Читать книгу The Sins of Nightsong - V. J. Banis - Страница 10

CHAPTER FIVE

The party for Empress Cosmetics in the main ballroom of the San Francisco Hotel was lavish. A huge cake dominated the buffet table, the number “9” sculptured in yellow frosting. Almost everyone in the city’s social register was there, dressed in their finest, wearing jewelry that lay most of the year in private vaults.

Lydia mingled easily with the guests, all the while keeping an eye on the doorway. She had not seen Peter MacNair for several months and hoped he would come to her anniversary party tonight. Secretly, she prayed he would come alone. His wife, Lorna, made it only too clear how much she hated Lydia. The scene Lorna made at the Hearsts’ party a few years ago was still vivid in everyone’s mind. Why Lorna had openly accused her of causing David’s death was incomprehensible, but Lorna MacNair made it known to everyone there that Lydia Nightsong made her fortune as a result of a theft and had encouraged her son to duplicate her crime.

“My son David was murdered because of this woman’s example,” Lorna had charged. “And one day I will get even, I swear it.”

It had caused a scandal, but Lydia was accustomed to scandal by this time. First was that sordid business with Walter Hanover, the man who bankrupted her and then blackmailed her out of fifty percent of her now thriving Empress Cosmetics empire. Peter MacNair had bought Walter off and still held a right to half her fortune, though he never claimed it, even when his own cosmetic firm was on the verge of collapse.

When she glanced toward the door again Raymond Andrieux touched her arm. “Who are you waiting for? Peter MacNair, I suspect.”

Raymond was still the same handsome Frenchman she’d hired as her nez years and years before, the only man with the unique talent of duplicating the scent she’d taken from the Dowager Empress when she and April fled China. Without Raymond there would never have been an Empress Cosmetics empire, let alone a ninth anniversary. Without Raymond and the exclusive Nightsong Perfume he’d duplicated, Empress Cosmetics would cease to exist.

Lydia ignored him and smiled at a passing guest.

“You did invite Mr. MacNair, didn’t you?” Raymond persisted.

“I invited Mr. and Mrs. MacNair, naturally. They are very prominent San Franciscans.”

“Even though the woman almost had you ostracized from the upper crust with her nasty tongue.”

“Lorna MacNair may say whatever she pleases. That’s why they call this a free country.”

“And you are far too rich and far too powerful a businesswoman to be ignored.” Raymond laughed and leaned closer. “Just don’t forget, dear Lydia, that I am the one responsible for all your money and your success.”

“I believe I pay you handsomely for your talent, Raymond. There is nothing you lack. I see to that, do I not?”

“I lack a wife,” he reminded her, giving her a knowing look.

“You have a wife. I need not remind you that you are still legally married to my daughter.”

“Yes. It’s about time I did something about that. April never intends coming back from China, I’m beginning to realize.”

That was another scandal the newspapers had a field day with. “The Continuing Nightsong Chronicles,” the gossip columns headlined when April abandoned her husband and children and ran off to China with David MacNair. What additional fun the gossips would have had if they knew that the young son April had abandoned, Marcus, was really Lydia’s child and that Peter MacNair was the father. Even Peter didn’t know, and Raymond was never told the name of the child’s father when Lydia bore him in Paris and gave him up to April and Raymond.

“I don’t agree with you,” Lydia said. “Why did April send me that cablegram saying she was coming home?”

“That was ages ago. Knowing my dear wife,” he said with a touch of sarcasm, “she took up with another young buck, or maybe that prince who fathered her married her off to a royal relative.”

It was all possible, of course. Lydia had to remind herself how headstrong and independent April had always been. She had never lived by the rules, but Lydia blamed herself for all of April’s faults and fantasies. She’d done everything for April, much of it shameful to recall.

“I am sure a good lawyer would arrange to dissolve my marriage to April,” Raymond said. “What was the name of the legal firm that got you legally unbound from that Oriental prince of yours?”

She told him. “And I’ll remind you how long it took for that matter to be settled without publicity.”

“Then I’d better start proceedings tomorrow.” He smiled into her eyes. “Then I may just propose to you.”

“Really, Raymond. Don’t you think we have been smeared enough by the scandalmongers?” His tone had been flippant, but she knew he was being serious. Too often he’d pressured her to go to bed with him and, traitorous as it was to admit, he was the only man other than Peter MacNair who aroused her sexually.

“Who cares about scandalmongers? I should have married you in the first place. April and I were all wrong for each other.”

True as it was, though, Raymond found he could never close his eyes without being reminded of April’s beauty. But having married a half-Oriental girl, he soon learned how bigoted Americans were. He found himself snubbed by society. The Chinese were the subject only of abuse and scorn in San Francisco. Being a native from Paris, he hadn’t known that until it was too late. Everyone came to the wedding because of Lydia’s financial bribes.

Secretly, he hated America. Having been born and raised in France he’d never learned what the word prejudice meant because he’d only known Frenchmen. One day he’d return...go back where he belonged, where people were light and gay and had fun. Here all they did was work and build things. With a sigh he told himself that it wouldn’t be long now before he would be in a position to move the main operation of Empress Cosmetics to its Paris branch. If April came back, he’d take her there to live, if she didn’t, he’d take Lydia.

Raymond said, “You would marry me, wouldn’t you, Lydia? I mean, when I’m free of April, of course.”

Lydia glanced toward the door and her heart gave a little tug when she saw Peter MacNair standing there. “I’d have to think on it, Raymond,” she said, not really having heard exactly what he’d said. Peter MacNair always made the world stop for her.

Raymond grabbed her arm. “You will never marry Peter MacNair, if that is what you’re plotting. He’d never divorce Lorna, she’d see to that. She isn’t like you, Lydia; the scandal would kill her.”

She wrenched herself free. “I am not planning on marrying anyone at the moment, Raymond,” she said as she turned and started toward Peter. She flashed him a broad smile and held out both hands to him.

“Congratulations, Lydia,” he said, his face lighting up when he saw her coming toward him. He eyed her admiringly. “Both on your ninth anniversary and the fact that you are the most ravishing woman in San Francisco.”

“Only in San Francisco?” Lydia chided.

“The country! The world!”

For Peter, it was no exaggeration.The years hadn’t touched her. She was just as beautiful as she was the first day he met her, almost twenty-five years ago.

She linked her arm in his and started through the clutter of guests, all smiles and nods. “Your wife isn’t coming?” Lydia asked, trying to sound casual and yet be heard by those standing near.

“You knew she wouldn’t,” he answered in a normal voice, not caring who was listening. “She is much too smart to try and embarrass you at your own party with all your friends gathered around you.” He smiled. “I am not supposed to be here either.”

“Why not? Rightfully, half of all I have is yours, Peter, and the other half I have only because you gave me the idea.”

In a quieter voice he said, “I will never file claim to anything of yours, except you yourself, Lydia.” She didn’t believe him. As much as she loved him, she knew him too well to ever believe him. She had been hurt too much by trusting him. Still, his flattery continued to please her, though she looked up at him disapprovingly.

“Does it still anger you when I speak of how much I love you?” he asked.

“No,” she said meekly. Her heart was pounding in spite of what she was telling it to do.

“Then you don’t hate me anymore?”

“I don’t hate you, Peter.” She never thought she would hear herself say those words. The old scars had practically disappeared and the years had gradually made her see that Peter’s betraying her into the hands of that Manchu prince Ke Loo had been his way of saving her life. Still, though she didn’t hate him, she didn’t trust him either.

She felt the pressure of his hand on her arm. The touch of him disconcerted her as it had always done. She spoke what she was thinking. “I don’t trust you anymore than I ever did, Peter,” she reminded him as she moved slightly away.

He laughed, which didn’t surprise her.

“And if you say you will never file claim to the fifty percent of Empress Cosmetics, why don’t you give me those documents, or at least sell them to me.”

“Maybe I will.”

“You won’t. I know you too well, Peter MacNair. You were always a man who kept an ace in the hole.”

They were interrupted by a guest who wanted to congratulate her and offer her some business. When they were alone again Lydia said, “I never did understand why you didn’t come to me for help when your company was ruined by that lawsuit.”

“Come to you? A woman?” Peter laughed again. “You really don’t know me after all.”

“How is your new company progressing?” What she really wanted to ask was where he’d gotten the money that was financing the new MacNair Products, Incorporated.

“Very well indeed. Naturally, we are not in your league yet. We have nothing to equal Nightsong Perfume. But I haven’t given up hopes of one day developing a scent far superior to Nightsong.”

Lydia smiled. “I wish you luck. It will take a unique fragrance to usurp Nightsong’s position as the most coveted and most expensive perfume in the country—if not the world.”

“Which you only achieved by stealing away my nez.”

“Raymond was never really yours, Peter. You may have found him in Paris, but I know you brought him here solely for the purpose of stealing Nightsong away from me.”

It was true, of course. Peter gave Lydia a sly grin. Lydia had taken the perfume from the Forbidden City but had no way of reproducing it. He’d never learned how she found out about Raymond Andrieux or how he found out about Nightsong and Lydia’s dilemma, but knowing Lydia’s ways, he had a good idea of how she’d seduced Raymond to join her ranks.

“Now you are stuck with him,” Peter said, motioning to where Raymond was standing in a circle of beautiful women.

“I don’t consider myself stuck with him, as you put it. Raymond is a loyal and talented man.”

“Talented, yes, but I wouldn’t lean too heavily on his loyalty if I were you. Given the least provocation, I am certain Monsieur Andrieux would walk out on you in a second and then where would you be, without your precious Nightsong?”

What he said was true, Lydia told herself. There was no way of stockpiling an exotic perfume. Large quantities deteriorated quickly, which was why smaller batches had to be developed and each had to be concocted individually by a nez—a “nose.” Men like Raymond were so called because of their rare talent of being able to smell a scent and tell its composition. They could identify not only the flowers from which the scent was made, but also how many flowers, their variety, even where and when they were grown. This was why Nightsong was so expensive and so much in demand by the women who could afford it. Without Raymond to duplicate the exact scent each time, there would be no Nightsong Perfume.

Defensively Lydia answered, “Nightsong is not the only product I sell. My chemists are constantly coming up with excellent creams and powders and lotions. If Raymond decides to move on, I am sure I will survive without Nightsong.”

“Unless, of course, he decides to go into competition. He could easily reproduce all your products and sell them at a lower price.”

“And I would have him in a law court before he had a chance to dress and shave.”

Peter chuckled. “I’ll let you have your Raymond and your Nightsong,” he said as he took her hand. “All I want is you, Lydia.”

She felt herself go warm all over as their eyes met and held. She recognized still that hard, calculating look that had always made her both weak and wary. “Me and Nightsong,” she said, trying to sound flippant. “And, if I remember correctly, Nightsong always came before me. I may have forgiven you for what you did to me in China, Peter, but you will never convince me that you want me solely for myself.”

“But I do. To hell with Nightsong.” His eyes shifted slightly when he said that. “I have a whole new concept about cosmetic sales,” he said. “I’m putting out a new line and you will never guess what I’m calling it.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Lady Lydia,” he announced.

Lydia’s eyes widened and her pleasant smile disappeared. “Good God, Peter, no.”

“Why not?”

“What will Lorna say? What will everyone say? There has been too much gossip about the Nightsongs as it is, what with me and April and your David.”

A deadness came into his eyes for a second when she mentioned his son’s name.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s all right. David’s death is something I’ve tried to put out of my mind. It was something that happened...that’s all. I’ve stopped blaming myself, or you, or anyone.”

“You blamed me?”

“In the beginning,” he admitted, then quickly added, “I blamed everyone, mostly myself. I tried to stop him. If I’d never told him how you’d acquired Nightsong, he would never have gotten the crazy notion to do the same thing.” He turned away for a moment, afraid she would see how much he hurt. When he turned back he shrugged. “We both must forget David.”

“Then you must not call your new label Lady Lydia. It will just rake up all the old stories.”

“The containers are already in production. Besides, I don’t want to change the name. I think Lady Lydia is an excellent label for a cosmetic line.”

“Lady Lorna would be just as good.”

He smiled sweetly. “Not so far as I am concerned.” After a pause he said, “Anyway, it isn’t going to be an over-the-counter item or even a mail-order item.”

Lydia looked quizzical.

“I intend selling house-to-house, starting in the east.” He grinned. “The way the Bible boys do it, letting the ladies test and decide in the privacy of their own home.”

“An interesting idea, Peter, but I can’t help feeling there is something a bit seedy about it. However, if you had female salespeople—women selling to women—it might be a unique and successful concept.”

“Women selling door-to-door.” He laughed. “You have to be joking. It’s bad enough that some ladies are going into the business world without encouraging them to take sales jobs away from veterans who know their customers and their territories.”

Lydia was not convinced. “Regardless, I still think ladies would be more apt to buy from another lady than from a man.”

He winked and whispered, “Ladies underpinnings are sold by men and their sales are booming.”

Secretly Lydia was pleased Peter did not like her suggestion; she filed it away in the back of her mind, deciding to keep an eye on Peter’s new concept for selling. If it showed any degree of success she’d train ladies to do the same work, knowing it would be a greater success.

“I’m sinking all my capital into the project,” Peter admitted.

“I’d make some tests first.”

“You always were too cautious.”

“And you always too reckless.”

“I suppose that is what attracts us to each other. Opposites and all that.” He looked lovingly down into her beautiful face. He took a step nearer and put his lips close to her ear. “Right now I’d like to tear every stitch of clothing from your gorgeous body and have you right here on the floor in front of everyone.”

Lydia’s cheeks flamed as she put her hand against his chest and averted her face. “Peter,” she breathed.

“I don’t give a damn who sees us. I want you more than I want my own life.”

“Don’t, Peter.” Her heart was fluttering and the heat in the lower part of her body was building.

“And you want me. I know you do,” he accused.

“Peter, no,” she breathed, not trusting her voice. But she was not speaking the truth. She wanted to feel the hard nakedness of him overpowering her, pressing heavily atop her own vulnerability. She wanted to writhe and twist and moan under his onslaught. Only too easily did she recall how he’d entered her, made her seethe with desire and wanton passion as he took her forcefully, manfully, pounding into her unmercifully, knowing her need matched his own.

“Lydia,” he sighed. “Isn’t there somewhere we can be alone? It’s been too long,” he reminded her.

“You mustn’t talk like this, Peter. People are looking at us.”

“Let them.” He reached for her hand but she snatched it away. “I adore you. And I promise that as soon as MacNair Cosmetics is completely on its feet again I intend divorcing Lorna so we can marry.”

“Divorce! Oh, Peter, no. You can’t. I’ve just finished reminding you of all the scandal we’ve already caused. My quiet, legal dissolution of my Chinese marriage, discreetly as it was handled, is still gossiped about in some circles. You know how everyone feels about out-and-out divorce. It would ruin not only our reputations but our businesses as well. There is too much working against me now, Peter. I’d never permit you to divorce Lorna for my sake.”

He looked crestfallen. “You don’t love me anymore, is that what you are trying to say?”

“I will not be named co-respondent in any divorce action,” she said, avoiding his question. “Your wife despises me as it is. I wouldn’t want your children to despise me as well.” She saw his hurt. “Dear Peter. I am more than flattered that you’d even consider such a drastic notion. However, if you won’t be sensible then I must be.”

Peter’s broad shoulders sagged. “You make it all seem so hopeless.”

“Let us allow things to go on the way they are, Peter. Time has a way of solving even the worst of situations.”

She noticed the sensual curve of his lips as he smiled gently. A passionate glint lit his expression. “On one condition,” he said.

“And what is that?” She knew what he would ask and only stood there trembling with anticipation.

“I must have you tonight. I must,” he said urgently.

“Yes,” she breathed. She glanced around. “I’ve been neglecting my guests. Stay late, Peter. You can drive me home.” She gave his hand a little squeeze and moved off across the room. She caught Raymond’s eye and motioned him to her. “I believe it’s time we cut the cake.”

She could feel Peter watching her. All she wanted was for the party to be over so she could be in his arms.