and Kate had found his: his daughter. If Lucy were to marry into the Blackwell family, a merger of some kind would become inevitable. Tony looked across the breakfast table at his mother, despising her. She had baited the trap well. Lucy was not only beautiful, she was intelligent and charming. But she was as much of a pawn in this sick game as Tony was, and nothing in the world could induce him to touch her. This was a battle between his mother and himself.
When breakfast was over, Kate rose. 'Tony, before your phone call comes in, why don't you show Miss Wyatt the gardens?'
There was no way Tony could refuse graciously. 'All right.' He would make it short.
Kate turned to Charlie Wyatt. 'Are you interested in rare books? We have quite a collection in the library.'
'I'm interested in anything you want to show me,' the Texan said.
Almost as an afterthought, Kate turned back to Marianne Hoffman. 'Will you be all right, dear?'
'I'll be fine, thank you, Mrs. Blackwell. Please don't worry about me.'
'I won't,' Kate said.
And Tony knew she meant it. Miss Hoffman was of no use to Kate, and so she dismissed her. It was done with a light charm and a smile, but beneath it was a single-minded ruthlessness that Tony detested.
Lucy was watching him. 'Are you ready, Tony?'
'Yes.'
Tony and Lucy moved toward the door. They were not quite out of earshot when Tony heard his mother say, 'Don't they make a lovely couple?'
The two of them walked through the large, formal gardens toward the dock where the Corsair was tied up. There were acres and acres of wildly colored flowers staining the summer air with their scent.
'This is a heavenly place,' Lucy said.
'Yes.'
'We don't have flowers like these in Texas.'
'No?'
'It's so quiet and peaceful here.'
'Yes.'
Lucy stopped abruptly and turned to face Tony.
He saw the anger in her face. 'Have I said something to offend you?' he asked.
'You haven't said anything. That's what I find offensive. All I can get out of you is a yes or a no. You make me feel as though I'm—I'm chasing you.'
'Are you?'
She laughed. 'Yes. If I could only teach you to talk, I think we might have something.'
Tony grinned.
'What are you thinking?' Lucy asked.
'Nothing.'
He was thinking of his mother, and how much she hated losing.
Kate was showing Charlie Wyatt the large, oak-paneled library. On the shelves were first editions of Oliver Goldsmith, Laurence Sterne, Tobias Smollett and John Donne, along with a Ben Jonson first folio. There was Samuel Butler and John Bun-yan, and the rare 1813 privately printed edition of Queen Mab. Wyatt walked along the shelves of treasures, his eyes gleaming. He paused in front of a beautifully bound edition of John Keats's Endymion.
'This is a Roseberg copy,' Charlie Wyatt said.
Kate looked at him in surprise. 'Yes. There are only two known copies.'
'I have the other one,' Wyatt told her.
'I should have known,' Kate laughed. 'That 'good ol' Texas boy' act you put on had me fooled.'
Wyatt grinned. 'Did it? It's good camouflage.'
'Where did you go to school?'
'Colorado School of Mining, then Oxford on a Rhodes Scholarship.' He studied Kate a moment. 'Fm told it was you who got me invited to that White House conference.'
She shrugged. 'I merely mentioned your name. They were delighted to have you.'
'That was mighty kind of you, Kate. Now, as long as you and I are alone, why don't you tell me exactly what's on your mind?'
Tony was at work in his private study, a small room off the main downstairs hallway. He was seated in a deep armchair when he heard the door open and someone come in. He turned to look. It was Marianne Hoffman. Before Tony could open his mouth to make his presence known, he heard her gasp.
She was looking at the paintings on the wall. They were Tony's paintings—the few he had brought back from his apartment in Paris, and this was the only room in the house where he would allow them to be hung. He watched her walk around the room, going from painting to painting, and it was too late to say anything.
'I don't believe it,' she murmured.
And Tony felt a sudden anger within him. He knew they were not that bad. As he moved, the leather of his chair creaked, and Marianne turned and saw him.
'Oh! I'm sorry,' she apologized. 'I didn't know anyone was in here.'
Tony rose. 'That's quite all right.' His tone was rude. He disliked having his sanctuary invaded. 'Were you looking for something?'
'No. I—I was just wandering around. Your collection of paintings belongs in a museum.'
'Except for these,' Tony heard himself saying.
She was puzzled by the hostility in his voice. She turned to look at the paintings again. She saw the signature. 'You painted these?'
'I'm sorry if they don't appeal to you.'
'They're fantastic!' She moved toward him. 'I don't understand. If you can do this, why would you ever want to do anything else? You're wonderful. I don't mean you're good. I mean you're wonderful.'
Tony stood there, not listening, just wanting her to get out.
'I wanted to be a painter,' Marianne said. 'I studied with Oskar Kokoschka for a year. I finally quit because I knew I never could be as good as I wanted to be. But you!' She turned to the paintings again. 'Did you study in Paris?'
He wished she would leave him alone. 'Yes.'
'And you quit—just like that?'
'Yes.'
'What a pity. You—'
'There you are!'
They both turned. Kate was standing in the doorway. She eyed the two of them a moment, then walked over to Marianne. 'I've been looking everywhere for you, Marianne. Your father mentioned that you like orchids. You must see our greenhouse.'
'Thank you,' Marianne murmured. 'Fm really—'
Kate turned to Tony. 'Tony, perhaps you should see to your other guests.' There was a note of sharp displeasure in her voice.
She took Marianne's arm, and they were gone.
There was a fascination to watching his mother maneuver people. It was done so smoothly. Not a move was wasted. It had started with the Wyatts arriving early and the Hoffmans arriving late. Lucy being placed next to him at every meal. The private conferences with Charlie Wyatt. It was so damned obvious, and yet Tony had to admit to himself that it was obvious only because he had the key. He knew his mother and the way her mind worked. Lucy Wyatt was a lovely girl. She would make a wonderful wife for someone, but not for him. Not with Kate Black-well as her sponsor. His mother was a ruthless, calculating bitch, and as long as Tony remembered that, he was safe from her machinations. He wondered what her next move would be.
He did not have to wait long to find out.
They were on the terrace having cocktails. 'Mr. Wyatt has been kind enough to invite us to his ranch next weekend,' Kate told Tony. 'Isn't that lovely?' Her face radiated her pleasure. 'I've never seen a Texas ranch.'
Kruger-Brent owned a ranch in Texas, and it was probably twice as big as the Wyatt spread.
