Gates declined the treat, though she gave a little sigh. She consoled herself with the thought that her delicate stomach would probably have heaved and cramped. “I’m here first of all to see that you’re all right. You are, that’s obvious. I’m also here to tell you that your parents are getting a divorce, Lindsay. Your mother is feeling poorly or she would have come to see you herself. I didn’t think something like that should be left to a phone call.”

Lindsay’s heart pounded slow deep strokes. It wasn’t a surprise, not really. She could remember the screaming matches, the hideous things they yelled at each other. She could remember her father saying cutting things about her, always comparing her to Sydney, and Jennifer defending, always defending, but still—“A divorce? But why?”

Gates shrugged. “They’re fools, what else?”

“But I’m not there anymore!”

Gates wasn’t surprised that the girl automatically blamed herself. Children were so vulnerable to adult tantrums. “You aren’t the reason they’re divorcing.” Gates looked briefly away, knowing she was lying in a way, but forging ahead. “You never could be the reason,” she said, her voice very firm. “Listen to me. You’re seventeen now, Lindsay, and not a child anymore. You know your father isn’t a faithful man. He wasn’t faithful to his first wife either. It was her convenient death that kept her from being divorced from him.” She shrugged, thinking of her dead husband, the philandering sod, and said her thought aloud, surprising herself at her candor. “Some men are like that. Your grandfather was the same way. He kept more mistresses than your father could ever dream of. I was just of another generation. I closed my eyes to it. I ignored it. But things are different now. Wives aren’t forced to accept things like that. Your mother just got tired of it, at least that’s what she says. Incidentally, she’s thin now, too thin. Isn’t that strange?”

“She isn’t ill, is she?”

“I don’t know, child. I’m tired, Lindsay, much too old for all this foolishness, but I felt you deserved to hear this in person and not on a telephone. You’ve changed somewhat, I think, you seem more mature, and I’m pleased. I’ve asked your father to leave the mansion. It seems strange to have only him there and not your mother. It’s a pity, really, but I always liked your mother. It’s just that she had no chance with your father, particularly after—But that’s something that doesn’t concern you. Well, anyway, he’s bought an elegant old Victorian up on Broadway, near Steiner, and has imported a gaggle of decorators. Your mother has bought a penthouse condominium on Nob Hill.”

“You’re all alone, Grandmother?”

“Yes, and it feels wonderful. So don’t go thinking I’ll die of loneliness. Your parents were really quite exhausting. I’d like to spend my golden years in blissful quiet.” Gates fell silent, looking out the dorm window at the snow-blanketed landscape. She’d forgotten about snow and cold and frigid winds. God, who could stand it?

Lindsay said abruptly, not meeting her grandmother’s eyes, “Father was here just three weeks ago.”

Gates looked clearly startled. “He came to see you?”

“No, he didn’t see me at all. I saw him quite by accident. I don’t know why he was here, maybe just to check that I wasn’t shaming the Foxe family with failing grades or doing drugs or something.”

“Or something,” Gates said. “He never told me he was coming here, but then again, he’s well over twenty- one and can go where he pleases. Of course, he did buy into a partnership with the academy owners, so perhaps he was simply here to check on his investment. Yes, that makes sense. He would want to discuss the business aspects with his new partners. That’s another reason I’m here as well.”

“I see.” Why hadn’t he at least come to say hello? If only she’d been Sydney, he would have been here in a flash, ready to take her to the best restaurants, ready to give her an expensive gift, ready to laugh at anything she said, ready to hug her. Why had he bought into the academy? She’d overheard one of the secretaries say something about it, but she’d dismissed it. So it was true after all. Was he afraid that she would flunk out and this was his way of protecting the Foxe name? It was embarrassing; she hoped none of the other girls ever found out. Why hadn’t he at least called her? “Mother hasn’t called since Christmas.”

“No, I imagine not. As I said, she’s not well. She will call you soon. Oh, yes, Lindsay, Sydney had a miscarriage. She’s all right, but the prince is desolated. His mother and sister are quite concerned about him. Actually, it wasn’t really a miscarriage, I guess. Sydney was driving somewhere and there was an accident of some kind that brought on premature labor. It was a male child, but it weighed just over a pound. There was no chance to save it.”

“Oh.”

“Your father flew over to be with her. He’s returning again very soon. He says she’s going back to the law firm. You knew she was trying to be a traditional wife, to fit in with all the di Contini social obligations in Milan. Who knows if she was succeeding. After she lost the child, it was over. We’ll see what happens. Alessandro isn’t happy about her decision, but what can he do? Sydney goes her own way. She’s strong, always has been, so you needn’t worry about her.”

Just to hear his name made Lindsay feel terribly exposed, somehow defenseless, made her ache deep inside. Poor Alessandro. She wondered how fast Sydney had been driving, she wondered if it had really been an accident. Sydney was probably driving very fast and it was all her own fault. The poor prince, wanting to be a father, wanting to have his own son, but Sydney had denied him. Lindsay knew, knew deep in her gut, that Sydney was responsible for the baby’s death. And now she would leave him and deny her duty to him as his wife.

Lindsay looked toward her desk. Wrapped carefully inside a silk-screen envelope were the three postcards the prince had sent her over the past six months, each one from a different place, each one precious to her, the first one from Santorini, where he and Sydney had spent several days on their honeymoon. He’d thought of her even then, even when he’d been with Sydney. Everything he’d written had been warm and interesting and he had signed them with love. Not from her brother-in-law, with best wishes, but from Alessandro. With love.

Lindsay swallowed. Sydney hadn’t deserved him, and now look what she’d done to him. She’d cheated him out of being a father. She’d killed his baby. Lindsay was suddenly aware that her grandmother was looking at her curiously, so she asked her about the hospital committee, asked her about Dorrey and about Lansford, the Foxe butler for thirty years.

The next morning Gates met with Mrs. Anglethorpe, the school’s headmistress, a woman in her early forties, black-haired, with a thick streak of silver running over her left temple, all smoothed into a thick chignon. She was deep-bosomed, long-legged, well-dressed, soft in her speech, and direct in her words and manner. After greeting Gates with great deference, as was her due, Candice Anglethorpe gave her tea and the best scones Gates had ever tasted outside Edinburgh.

She studied Candice Anglethorpe. Yes, she could see it, very clearly. The woman was lovely, bright, graceful, assertive, yet sensitive. She would take very good care of Lindsay. “I wish to know how my granddaughter is doing.”

“Ah, well, we were all concerned when she broke her leg skiing. I do understand that the accident would have been difficult to avoid, the other skier a man of uncertain skill, you understand.”

“I wasn’t speaking of her broken leg. How has she adapted? How are her studies progressing?”

Candice Anglethorpe pretended to count off on her fingers. “She’s quiet, but not shy. She’s bright, but not brilliant. She has two or three friends but only one close friend, Gayle Werth, whose parents are, incidentally, in politics. Gayle’s father is Senator George Werth from Vermont and her mother is a state legislator.

“Lindsay has no interest in boys yet, but of course all the girls giggle and fantasize and dish up tall tales. As for how Lindsay’s fitting in here, let me say, Mrs. Foxe, it is my feeling that this was the best thing for her. She’s very happy here. She belongs.”

“I knew she would be happy. Her parents are divorcing, as I imagine you already know.” Gates paused for just a moment, but Mrs. Anglethorpe remained carefully and studiously silent. Gates’s right eyebrow raised just a bit. “No, you didn’t know? Well, I just told Lindsay. She seemed not to care overly, but who knows about young girls? She might blame herself, which is absurd, as I told her already. I wanted to tell you just so if there were any odd behavior, you would be on the alert.”

“I understand. I was also told that you were here on behalf of your son, who is now one of the new partners of the Stamford Girls’ Academy. You have only to ask and I will see that you have whatever records you desire to examine. I will put my secretary at your disposal, Mrs. Foxe.”

Gates merely nodded and took another bite of the heavenly scone. The Cornish clotted cream was beyond

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