her a knowing look.
“You have a wife. I need not remind you that you are still legally married to my daughter.”
“Yes. It’s about time I did something about that. April never intends coming back from China, I’m beginning to realize.”
That was another scandal the newspapers had a field day with. “The Continuing Nightsong Chronicles,” the gossip columns headlined when April abandoned her husband and children and ran off to China with David MacNair. What additional fun the gossips would have had if they knew that the young son April had abandoned, Marcus, was really Lydia’s child and that Peter MacNair was the father. Even Peter didn’t know, and Raymond was never told the name of the child’s father when Lydia bore him in Paris and gave him up to April and Raymond.
“I don’t agree with you,” Lydia said. “Why did April send me that cablegram saying she was coming home?”
“That was ages ago. Knowing my dear wife,” he said with a touch of sarcasm, “she took up with another young buck, or maybe that prince who fathered her married her off to a royal relative.”
It was all possible, of course. Lydia had to remind herself how headstrong and independent April had always been. She had never lived by the rules, but Lydia blamed herself for all of April’s faults and fantasies. She’d done everything for April, much of it shameful to recall.
“I am sure a good lawyer would arrange to dissolve my marriage to April,” Raymond said. “What was the name of the legal firm that got you legally unbound from that Oriental prince of yours?”
She told him. “And I’ll remind you how long it took for that matter to be settled without publicity.”
“Then I’d better start proceedings tomorrow.” He smiled into her eyes. “Then I may just propose to you.”
“Really, Raymond. Don’t you think we have been smeared enough by the scandalmongers?” His tone had been flippant, but she knew he was being serious. Too often he’d pressured her to go to bed with him and, traitorous as it was to admit, he was the only man other than Peter MacNair who aroused her sexually.
“Who cares about scandalmongers? I should have married you in the first place. April and I were all wrong for each other.”
True as it was, though, Raymond found he could never close his eyes without being reminded of April’s beauty. But having married a half-Oriental girl, he soon learned how bigoted Americans were. He found himself snubbed by society. The Chinese were the subject only of abuse and scorn in San Francisco. Being a native from Paris, he hadn’t known that until it was too late. Everyone came to the wedding because of Lydia’s financial bribes.
Secretly, he hated America. Having been born and raised in France he’d never learned what the word prejudice meant because he’d only known Frenchmen. One day he’d return...go back where he belonged, where people were light and gay and had fun. Here all they did was work and build things. With a sigh he told himself that it wouldn’t be long now before he would be in a position to move the main operation of Empress Cosmetics to its Paris branch. If April came back, he’d take her there to live, if she didn’t, he’d take Lydia.
Raymond said, “You would marry me, wouldn’t you, Lydia? I mean, when I’m free of April, of course.”
Lydia glanced toward the door and her heart gave a little tug when she saw Peter MacNair standing there. “I’d have to think on it, Raymond,” she said, not really having heard exactly what he’d said. Peter MacNair always made the world stop for her.
Raymond grabbed her arm. “You will never marry Peter MacNair, if that is what you’re plotting. He’d never divorce Lorna, she’d see to that. She isn’t like you, Lydia; the scandal would kill her.”
She wrenched herself free. “I am not planning on marrying anyone at the moment, Raymond,” she said as she turned and started toward Peter. She flashed him a broad smile and held out both hands to him.
“Congratulations, Lydia,” he said, his face lighting up when he saw her coming toward him. He eyed her admiringly. “Both on your ninth anniversary and the fact that you are the most ravishing woman in San Francisco.”
“Only in San Francisco?” Lydia chided.
“The country! The world!”
For Peter, it was no exaggeration.The years hadn’t touched her. She was just as beautiful as she was the first day he met her, almost twenty-five years ago.
She linked her arm in his and started through the clutter of guests, all smiles and nods. “Your wife isn’t coming?” Lydia asked, trying to sound casual and yet be heard by those standing near.
“You knew she wouldn’t,” he answered in a normal voice, not caring who was listening. “She is much too smart to try and embarrass you at your own party with all your friends gathered around you.” He smiled. “I am not supposed to be here either.”
“Why not? Rightfully, half of all I have is yours, Peter, and the other half I have only because you gave me the idea.”
In a quieter voice he said, “I will never file claim to anything of yours, except you yourself, Lydia.” She didn’t believe him. As much as she loved him, she knew him too well to ever believe him. She had been hurt too much by trusting him. Still, his flattery continued to please her, though she looked up at him disapprovingly.
“Does it still anger you when I speak of how much I love you?” he asked.
“No,” she said meekly. Her heart was pounding in spite of what she was telling it to do.
“Then you don’t hate me anymore?”
“I don’t hate you, Peter.” She never thought she would hear herself say those words. The old scars had practically disappeared and the years had gradually made her see that Peter’s betraying her into the hands of that Manchu prince Ke Loo had been his way of saving her life. Still, though she didn’t hate him, she didn’t trust him either.
She felt the pressure of his hand on her arm. The touch of him disconcerted her as it had always done. She spoke what she was thinking. “I don’t trust you anymore than I ever did, Peter,” she reminded him as she moved slightly away.
He laughed, which didn’t surprise her.
“And if you say you will never file claim to the fifty percent of Empress Cosmetics, why don’t you give me those documents, or at least sell them to me.”
“Maybe I will.”
“You won’t. I know you too well, Peter MacNair. You were always a man who kept an ace in the hole.”
They were interrupted by a guest who wanted to congratulate her and offer her some business. When they were alone again Lydia said, “I never did understand why you didn’t come to me for help when your company was ruined by that lawsuit.”
“Come to you? A woman?” Peter laughed again. “You really don’t know me after all.”
“How is your new company progressing?” What she really wanted to ask was where he’d gotten the money that was financing the new MacNair Products, Incorporated.
“Very
