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WHEN ROSEMARY AND VERA approached the outdoor bar later that evening, they found it packed to the gills. It seemed everyone needed a reprieve from the sadness of the day. Taking a page from Vivi Chevalier’s book, Gloria preened in front of the men, leaning in to talk to Desmond as though they were the best of friends.
“That woman has positively no scruples,” Vera spat as they approached, echoing Anna’s earlier statement regarding Benjamin Marlowe. “Not that anyone around here seems to have any. She’s despicable, that’s what she is.”
“Oh, Vera, calm down. First of all, don’t act as though you’ve never been forward with a man before, because I’ve witnessed many a scene just like this, involving some besotted fellow who was another woman’s beau. Second of all,” Rosemary continued, holding up her index finger to shush her friend, “if Desmond is stupid enough to fall for her charms, I don’t want him anyway. Thirdly, I don’t know if I want him at all.”
Vera shot her a cold look. “It’s not my fault if a man isn’t happy with his woman. I’ve simply given a few of them a better option, but I’ve never turned my eye on a man who was engaged, and you know it. Moreover, Rosie dear, it doesn’t matter if you want Des or not. We need to keep our little group close, especially considering how often we land in mortal peril!”
“You’re being quite dramatic, Vera dear. Are you finding yourself missing the heat of the stage lights already?” Rosemary quipped, but her smile belied any malice behind her words. For the moment, she’d pushed Cecily’s grisly murder from her mind and was attempting to put herself in a better mood. Needling Vera out of a fit of pique fit the bill.
“Perhaps. I’ve been thinking about my next role, and I’ve decided a bit of drama is in order. Modern drama this time, not of the Shakespearean milieu. But we can talk about that on the train ride home. For now, let’s see how much damage we can do.”
This time, her gaze landed on Frederick who, in a rare moment, didn’t have a woman clinging to his arm. Rosemary shook her head and kept her mouth closed. Pushing Vera in any way would result in the opposite outcome from the one she intended, which was somewhat ironic considering how pushy her friend could be when she thought she knew what was best for someone else.
“Do let’s keep our heads about us, shall we?” Rosemary suggested. “Remember how ridiculous Geneviève and Benjamin looked when they had that blowup the other night. I’d rather hold on to a shred of my dignity.”
“Speaking of the devils,” Vera replied, “there they both are, wrapped around one another as though nothing happened.”
Sure enough, the couple in question held court at the bar, Geneviève evidently telling a hilarious story that had her gesticulating wildly while Benjamin grinned from ear to ear.
Rosemary and Vera approached the bar, Vera’s eyes shooting daggers at Gloria, who returned the glare when Desmond turned his back on her to greet them. Neither said a word but held the stare until Gloria finally flushed and turned away. Satisfied, Vera tucked into her drink and tilted her head back to stare up at Frederick.
“What have we here? The great Lothario alone at the bar. Did you go through all of the available women already?”
As always, Frederick gave back as good as he got.
“I haven’t noticed the male population prostrating themselves at your feet lately. What’s the matter? Lose your touch?”
Before she could utter a scathing retort, a woman’s voice interrupted her.
“Bonjour, mes amis.” Geneviève had approached and made a big show of planting air kisses on Rosemary, Desmond, and Vera’s cheeks, but her lips met Frederick’s face and lingered there a touch longer than necessary. It was enough to turn Vera’s sour mood bitter, and the fact that it irked her made her angrier still.
While Vera fumed, Rosemary greeted Geneviève and attempted to pull her attention away from Freddie. “It seems as though you and your fiancé are in a better mood tonight,” she said, the words popping out of her mouth before she had a chance to censor them as she normally would. Rosemary found she cared little and rather enjoyed the look of irritation that crossed Vivi’s face before she laughed and brushed the comment aside.
“Ah, yes, well, who amongst us hasn’t been drawn into a lovers’ quarrel or two?” Geneviève replied.
“Where is Benjamin?” Rosemary asked, looking around and discovering he’d disappeared. A vague thought that too much gin had loosened her lips flitted across her mind. “Off hunting for more maids to torture, is he? Or perhaps another woman to proposition?”
That was enough to make Vera hiccup beside her, Frederick’s face turn beet-red, and Geneviève’s eyes to flash. “You silly English women think you’re so evolved, but you obviously don’t know a thing about relationships. Men are wild creatures who need to retain a semblance of freedom. Some women are the same way.” She batted her eyelashes at Frederick, and the tension ratcheted up another notch.
“We silly English women actually have class,” Vera retorted.
Geneviève smiled smugly now, her dig having struck gold. “Men don’t appreciate class as much as they’d like you to believe they do. They appreciate guts and guile far more. Isn’t that right, Frederick?”
The poor man looked like a gazelle who’d noticed the lioness just a moment too late. “Well, we appreciate a great many things about you ladies,” Frederick stammered, and turned wide, pleading eyes on Rosemary.
“Ah, perhaps I was wrong about you.” Geneviève’s hand, which had been poised to brush a lock of Frederick’s curly blond hair back into place, went limp and dropped to her side. “I suppose you and your actress deserve one another.”
Vera growled. It was a sound Rosemary had heard before, and one that meant she’d hit her limit. Vivi, having no idea what was coming, let a feral smile slip into place right as Vera hauled back a hand and slapped it off her face. Eyes widening with shock above the reddening handprint, Geneviève only missed a single beat before returning the favor, and then it was on.
Vera’s fingers latched like vices in the French woman’s hair, yanking and pulling the perfectly coiffed waves to tangled strands.
A collective intake of breath ran through the crowd, but no one stepped in to stop the fight, which ended fairly quickly anyway when all the bravado deserted Geneviève, and she begged Vera to stop. Panting, sweaty, and close to tears, Vivi stumbled away while Vera crossed her arms and watched. Both women’s eyes shone with moisture, but in Vera’s case, the tears were the result of the sniffles, and not of ire or pain.
From where Rosemary was sitting, the Isle of Love truly did seem more like the Isle of Lust. Or perhaps the Isle of Crazy People, she wasn’t certain which.
She linked arms with Vera and steered her towards the footpath leading back to the hotel. “I’m sorry about that. I should have kept my thoughts to myself. Perhaps I’ve gone round the bend,” she mused. “So much for keeping our dignity.”
Vera laughed. “Rosie dear, that was the most fun I’ve had all week. That woman deserves whatever she gets. She’s a shameless, two-bit gold digger, and someday it’s going to come back around to bite her in the rear.”
“I, for one, applaud you both,” Desmond said jovially. “That was fine entertainment, don’t you think, Freddie?”
Frederick smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He appeared to have a lot on his mind.
“Well,” a voice said out of the darkness, making Rosemary’s arm hair stand on end. She felt a little thrill vibrate through her body. “I have to say I agree with Desmond on that point. You ladies put on quite a show.”
