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circumstances, I could hardly say no.”
Jacqueline’s brows rose. “The circumstances?”
Margot leaned closer. “Of course, nothing’s been announced yet.” She glanced at Lily, who pretended not to see. Margot lowered her voice, “When Philip returns from Paris, he and I…we… ”She laid a conspiratorial hand on Jacqueline’s arm. “I really mustn’t say too much.”
Appalled, Angel tried to see Lily’s reaction, but she’d turned her head away and Angel could only see a rigid profile. Jacqueline, however, seemed delighted and she patted Margot’s hand.
“I quite understand.” She smiled. “Darling Philip. So he’s in Paris?”
“He will be,” replied Margot. “Next month—after South America.”
Jacqueline’s smile widened. “How wonderful that Philip is going back to Paris at last. He’ll be able to visit his mother. How is the dear Comtesse?”
Margot hesitated for a moment then said brightly, “Fine. She’s fine. Such a marvellous woman.”
“So she and Philip have finally reconciled?”
“Yes. No. That is…we hope…I—”
Jacqueline cut in smoothly, “Such a pity Lily has grown up without her grandmother’s influence. The Comtesse de Tourney is an icon in Paris. Everyone adores her. If only she and Philip were on speaking terms, she could have Lily to stay.” She tapped Margot’s hand with an elegant finger. “And you know an invitation from the Comtesse opens so many doors.”
“Yes. Yes, I had heard that.” Margot fiddled with the rose at her breast. “Do you know the Comtesse well?”
“Quite well, we took Elizabeth to Paris for the Versailles Ball last year and saw Elena several times.”
“The Versailles Ball.” Angel was surprised at the wistful note in Margot’s voice.
“That’s right,” Jacqueline answered. “Of course, you’ll have heard of it. It’s the climax of the Comtesse de Tourney’s famous summer season and where Antoine Vidal announces the winner of the Teen Couture.” She touched the diamonds at her throat, “Anyone who’s anyone sends their daughter to Paris for at least one Versailles Ball. Elena de Tourney has been running them for years.”
“Oh, yes, I—” Margot began, but Jacqueline interrupted.
“Such a pity Philip is estranged from his mother. She created the Versailles Ball, you know. I sometimes think she did it with Lily in mind.” The mayor came into view and Jacqueline waved. “I must go. Antoine will be appearing at any moment. Enjoy the collection, won’t you?” She nodded to Margot, smiled at Lily and turned away.
Angel knew she needed to hurry. The fashion parade was about to begin and she still had half a dozen dessert plates to clear before she could get off the floor. She could see the catering manager watching as the staff rapidly gathered dirty plates and silverware and headed for the kitchen.
She collected Margot’s plate and the congressman’s, his wife’s, the pompous author’s and Lily’s. As she picked up Clarissa’s plate a passing guest bumped her elbow and Angel watched helplessly as the mess of uneaten profiterole flew through the air and dropped with a chocolatey splat onto Clarissa’s pale-blue Marchesa-clad lap.
There was a suppressed yelp as Clarissa stared down at the chocolate staining her dress. Angel saw her furious face and heard the incensed whisper, “You did that on purpose.”
“No!” gasped Angel. “I am so sorry, I—” The lights had come up on the catwalk and beyond it she could see the catering manager frantically motioning for her to get off the floor. Grabbing a napkin from the table, she dropped it on Clarissa’s lap just as a burst of thunderous applause filled the room and Antoine Vidal strode down the catwalk towards her. Angel quickly turned away, but as she moved, something caught her ankle. She felt herself pitching forward and tried desperately to regain her balance.
It was impossible.
At the precise moment that Antoine Vidal, fashion icon and
Learning to Kill: Stories