‘Quite easily, I should think,’ Georgina said with a laugh. ‘Don’t you agree, Nancy?’
‘No. I don’t,’ Nancy said unexpectedly. ‘I agree with Marisa. Only when you are faced with death do you appreciate life.’
‘Well, I’ve been faced with death for the last ten years and it hasn’t sent me into the realms of excitement,’ the grand duchess said acidly.
‘You used to fight bulls, didn’t you?’ Georgina asked Ramon as the grand duchess and Marisa glared at each other with open antagonism.
‘But of course. I’m Portuguese.’
Nancy’s eyes met his and she felt something deep melt within her. There was so much she did not know about him. So much to find out.
‘My father urged me to manly deeds, even bullfighting and trying to throw cows by their horns, from a very early age. I was only nine years old when I faced my first bull and very, very frightened.’
Duarte de Gama. Duarte Sanford. A man who had mistreated his wife and had faced his young son with a bull. Yet the son had never indicated anything but love and respect for a man who must have been extremely unlovable. He had never spoken of his father, except in the context of the Sanford-O’Shaughnessy saga. She would like to hear him speak of his father: to know what his true feelings were.
‘Do you attend Cowes?’ Princess Louise was asking her.
Nancy smiled. ‘Not for a long time.’ Not since as a little girl she had met the boy who was to become the love of her life.
Again their eyes met. Georgina pursed her lips. Though very little had been said directly between Nancy and Ramon during dinner, there was an atmosphere that no one, not even the grand duchess, could fail to be aware of. The taut excitement between them sent its reverberations around the whole table. Nancy glowed with an inner luminosity of pure happiness. Ramon’s restlessness seemed to have suddenly stilled, as if he had found peace he had long been searching for. And though the guests seated with them did not know it, Senator Jack Cameron was installed only rooms away from them, uninvited to the select dinner party presided over by his wife.
‘Regatta week,’ the sultan said knowledgeably. ‘I am always in England for regatta week.’
‘Will you be there with the Kezia this year, Ramon?’ Georgina asked.
‘My plans for the coming year are extremely fluid.’ Again his eyes met Nancy’s. This time the entire table glanced from one to the other with undisguised interest. Even Charles. If Charles had cottoned on to the fact that there was a rip-roaring love affair taking place between the ‘Panther’ of the international pack of playboys and the normally circumspect wife of the man destined to be the President of the United States of America, then they would be like lambs to the slaughter.
Nancy’s reputation would be ruined. Jack would divorce her – he would have to if he were to salvage his career. Georgina wondered if Ramon was aware of the havoc he was about to cause. His affaires were legion, but always before the ladies had been well able to take care of themselves. Nancy was different. Like herself, she could not afford the luxury of a casual lover. Georgina could barely control the exasperation she felt at Ramon’s reckless behaviour. In a few weeks he would be in Paris or Rome or London, another society beauty clinging adoringly to his arm. His life would go on as it always had and Nancy’s life would be shattered. All because of a heady infatuation. She wondered who was the bigger fool, Ramon or Nancy, and decided that it was Nancy. Ramon had nothing to lose: Nancy everything.
‘The Royal Yacht Squadron is the most exclusive club in the world,’ Charles was saying in answer to a query from the sultan. Viscountess Lothermere was telling Maria of Schiaparelli’s intention of visiting Moscow later in the year, and speculating on what that would mean in the change of future fashion.
Mr Blenheim was strenuously denying any family connection to King Zog of Albania, and agreeing with the grand duchess that the gentleman in question had been most wise in marrying his impoverished Hungarian countess instead of another lady who should remain nameless.
Princess Louise was asking Ramon why he had not been in St Moritz as usual for the winter sports, and if Zia would be attending the Paris fashion shows in February. Nancy was soothing the count’s displeasure by informing him of the prestigeousness of the other guests invited aboard the Montcalms’yacht, and bringing a sparkle of happiness into the countess’s eyes by telling her of the impromptu dances and cocktail parties aboard the many yachts, and of how splendid they looked riding at anchor, be-flagged and lit from stem to stern.
Nancy drew on an inner strength she did not know she possessed, to laugh and talk and be gay. Inside she was tired to the point of collapse. It came upon her like this; suddenly and for no reason, a fatigue that was crippling.
At last Ramon rose to escort her from the table. The room seemed suddenly hot. Airless and suffocating. The footman drew back her chair. The grand duchess was saying something to her but Nancy could not hear for the thundering in her ears. The shrivelled, crimson-painted lips continued ceaselessly and Nancy felt the sweat break out on her hands and on her forehead. With supreme willpower she struggled to her feet. The footman caught hold of her elbow, steadying her and then Ramon was at her side, saying anxiously:
‘Do you feel ill, darling?’
She could not see him. She could see nothing but a kaleidoscope of lights. With a small cry she reached out for him and the dazzling white of the tablecloth rose up and met her as she pitched forward.
The guests leapt to their feet, chairs overturning in their haste. Glasses fell and rolled, wine and brandy staining the handwoven linen.
‘Nancy!’ Ramon sprang towards her, lifting her from the wreck of glass and china.
‘My God, Sanford. Is she all right?’ Charles brushed a scattering of gardenia petals from his evening suit as he disentangled himself from the overturned table decoration and strode towards them.
Ramon swung her up into his arms. She lay limp, her skin chalk-white, her eyes closed.
‘Send for Serrado,’ he said grimly to a footman, and then he strode towards the door, his horrified guests hastily making way for him. Nancy’s high-heeled, backless sandals fell onto the floor and Countess Szapary bent and picked them up, ignoring her husband’s furious glare.
‘I didn’t think she looked well,’ Viscountess Lothermere said to Georgina.
‘Her mother was a Winterton. They’ve never been a robust family,’ Princess Louise said knowledgeably.
Marisa said nothing. She was too busy exchanging meaningful glances with the viscount, leaving him in no doubt as to the delights the future held for him.
Georgina stared after Ramon. For the first time it occurred to her that his affair with Nancy might be more than the usual week or month of fun and games. His eyes had been tortured as he lifted Nancy from the wrecked dinner table. She frowned. If Ramon had fallen in love with Nancy it would solve no problems. If anything, it would increase them. She sighed and slipped her arm through her husband’s, grateful for the stable state of her own marriage and the unflamboyant rock upon which it was built.
By the time Ramon had swept into the Garden Suite Nancy’s dark eyes had fluttered open and the colour was returning to her cheeks. She felt safe and secure. Protected by the depth of his love. It had been years since anyone cared whether she felt ill or well. Jack had no time for illness and always removed himself as speedily as possible if it threatened either his wife or daughter. Verity had always been too much of a child to understand on the rare occasions when Nancy had been laid low with a violent headache or flu. Ramon would have been tucking her up in bed with hot water bottles and warm brandy. Though they had never had those years together and though they never would have years together, it gave her intense happiness to know instinctively and beyond a shadow of a doubt what those years would have been like.
‘You should have told me you didn’t feel well,’ he said tightly, his handsome features as concerned as they had been earlier for his mother.
‘I’
m tired, my love. It was a silly faint, that’s all. There’s nothing for you to look so worried about.’
‘I should never have asked you to hostess tonight, not after the scene you endured with Cameron.’
His face was anguished as he slipped off her dress and slid a filmy silk nightdress over her head. Unresisting, she allowed him to lift her and lay her with unspeakable gentleness on the vast bed.
Dr Serrado entered breathlessly and Ramon remained at her side as he examined her. The doctor’s liquid brown eyes were worried as he prescribed iron tablets, red wine and rest. Nancy agreed to pills and wine but refused adamantly to travel to Lisbon for a second opinion. She had fainted. She often fainted. She had done so since she was a child. It was a lie, but it was one Dr Serrado believed. American women were not as strong as Portuguese women. They had no peasant vigour in their blood.
Dr Serrado returned to his rich, elderly and insomniac patients and Ramon pulled the lavishly embroidered sheets high over her shoulders. He dimmed the lights and then sat on the edge of the bed, her slim-boned hand in his strong one. Her eyes had closed, she felt his kiss on her brow and his touch as he tenderly stroked a stray curl away from her cheek and behind her ear, and then she was asleep, a smile on her lips. Beloved at last.
When she awoke the sun was streaming through the wooden slats of the shutters at her window. There was the familiar sound of perfumed water running into her bath. Maria was moving noiselessly, laying out silk lingerie, spreading a selection of dresses she thought Nancy might like to wear along the brass rail that fronted the wall-length wardrobe.
Nancy lay for a few moments, cocooned in the warmth of her bed, remembering the previous evening. Musingly she touched her forehead where he had kissed her as tenderly as if she had been a child. No one had ever shown such concern for her before. Not Jack. Not Verity. Not even her father. No one had ever sat by her side before, holding her hand until she slept.
She stretched cautiously. No limbs ached; no effort was required. She opened her eyes wide. She felt perfectly rested; perfectly fit. She sat up in bed and Maria adjusted the pillows, bringing in her breakfast tray. She ignored the chilled champagne and orange juice that Zia seemed to think the perfect early morning drink, and drank instead two cups of hot, strong, black coffee. She ignored the scrambled eggs and ate only a piece of toast. Then she sang as she swung her feet to the thickly carpeted floor and padded into the bathroom. She sang as she bathed and hummed as Maria did her hair and nails. The dress she chose to wear had a halter-neck and was deceptively simple. ‘Did you say Mr Sanford said he would be in conference with his secretary until noon, Maria?’
‘Yes, madame. He said that you were not to be disturbed; that you had to rest.’
Nancy gave a small laugh. ‘I don’t need to rest, Maria. I’ve never felt better in my life. Where did Mr Sanford say he would meet me for lunch?’
‘He said you were to meet him in his suite, madame.’
She had the whole morning to live through until she saw him again. She knew the reason for his working morning. He was instructing Villiers on the extra work necessary now that Zia was unwell. No doubt, if she could convince him that she was strong enough, he would tell her the less obvious duties normally executed by Zia.
Out on the terrace only one sun-lounger was occupied. It was still only nine o’clock and Sanfords’guests had not long been in bed.
‘Well, am I glad to see you,’ Georgina said lazily, shifting her position as Nancy approached.
A white-shorted, attentive pool-boy was already trundling another sun-lounger in close proximity to Georgina’s, providing cushions and the ubiquitous drinks trolley. Nancy thanked him and lay down beside Georgina. It was very quiet. There was no raucous laughter or high-pitched giggles. Nancy determined to sunbathe at an early hour every day. It was far more pleasant than when the terraces were alive with Meades and Carringtons, Michaeljohns and Lothermeres.
‘I thought you were going to die on us last night. You looked ghastly.’
‘It had been a long day.’
Georgina rolled over on to her stomach, her fall of golden hair spilling down so that it trailed in the dew-wet grass.
‘Vere, Nicki, Ramon and husband would make any day pretty tiring,’ she said drily.
Nancy felt the colour heighten in her cheeks. ‘Is everything so obvious?’
‘Until last night, only to me. Even now I think your name will only be linked with Ramon’s. That is, if you continue to gaze at each other with such unconcealed lust.’
‘I don’t lust after Ramon,’ Nancy said quietly. ‘I love him.’
‘So have a hundred others.’
‘It’s different this time.’
Georgina laughed kindly. ‘I wish I had a guinea for every time I’ve heard that.’
Despite herself, Nancy grinned. ‘It does all sound trite, doesn’t it? But it’s true. I do love him and he loves me.’
Georgina sighed. This was going to be harder than she had anticipated.
‘What about Princess Marinsky? Are you quite sure she isn’t waiting for him in Paris? I know rumours about Ramon’s future bride have been bandied about for years, but this time it did seem as if there might be some truth in them.’
Nancy shook her head. ‘No. If Ramon were to marry, he would marry Tessa Rossman.’
Georgina sat bolt upright and stared at her. ‘That child? Have you gone completely mad?’
Nancy giggled. It wasn’t often that Georgina lost her composure. ‘No, I have what is known in the trade as inside information.’
‘I bet you have,’ Georgina said darkly, laying down once again. ‘So you love Ramon and Ramon loves you? Taking this slowly and step by step, what about Vere? I had the distinct impression that he loves you too.’
‘Did you?’ Nancy frowned. Georgina’s perception was acute and she was intimately acquainted with Vere. He was part of the Montcalm set and Georgina was not a person to reach rash conclusions.
‘Yes,’ Georgina continued mercilessly, ‘I did. He looked happier than I have seen him look for years when he arrived here with you and then within days he had the eyes of a man being publicly tortured.’
This time it was Nancy who sat up, hugging her knees. Her thoughts had been so full of Ramon she could scarcely remember when she had last seen Vere.
‘Well?’ Georgina waited expectantly.
Nancy continued to hug her knees, staring out over the still waters of the Olympic-size pool. ‘I never meant to hurt Vere. I never told him I loved him or led him to expect anything from me. We are family and though we hadn’t met for years simply being related created its own bond.’
‘But he did fall in love with you?’
‘He said he had.’
‘Then I should believe him. He isn’t notorious for being a womanizer despite his undoubted charms and blond good-looks.’
‘We were never lovers,’ Nancy said defensively.
‘Neither are he and Clarissa.’
‘He never spoke about Clarissa. I knew he was unhappy but that was all.’
‘Vere never has, and I doubt he ever will, speak of Clarissa with truth. It would be too painful.’ She shaded her eyes against the rising glare of the morning sun. ‘Clarissa Chase is a very English beauty: fair-haired and blue-eyed. Rather too tall and athletically built for the tastes of many men. She rides to hounds, prefers the country to the city.’ Georgina fell silent. Nancy waited.
‘… and women to men.’
‘You mean as companions?’ Nancy asked, grasping at straws.
‘I mean as lovers,’ Georgina said bluntly, ‘which is why she is abroad so often. India, Morocco, Turkey. London society regards her as a modern-day Lady Stanhope, nothing more. I doubt if more than three people know. Vere, myself and now you.’
‘Why did you tell me?’ Nancy’s voice was low.
‘Because I’m extremely fond of Vere. He’s suffered enough hurt and humiliation in the past without suffering more. Now that you know t
he truth about his private life perhaps you will be kinder to him when you tell him you are in love with Ramon Sanford. Also, as you appear to have got closer to him than anyone else has, perhaps you can help him. He should divorce her and remarry. He’s terrified that if he does, Clarissa’s personal tastes will become public knowledge. Naturally they wouldn’t. It could be arranged that he appear the guilty party and she divorce him.’
‘Then why doesn’t he?’
‘Presumably because Clarissa enjoys the title of duchess and the Meldon millions. If he threatened her with exposure she would soon come to heel, but the trouble with Vere is that he belongs to that rare breed of men who are truly nice. He wouldn’t dream of taking such an attitude with her, which is a tragedy because his life is being ruined. Perhaps, at a suitable moment, you could make him see that. Give him the strength to endure some temporary unpleasantness and publicity for the sake of his future happiness, though not, apparently, with you.’
‘No.’
There was silence for a little while. Serena Lothermere emerged in a two-piece swimming costume and dived cleanly into the pool, swimming with strong, confident strokes.
‘Now for number two,’ Georgina said, and raised her hand, summoning an unseen but seeing waiter. ‘A daiquiri please.’
He turned to Nancy.
‘An iced coffee, please.’ He disappeared.
‘Number two?’
‘Stop playing dumb and stalling for time. Prince Nicholas Vasileyev. Am I right or am I wrong?’
‘You’re right.’
‘I thought I was. Does Ramon know about your little escapade with our dashing Russian?’
‘Yes.’
Georgina raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t expected that. Ramon might not be faithful but he expected his mistresses to be. Unless the affaire had only flowered in the last twenty-four hours. She dismissed the idea. The intensity of feeling that was apparent whenever they were in the same room together made a mockery of that theory. There seemed little more to be said about ‘number two’. She could hardly ask Nancy if she was conducting two affaires simultaneously.
The Flower Garden Page 23
