by Brenda Joyce
She could not concentrate on the task at hand. Her mind was spinning crazily as it had been all afternoon. She had thought herself to be that woman, Elizabeth Sinclair. For a week or more she had lived as that woman, as Elizabeth Sinclair. And then, when the amnesia had disappeared, she had masqueraded as her as well.
She could not help being touched with guilt for purposefully assuming the other woman's identity.
They did not really look alike. There was no real resemblance between her and Elizabeth Sinclair. Yes, they were both blonde and pretty, both slender and petite. But there was no way that anyone who had ever met either one of them could mistake them for each other.
Of course, Rick had already confessed that he had realized the truth from the beginning, and Regina had long since forgiven him. No one else at Miramar had ever laid eyes on Elizabeth, except for James, who was dead.
What was she doing here?
The question had drummed in her brain all day until her head was aching from it. Regina could not help thinking that she was here to take what should have been hers from the very start-both Miramar and Slade.
She stared at herself. Her face was drawn, her expression tense. Her fear was ridiculous; she was Slade's wife, and that was irrevocable. But Elizabeth Sinclair's advent into their life could not have come at a worse time. It was one more blow for her to survive, and after the series of blows already dealt to their marriage, she felt almost incompetent to deal with it.
But she would.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Slade knocked briefly on the door, then pushed it open. Regina stared at him in the mirror. He paused in the doorway, staring back. Finally he said, "Isn't the gala tonight?"
"Yes, it is." Her voice was amazingly calm. Was he going to tell her about the visit from Elizabeth Sinclair?
He walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He went straight to the armoire, where his tuxedo, freshly pressed, was hanging on the door. He began to undress. Then, his shirt balled up and clenched in his hand, he faced her. "Aren't you going to say something.”
She looked at him. "About what?"
"About last night."
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know. Something. Anything. Most women would be having a fit, or be in tears, or be in bed with the covers pulled up over their heads, sulking."
"I'm not most women."
"Don't I know it."
She hesitated. "All right, I'm sorry you stayed out last night, sorry and disappointed."
He winced. "You would know how to make me feel even worse."
"You should feel guilty, Slade. If you want to apologize, I would accept."
"You know what?" he said roughly. "I am sorry. Damn, but I'm sorry for everything."
She was afraid he was not referring to last night, but to their marriage. She found she could not respond.
He turned his back on her to pull off his pants, his movements hard and abrupt.
Dismay crept over her. "Aren't you going to tell me?"
"Tell you what?" He pulled on a dressing gown.
"Aren't you going to tell me about the visitor you had today?"
He froze. "What?"
"Elizabeth Sinclair."
He moved toward her, meeting her eyes in the mirror. He paused behind her. "How do you know that she came to see me today?"
"I saw her. We met in the elevator, so to speak. I had hoped to have lunch with you, but when I realized who she was… well, I was upset."
"So you left."
"Yes."
Slade moved to her side so he could look at her directly. Apprehensive, Regina turned to face him. "What did she want?"
"I don't know."
"What did she say?" She was trembling.
"She gave me some stupid song and dance about how sorry she was about James. It was a big fat lie. That woman doesn't have a drop of sympathy in her blood for my brother," Slade said angrily.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. She told me that before James died they had an argument and broke it off mutually. Which was why she didn't arrive in Templeton as scheduled."
"But no one knew," Regina said.
"That's right!" Slade cried. "She was lying through her teeth, Regina. James was head over heels in love with her, although after meeting her, I can't figure out why. James would have never broken up with her. She obviously broke up with him just before he died. But why, why didn't he say something?"
"Because he was hurt?"
Slade hit the wall with his hand. "Damn it! It kills me to think that James died with a broken heart. Damn her!"
Regina, having heard so much about James for so long now, felt as if she had known him, and she was also moved. "Maybe you're wrong, Slade."
"No, I'm not. She left lickety-split when she found out I was married. In fact, when she found out about you, she changed as fast as a chameleon. If you want to know what I really think, I think she was sniffing around me for one reason and it had nothing to do with James-it was for the purpose of marriage."
"I knew it," Regina said faintly.
He gave her a dark look and stalked away. Regina stared at the mirror, not seeing her own reflection or his. She had been right. Elizabeth had come here to claim Slade and her place at Miramar. It did not make sense, not after she had ended her engagement to James. But it was the only explanation for her sudden appearance in their lives. "Why would she break it off with James and then decide she wanted to marry you?"
"I don't know and I really don't care," Slade said shortly. "Forget her, Regina, she's the past."
He was right. Elizabeth was now the past. Regina had wondered about the other woman for some time, and slowly she began to relax. Some of the questions which had plagued her were answered, and she supposed the others would never be resolved. But it didn't really matter.
Elizabeth had come here, dramatically entering their lives, to claim Slade and her place at Miramar. But she had come too late. After the masquerade, after having assumed her identity, and even having believed herself to be her for a while, Regina was glad to have finally been confronted with the mysterious other woman. Her sudden reappearance in their lives could have been destructive, but as fate would have it, she could be easily dismissed instead. She had touched their lives more deeply than she would ever know, for if not for her, Regina would have never been taken in by the Delanzas, she would have never married Slade. Her role in this drama was over, once and for all. Perhaps in the back of her mind Regina had worried all along about the real Elizabeth Sinclair. She realized that she was relieved.
It was one of the most beautiful, and one of the most painful, sights he had ever seen in his life.
Slade stood on the edge of the dance floor, blending into the festive crowd but feeling apart from it. The huge ballroom of the Man
n mansion was filled almost to capacity. The men were clad in tailcoats, the women in brilliantly hued ball gowns, feathered boas, and glittering jewels. The vaulted ballroom was alive with the buzz of conversation, laughter, and the rich, vibrant strains of a string quartet. White-jacketed waiters passed around exotic aperitifs, and banquet tables in the back of the room were laden with equally exotic food. Xandria had chosen a tropical motif for the ball. The floral arrangements were tall, exotic orange and purple blooms, and thirty-foot palms graced the four corners of the room. Slade was barely aware of these details as he stood watching the dancers whirling in clouds of billowing, jewel-like colors. For among them was his wife.
She was dancing with an acquaintance of his. She had been dancing for the past half hour. Slade was certain that his wife had taken to the dance floor to escape him.
They had ridden over to the Mann mansion in silence. He was well aware that his marriage had unraveled. Regina, once carefree and gay, was pale and withdrawn. Her attempts at light conversation were forced. Overwhelmed with what he had done earlier that day, Slade could not respond to her overtures. But as soon as they had arrived, Regina was transformed. He had watched her in amazement. She moved among the crowd with animation and enthusiasm, as if there was nothing at all wrong in her life. She had learned the art of social conversation well. She conversed with strangers as if they were old and dear friends. She had the knack of putting everyone immediately at ease. She was gay, beautiful, and bright. Everyone instantly adored her, falling hard for her charm.
He admired her. He had always admired her, from the very first, but now more than ever. This facade of hers could not be easy to maintain. He knew that she was strained from his rude behavior last night, behavior he still regretted, and from the brief advent of Elizabeth Sinclair into their lives. While the meeting with Elizabeth had left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth- he had taken an instant, overwhelming dislike to her- she could be easily dismissed from his thoughts. Last night could not be so easily forgotten.
He would never forget the sight of Regina begging her father for her inheritance, he would never forget the sound of her pleas. Despite the fact that he had told her he would not take her money, obviously she could not bear to be parted from it. He did not condemn her for her materialism. She deserved to live like a princess; no woman deserved it more.
Shelton's words haunted him, too. Apparently he, Slade, was not her first infatuation, and, like Shelton, he doubted he would be the last.
It would be easy to believe what he wanted to believe-that she loved him. It would also be very foolish.
They were so different. He had known it all along, but now the differences were glaring. Seeing her here at the gala, moving so easily among the elite of San Francisco society, was the final proof. She loved this kind of life and all that it involved; he hated it. He hated this nonsense, he always had. He was a simple man with simple needs. A life at Miramar was all he'd every really, secretly coveted, until Regina. But Regina thrived in this glossy, glittering setting. How could he have thought for a moment that she would be happy living with him at Miramar? Here, at last, was proof that he had done what was right.
Turning, Slade walked away, into the crowd.
Regina finally refused her fifth or sixth dance partner, not having to make up an excuse, for she was truly tired. The evening seemed endless. Once upon a time a night like this would have delighted her. Now it took all of her well-bred schooling and all of her determination to present an amiable facade to the guests who had come in her and Slade's honor.
She did not see Slade, which was just as well. His increasingly withdrawn demeanor was frightening her. With every passing hour he grew more distant from her. Regina did not know what she was doing wrong. She was cheerful and bright, including him skillfully in every single conversation, even when it was all too clear that he did not want to be included. She was growing desperate. This evening should have been the perfect opportunity for the two of them to regain some normalcy in their marriage, as they had to present a united front to all those they met. Yet it was just the opposite case. Dread had long since beat its way into her breast.
Exhausted, Regina headed toward the powder room. She looked for Slade as she moved through the crowded ballroom but did not glimpse him. Her parents were in attendance, and they waved at her, trying to entice her to come over to them. Regina signaled them that she would return in a moment. But she did not want to speak with them tonight. They would take one look at her and demand to know why she was so unhappy.
She was unhappy. She was unhappy and frightened. How were she and Slade going to continue if their relationship kept on worsening? How could she stop this perilous downslide when she did not even understand it?
She was moving past the open doors of the terrace when a movement in the shadows outside caught her attention. The terrace was illuminated with dozens of paper lanterns, strung up and glowing like small incandescent moons. She paused, her gaze settling on a very familiar outline.
Rick had seen her too. Shrugging sheepishly, he came out of the shadows and met her inside.
"You came!"
"Yeah, well, hell." Rick looked uncomfortable. "You have a way about you."
Regina smiled. It was tremulous, but her first real smile of the night.
"You don't look good," Rick said bluntly. "You've had enough for tonight. Slade should take you home."
Tears were misting her vision, tears that had nothing to do with her own heavy heart. She pointed toward the dancers. "He's over there somewhere. Go to him, Rick."
Instead of moving, Rick said, "I shouldn't be here."
"No," Regina said, "you should be here." She took his arm. She had been going to the powder room for a brief respite, but this was more important. "Come with me."
Reluctantly, Rick allowed himself to be led across the room.
They finally found Slade standing alone beneath one of the potted palm trees. It struck her then that his lonely stance beneath the tree in the corner of the room was as purposeful as his self-inflicted exile in San Francisco, and as meaningful.
He saw them. His eyes widened.
Rick nodded at his son. "Fancy turnout."
"I don't believe this," Slade said. "I've been living in the city for ten years, yet until last week I never saw you here, not once. Now, in one week, I see you twice. I don't understand."
Rick shoved his hands in his pockets. "I came to the city to speak with your wife. But since she won't ask you to come home, I realized I'll have to do it myself."
"What?"
"You heard. You're gone and Edward's gone." He shifted. "I can't run the place alon
e."
"Sure you can, Rick. Even when James was alive, you were running it alone."
Regina came to life. "Slade, your father has just asked you to go home!"
"I heard him. I'll think about it," he said to Rick.
"What the hell is there to think about?" Rick asked angrily. "You prefer this crap to Miramar? That’s real. This is a fairyland and nothing more!"
"Maybe I'll think about how long it took you to ask me to come home-and why you want me at Miramar now-when you never did before."
"Stop it!" Regina cried. "Why can't you both put your damnable pride aside and admit that you need each other? Why? Oh, to hell with you both!"
She turned and fled, finally pushed over the edge. She had had enough. She ran through the crowd and found herself alone on the terrace under the dozens of paper moons. She gripped the cold iron railing, refusing to cry. "Damn you," she whispered, cursing Slade. "Stubborn bloody fool." If he refused to make peace with his father, would he refuse to make peace with her, too? What would it take for Rick to get through to him? What would it take for her to get through to him?
"Regina?"
She tensed. Her father was the last person she wanted to see. "Please go away."
"I can't, not when you are so upset." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Why isn't your husband here comforting you?"
Regina turned to face him. "Because we're having problems. Isn't that what you want to hear?"
Nicholas sat beside her on the bench. "Do you want to tell me?"
"No, not really."
