Something Dangerous (Spoils of Time 02) by Penny Vincenzi Read Free Book Online

something of our own. I really can’t wait until you old fogies decide to have another big family party or wedding or something.’
    ‘Well you might have to.’
    ‘Might not be that long,’ said Maud, kissing him, ‘there must be lots of weddings waiting to happen. When you think about it . . .’
     
    Venetia looked at Boy Warwick, dancing energetically with Bunty Valance, and wondered if she’d been wrong and Adele had been wrong, and whether he was even the tiniest bit interested in her. He’d only danced with her once, and since then had done the Charleston with Babs Rowley – who really was a rather annoyingly good dancer – the foxtrot with Adele – well, that was all right, of course – and was now doing a very showy blackbottom with some other girl he’d met there, not even in their party. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t. It was spoiling the birthday and – he came back to the table now, smiled at them all, mopping his brow rather theatrically.
    ‘That was hard work. Noël Coward’s on the floor now, have you seen him, wonderful dancer he is. And yes, we were right, there’s the Prince. And with Thelma. I know how fascinated you girls are by her.’
    ‘I couldn’t care less who he’s with,’ said Venetia sulkily, but she stared at the Prince of Wales and the beautiful Lady Furness in fascination just the same.
    ‘Isn’t she lovely?’ said Adele, who had also been watching her, transfixed.
    ‘Not as lovely as you, my darling,’ said Boy, ‘as either of you.’ And he took both their hands, raised them to his lips and kissed them simultaneously. ‘Come on, let me see if I can dance with both of you at once.’
    Later, the band playing a waltz, Venetia danced alone with Boy, felt his smooth hand on her bare back, his warm body pressed against hers. She had had too many cocktails before dinner and too much champagne since; she leaned just slightly too heavily against him.
    ‘That’s nice,’ he said, into her ear. ‘Very nice. You’re very beautiful, Venetia. Very beautiful indeed. And in that dress, you look exactly like a print I bought the other day, by Lepape.’
    She knew who Lepape was, of course, and was particularly familiar with his wonderful covers for Vogue : the twins might spend their days shopping and their nights dancing, but they had not grown up in their father’s house without absorbing certain extremely important tracts of knowledge.
    ‘Goodness. You’ve got Lepape prints?’
    ‘I have. In my flat. Quite a collection. Lots of them, many of ladies who look like you. You should come and see them some time. Both of you,’ he added an almost imperceptible second later.
    Venetia perceived that second. She also knew what it meant: and she recognised what he was saying. She took a deep breath.
    ‘We don’t always go everywhere together, you know,’ she said, and smiled up at him. And then felt horribly shocked at herself. It was not so much the clear commitment – as he would quite rightly interpret it – to go to his flat, with all that it implied; it was rather the fact that for almost the first time in her life she had committed a betrayal of her absolute closeness and loyalty to Adele.
    ‘Good,’ was all Boy Warwick said.
     
    ‘Well, Sebastian, do tell us all about your meeting,’ said Celia, ‘it must have been very well attended.’
    They were still in the dining room but almost alone; even Kit had been banished, sent protesting to bed.
    ‘It was,’ said Sebastian. ‘Which was nice for me. And for Lyttons of course,’ he added, leaning back in his chair, smiling at her. ‘I sold a great many books this evening.’
    ‘Splendid,’ said Oliver, ‘well done. I’m sure you did us proud, Sebastian. As always. And how is Meridian Times Five coming along? We will – I mean—’ His voice tailed off; Sebastian laughed.
    ‘Oliver, of course you will. Have I ever failed you? You shall have your new book, in good time for Christmas publication. And with