you. How exciting. I do love birthdays.’
Victor smiled, turned to greet Francesca. Bracing one hand on the arm of the sofa and the other on its back, he leaned over her, his eyes intent. After a long look, he pressed his mouth to her cheek and gave her a lingering kiss, but as he drew away he winked. He straightened up, glanced down at her and then across at Diana.
‘I must compliment you, ladies. You both look mighty fetchin’, mighty fetchin’ indeed, I do declare. Why, you fair take a man’s breath away with your not inconsiderable charms,’ he said, executing a bull’s eye imitation of Clark Gable as Rhett Butler, and bowing to them with an elaborate old-fashioned gallantry.
‘Victor, what a splendid mimic you are,’ Christian exclaimed.
Victor grinned, and in an instant he was across the room, shaking his host’s hand. ‘Evening, Christian. Just one of the tools of the trade, I reckon.’
‘What would you like to drink, old chap? Champagne?’
‘I’d prefer Scotch-on-the-rocks with a splash of water. Thanks.’
Diana said, ‘The presents are divine … all these fantastic Sinatras, and Arpège as well. Thank you both so much.’ She beamed, her eyes swivelling from Francesca to Victor.
‘And this is from … us,’ Francesca said, finding her voice and rising. She gave the gift to Diana and hugged her warmly.
‘You’re both far too generous.’ Diana unwrapped the figurine, her eyes lighting up when she saw it. ‘Oh Cheska, Victor, it’s charming. Thank you again.’ She shook her head, laughing. ‘Everyone is spoiling me today.’ She held out her arm, displaying her garnet ring and a matching bracelet. ‘Christian gave these to me this afternoon.’
‘They’re beautiful.’ Francesca squeezed her shoulders, and went on, ‘And you deserve to be spoiled. I know this is going to be a very special and wonderful year for you, Dibs darling.’
They had just finished toasting Diana when Manfred appeared. He told them the cars were arriving at the gatehouse and that some of the guests were already halfway down the path.
‘Excuse me,’ Diana said, getting up. ‘I must go and greet them. Coming, Christian?’
‘Naturally.’ He promptly put down his drink and followed her to the entrance of the sitting room.
Francesca murmured, ‘I’ll tidy up,’ and began collecting the crumpled wrapping paper. Throwing it into the fire, she then placed the gifts on a side table.
As she passed in front of him, Victor caught her arm, grasping it firmly and pulling her to him. He leaned into her, and said, ‘You ought to be arrested for looking the way you do. You’ll be the cause of my undoing yet.’
The glances she threw him was reproving but her eyes were flirtatious and teasing. ‘Hadn’t you better be careful, Mr Mason. Someone might get the wrong impression, if they see you grabbing me so … so possessively. I’m supposed to be your chum, not your inamorata. Remember?’
‘Touché. And I’ll deal with you later, madame. In the meantime, stand here and give me the dope on everyone.’
‘Do you know, you can be quite bossy at times,’ Francesca said, but, nevertheless, she picked up her glass and joined him in front of the fire. ‘I’ll do my best, but I don’t know all the people who’ve been invited. Ah, that’s Astrid hugging Diana now. Princess Astrid von Böler.’ She drew closer, dropped her voice and added, with a small laugh, ‘A great love of Kim’s, until her husband broke up their affaire.’
Victor’s brows lifted. ‘No kidding! Your brother has good taste. Who’s that with her? The husband?’
‘No. Some Polish count with an unpronounceable name. Her latest … friend, I believe.’
‘And the other people?’
‘Graf and Gräfin Durmann. He’s something to do with banking, I think.’
‘What’s Graf? A title?’
‘Yes, it means count. Anyway, I’ve met them before, and they’re awfully nice. His first name’s Heinrich, and hers is Tatiana.’
Within the next few minutes all the guests streamed in, eight couples in all. Francesca endeavoured to acquaint Victor with a few salient details about those she knew, but too quickly they were surrounded by people. Somehow Victor was separated from her. She was stranded near the fireplace with Astrid and the Polish count, along with two other men she had not previously met. They closed in on her, apparently much taken. Yet she was conscious of Victor all the time.
Effortlessly, he was the focus of attention in the room, had taken the centre of the stage and was holding it. Francesca knew this was not only by virtue of his fame, but also because of his startling looks, his physique and bearing, his commanding manner and his natural charm. Since he was six feet three and towered above everyone else, it was easy for Francesca to keep him in her line of vision. Also, every so often, he would seek her out with his eyes, signalling a private message with a particular look, a smile, occasionally a quick, knowing wink.
But as the cocktail hour continued, with Clara, and another maid hired for the evening, serving the drinks and canapés, Francesca abandoned any thought of joining him. Most of the women had formed a phalanx around him, and were vying for his attention. And very adroitly, and somewhat maddeningly, he appeared to be flirting with each and every one of them. Francesca experienced a spurt of jealousy, but doused it, and retaliated in kind in her own quiet way. Günther Rundt, an acquaintance of Kim’s, had beaten a swift path to her side. He was being flattering and attentive, lavishly so in fact, and she responded with smiles, a few coquettish glances, and summoned an enthralled expression to her face, hanging onto his every word. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Victor staring at her at one moment, and she stifled a laugh. He looked really miffed. She was delighted.
Eventually Manfred announced that dinner was served and the group slowly drifted towards the dining room. Victor caught up with Francesca and said in a low voice, ‘Who’s that guy?’
‘Which guy do you mean?’ she asked innocently, adopting a nonplussed air.
‘You know. The one who was practically grinding you into the wall.’
She laughed lightly. ‘Oh, that’s a friend of Kim’s … I assume you do mean Günther. He’s very sweet.’
‘If that’s what you call sweet, then I’m angelic,’ he countered, falling in step. She did not answer, and as they went into the room, he added, ‘I hope we’re sitting together, baby.’
‘I doubt it. I’m sure you’ll be sitting at Diana’s right, I at Christian’s right. I expect dinner’ll be quite formal tonight.’
‘Then I’ll have to be satisfied with thoughts of what’s yet to come … later, when we’re alone,’ he murmured through the side of his mouth. Surreptitiously he ran his fingers down her back before striding ahead to join Diana, who was beckoning him.
The grace and beauty of the Schloss, elements which had struck Victor so forcefully when he had arrived yesterday, were in great evidence tonight. The ambience in the dining room was decidedly romantic, had an almost fairytale quality. This was created in no small measure by the incredible number
