pomp, the superb costuming, the elegance of the priest and his minions, were the perfect setting for his gem of a daughter. Much better than a simple Presbyterian ceremony or a Catholic one at the violently modern new Saint Mary’s Cathedral on Gough.
Jennifer stared at her stepdaughter, listened to her clear lovely voice saying her vows to the prince. So sure of herself she was, so arrogant and confident. She always had been, even when her new mother, Jennifer, had come into the Foxe mansion when Sydney had been only six years old. She’d looked up at Jennifer and smiled and said so quietly that only Jennifer could hear her, “You won’t replace my mother. You won’t replace anyone. I’ll see to it.”
Jennifer smiled now as she watched the prince slide the di Contini family wedding band on her finger. And she thought: At last you will be far away from me, you damned destructive bitch.
Lindsay Foxe could feel her body growing, particularly her legs. They ached and cramped and pulled and hummed with growth. The unfamiliar panty hose just made it worse, as did the low-heeled pumps that hurt her toes. She squirmed on the hard wooden bench, trying to get comfortable. Her mother gave her one of her looks and she tried to hold still. How tall would she get, anyway? She tried to focus on the wedding, but all her attention was really on the prince.
“Alessandro, do you take this woman, Sydney Trellison Foxe, to be your wedded wife?”
Lindsay looked at her mother’s profile and saw a pleased smile on her mouth. She wondered what she was thinking. She looked toward the prince again as he repeated his vows. She didn’t really want to, but she couldn’t help herself. She was sick in love with him, and had been since the first time she’d seen the photograph of him aboard his yacht, the
It was odd, though, but he never gave her that indulgent amused look he gave to her girlfriends. No, he would just nod to her, his look grave, his beautiful mouth unsmiling. He was normally quiet around her. Lindsay recognized he was handsome, a true prince fit for a princess, but it wasn’t entirely his superb good looks that made her numb and sweaty and tongue-tied. When he did speak to her, he was unfailingly kind, his voice pitched low and soothing, as if what she was and who she was mattered to him, as if he didn’t notice that she was a gawky teenage girl who was nearly as tall as he was. He didn’t appear to notice her stupid behavior, and most probably he didn’t. She wasn’t important enough to notice. After all, she was a kid, clumsy and stupid, ugly as sin with her frizzy hair, and he was marrying beautiful Sydney, who didn’t have a bumbling bone in her perfect body. Ah, but lately it seemed that Sydney had garnered a lot of mean bones; Lindsay would have wagered that the prince had never seen a single one of them.
The prince was speaking in his firm deep voice, swearing fidelity and his love to Sydney forever. His voice was as beautiful as the bishop’s. Why should he care if Lindsay had decided she would willingly give her life for him? He had Sydney; he had the world.
Lindsay looked away from him, swallowing tears. It hurt too much. Her knees creaked and ached and she shifted her legs. At sixteen she had come to the conclusion that life was made up of very few happy bits and big- doses-of-misery bits. She thought about her dreams of the prince. Silly and absurd. They were pathetic.
“. . . forsaking all others until death do us part.”
The sun was brilliant overhead outside the church. It was just one o’clock in the afternoon. Paula Kettering shook her head at the accomplishment of her own private prediction. A lovely wedding, perfectly planned, perfectly executed. She drove her BMW to the Foxe mansion on the corner of Pacific and Bayberry for what would undoubtedly be the most elegant, the most sumptuous reception of the entire year.
Princess Sydney, as her friends were already calling her, was upstairs in the Foxe mansion in her bedroom, studying her reflection in the mirror.
She was flushed with pleasure, her cheeks a glowing pink. Everything had gone off perfectly. Of course, she never left anything to chance, it wasn’t in her nature. She was thorough. That was one reason why she was an excellent attorney, that and the fact that she was so beautiful, the opposing attorneys many times forgot why they were there, they were so intent on staring at her. They lost big, usually. As for the female attorneys who opposed, she usually managed to intimidate the hell out of them, poor homely bitches.
She turned from the mirror after applying another coat of lip gloss to see Lindsay coming awkwardly into the room. She frowned.
“For God’s sake, pull your shoulders back. You look like a hunchback. At least you don’t have a teenage complexion. That would put the topping on the cake, wouldn’t it?”
Lindsay’s hand went to her face; then she dropped her too-long arms back to her sides. Her hands felt big and useless, and the knuckles ached. “Yes, it would. You look beautiful, Sydney. The prince asked me to see if you were ready to come down. Mother wants the cake cut now.”
“Lady Jennifer can wait until I’m ready. It’ll do her good. Besides, she’s fat. That wedding cake is the last thing her waistline needs.”
Lindsay just wished Sydney would hold her tongue. But she couldn’t let it pass, and said, “Mother’s not very happy, you know that.”
Sydney shrugged and gently eased a flap of lace over her wrist. “If she didn’t let herself go, then Father wouldn’t be screwing around. He told me that making love to a cow wasn’t his idea of a good time.”
Lindsay turned quickly. “I’ll tell them you’ll be down soon.”
“Yes, you do that. Oh, yes, one thing, Lindsay. Your puppy infatuation for the prince is amusing, at least I thought it was at first. He told me it was getting embarrassing. Father asked me to speak to you. He says it’s pathetic. Try to keep your little-girl sighs to yourself, all right, dear?”
Lindsay fled.
“That’s a lie and you know it!”
“Why, if it isn’t Lady Jennifer. You’ve stooped to eavesdropping now?”
“There’s no reason to make Lindsay feel rotten,” Jennifer said, coming into the room. “She’s a good girl, sweet-natured, and yet you persist in putting her down. And you just started doing it. When you saw her father doing it, right? You can’t act for yourself, can you, Sydney? You have to do what your damned father does, no matter the consequences, no matter who gets hurt. You always assume he’s right. Well, in this case he isn’t, he’s just being vicious and mean and you’re copying him just like a little Xerox machine.”
Sydney shrugged. “Actually, I don’t give a damn about the kid, not a bit more than Father does. She’s pitiful, and Alessandro thinks so too. As Father says, she’s a weed in his garden, big, gawky and ugly. It hurts him to have to see her here. He plans to send her away, you know.”
Jennifer wanted to slap her. She was lying about Lindsay. Royce wouldn’t do that to her, he’d never send her away, never. His mother would stop him. She was trembling, her hands fisted at her sides.
“Come down. Cut the bloody cake and then get the hell out of here. The thought of you living eight thousand miles from me is the only one getting me through the day.”
“The thought of coming eight thousand miles to visit me in Milan is the only thought getting Father through the day.”
2
“No, this can’t be true. Sydney told me you were going to send Lindsay away, but I didn’t believe her. I never believed her, not for a minute, that’s why I didn’t say anything to you, but now—” Jennifer Foxe waved a thick envelope in front of her husband. “Tell me it isn’t true, Royce. Tell me this is a mistake.”
“On the contrary, Jennifer, it’s completely true. I’m finally sending your daughter away from here. Are those
