie. I saved you a dance. What do you say?” He held out a hand as if expecting her to fall into his arms.
Rosemary and Vera watched incredulously, thoroughly enjoying the show, as Marjorie snapped, “Go chase yourself, Herbie. You’re such a sinker. Besides, shouldn’t you be dancing with Grace? Remember Grace?” She stalked away, her nose in the air, and Herbie’s face turned the color of roasted beetroot before he moved off in the other direction.
“I think I’ll finish this now,” Rosemary said, slugging back the rest of her G&T once they’d finished convulsing over Marjorie Ainsworth’s bad fortune.
