Breaking the Rules (Harte Family Saga Book 7)

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  James Cardigan stood up as the maître d’ led Geo to his table at “21,” his favorite in the center of the long back wall, facing the entire room. Once she was seated next to him on the banquette, he kissed her cheek, murmured, “Hi, darling,” and then asked, “Where’s M? Isn’t she coming?”

  “Good evening, James, and yes, she’s coming, but straight from Frankie’s studios. She had something to do there late this afternoon. I’m sure she’ll be here fairly soon.”

  He nodded, reached for her hand, squeezed it, and went on softly, “I’m so glad you like your ring.”

  “Oh, I do, I love it!” she exclaimed, lifting her hand onto the table, staring at her engagement ring, an emerald with two diamonds on either side. Then she took hold of his hand again and leaned closer. “I’m so happy, James. I’ve never been happier in my life.”

  “And neither have I,” he answered, meaning it. “What do you want to drink, Georgiana? A glass of champagne?”

  “I’d like that, thanks.”

  After ordering two glasses of champagne from the waiter, James told her, “I spoke to my mother today and confirmed that we would spend Christmas in England with her and Dad. Naturally she was thrilled. And I’m sure he is, too. Obviously, they can’t wait to meet you, their future daughter-in-law.”

  Geo smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. She felt a rush of warmth spreading through her, a lovely glow she hadn’t experienced in years. And it was all to do with James. There were moments when she couldn’t believe her luck, that they had fallen madly in love and wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. The timing had been just right for them both. Although she had vaguely known him for well over a year, it was only at Iris Ingersoll’s party for Dax that they had actually clicked. Luck indeed, she thought, my very good luck.

  James said, “I spoke to Matt Branden this afternoon, and seemingly Larry is doing very well at Silver Hill, thank goodness. Has M said anything to you?”

  “The same . . . that he’s feeling better, and very much likes the psychiatrist who’s working with him. And that he is adamant about her not going to New Canaan to see him. Don’t you think that’s a bit strange, James?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all, darling. If I were in his position, I’d want to battle it through by myself. I’d want to concentrate on getting my head straight, without any feminine distractions.”

  She laughed. “I’m glad you think of me as a feminine distraction—”

  “And a very beautiful and talented one, I might add.”

  “Thank you.” She touched his arm. “There’s M. In the doorway.”

  “I see her.” James pushed the table out and stood up. He greeted M warmly as she came to the table and ushered her onto the banquette next to Geo, taking the outside chair for himself.

  “Sorry to be late,” M apologized once they were all settled. “But I had this meeting with Luke and Kate Morrell, and I thought it would never end.”

  “No problem. What would you like to drink?” James asked as he motioned to a waiter.

  “The same as you, a glass of champagne,” M replied, and when she turned to greet Geo, she noticed the emerald ring. “Oh, Geo, oh my God! You and James got engaged, didn’t you?”

  Smiling and nodding, Geo said, “Yes, last night. James gave me the ring last night.”

  “Congratulations, Geo, and you, too, James. Thank goodness I won’t have to kill her now.”

  Geo was baffled for a moment, looked quizzically from M to James.

  It was James who explained. “When I asked M if she thought you’d accept an old reprobate like me, she said if you didn’t she’d kill you.”

  They all laughed, and M asked, “When are you getting married?”

  “Not sure yet, but we’re going to England for Christmas,” James confided. “Geo thought it would be nice if we came to Paris to see you after the holidays. What do you think about that?”

  “I think it sounds wonderful! And again, I’m so happy you two got together.” Turning to Geo, she went on, “Just think, if we hadn’t gone to that party for Dax, you wouldn’t have run into James again, and I wouldn’t have met Larry.”

  “Too true, and perhaps that’s an example of the randomness of life,” Geo announced, then wondered aloud, “Life is random, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe. But it could be fate. Destiny,” M ventured. “You know, what will be, will be. Que sera, sera.”

  Changing the subject, James focused on M and said, “Matt Branden is really very pleased with Larry’s progress, and he’s confident he’ll be as good as new, if not indeed better than ever, once he’s finished his treatment at Silver Hill.”

  “That’s the way Larry feels,” M remarked. “His attitude is very positive. And I know he was as frightened as I was. Actually, I was terrified he was going to die, and Larry understands I can’t live through anything like that ever again.”

  “Did he ever tell you what went on in Canada?” James probed gently, riddled with curiosity.

  “Yes. It was all to do with his brother Edward,” M said. “There was a lot of backstabbing, and terrible aggravation for Larry, and I’ve told him to stay away from his brother, who wants to do him in.”

  “There’s nothing like sibling rivalry, you know, it’s even been the death of kings,” James reminded her.

  M burst out laughing. “Too true. Many a head has rolled because a brother has coveted the crown.” She eyed James. “And what about you, James? Do you have siblings?”

  “I do indeed. I have a younger brother, and a sister. Thank God we don’t covet anything the other has.”

  When the champagne was placed in front of her, M raised her glass and toasted Geo and James. “Here’s to you two lovebirds. May you have a long and happy marriage, and I hope all your troubles are little ones.”

  This old-fashioned English toast cracked James up, and he grinned, then took a sip of his drink. “And what about you and Larry? Where is your relationship heading?”

  “Probably in the same direction as yours. Eventually,” M replied evasively.

  Twenty-six

  Kate Morrell sat in the auditorium on the top floor of the Jean-Louis Tremont store on Madison Avenue. It was a large, airy room with a catwalk, and the store usually showed their latest collections here. It could hold a hundred people, including the press, on small gold-painted ballroom chairs.

  On this cold November day, a week before Thanksgiving, M was modeling a showstopper for Kate. It was a navy blue silk organza cocktail dress with a lace coat from the new spring-summer collection, and she was commanding the catwalk with great panache.

  Kate was the only person watching as M glided along, swung around, strode out again, and moved with a style all her own.

  Suddenly Kate stood up and walked over to the catwalk.

  M paused, looked down at her. “Is everything all right?”

  “Where did you learn to parade down a catwalk like that?” Kate asked in a soft voice, but her eyes were slightly narrowed. There was an appraising look on her face as she gazed up at M.

  “Nowhere. What I mean is, I didn’t learn, not really.”

  “What do you mean by ‘not really’? Did your sister teach you? Did you model at her boutique? Because in my opinion, you have been on a catwalk before, and you have been trained.”

  Without answering, M hurried along to the stairs, walked down them, and joined Kate. She said quietly, “I did do a bit of modeling for my sister, that’s true, but she didn’t teach me anything. However, my other sister, who’s been to many of the couture shows in Paris, sort of, well, showed me how top models walk. I wasn’t trained, though, honestly, I wasn’t. Besides, who would train me?”

  “That’s what I’m wondering,” Kate said and then laughed lightly, not wanting to antagonize this young woman, whom she considered their biggest find in years. Jean-Louis had needed a boost for some time now, and M would be that boost, she was convinced about that. Not only was the girl beautiful but she had a unique s
tyle, a wonderful way of handling herself, and she moved like a dream. Moved like a professionally trained high-fashion model who’d been at it for years. And that was why Kate was skeptical about her story. But why did it matter? It didn’t even matter who she was or where she came from. What mattered was that she was under contract to them. And she was dating a famous man. A good-looking actor who was also a movie star. That would help them when it came to publicity. A dream couple, Kate thought, and made a mental note to play this up with the press.

  “I can only add this,” Kate now said, taking hold of M’s arm and walking with her to the dressing rooms at the other end of the auditorium. “Jean-Louis will be even more thrilled when I tell him how great you are on the catwalk. He wanted me to check that out now, just in case you needed guidance when you arrived in Paris. But obviously you don’t. Time saved. Oh, and by the way, when are you planning to go to Paris, M?”

  “In the middle of December . . . about a month from today.”

  “Is Laurence Vaughan coming with you?”

  The mention of Larry’s name startled M for a moment, and she wondered how Kate knew she was involved with him, then realized at once that Luke would have told her. “Yes, Kate, Larry’s coming to Paris with me,” M finally answered. “We want to be together for Christmas, and also he’s going to start shooting a movie there in early March.”

  “Oh, how wonderful that you can be together!” Kate exclaimed, genuinely meaning this. She liked M and wanted only the best for her, personally as well as professionally.

  “He’s away at the moment, otherwise I would have introduced him to you,” M thought to add. Clearing her throat, she said slowly, “Do you think Glenda Bailey is going to agree to use me on the April cover of Harper’s Bazaar?”

  “Yes, I do. With one proviso. She will have to be impressed by the photograph of you in the wedding gown. But I’m sure that Luke will pull out all the stops, and that the picture will be great. If the plan works, it’ll be quite a coup for us, you know.”

  “I realize that. When will the dress arrive from Paris?”

  “Claude Allard, one of Jean-Louis’s dressers, will be bringing it in this coming Monday. It’s currently getting the finishing touches from Jean-Louis. Claude’s sister lives in New York, and she’s coming for Thanksgiving. With the dress. Luke will do the shoot the first week of December, otherwise it’ll be too late.”

  “Because of the magazine’s three-month lead time, I guess,” M said in response and wished she hadn’t opened her mouth when Kate threw her the oddest look.

  Quickly changing the subject, M continued, “I’m so glad you were able to find the right lawyer for Caresse, Kate. I’m happy that she, Alex, and Luke will become partners in the studios. It’s so much better, more profitable, for them to run it themselves.”

  “It was smart of you to suggest it,” Kate remarked, wondering yet again who on earth M was. She seemed to have a handle on a lot of things. And how the hell did she know about magazine lead times? It doesn’t matter, Kate reminded herself. I’m going to make her into a star. She’ll be the greatest supermodel of all time. That’s all that counts.

  M was well aware that Kate Morrell wanted to promote her as their discovery, the girl from nowhere who’d never been trained. Their creation. The girl they had turned into the world’s latest supermodel. That was why Kate was always probing, wanting to know about her past, her beginnings in the business. It was transparent. Basically Kate was anxious to know whether M had ever modeled clothes for anyone else. Obviously Kate didn’t want to have egg on her face if others came forward to claim that the mysterious M had once worked for them, and that they had turned her into what she was today.

  She hadn’t been a model before, she had told Kate the truth about that, and M didn’t mind the questions because she had nothing to hide on that score. She was a novice. Nor did Kate’s publicity plans trouble her. She would take everything in her stride, do everything that was asked of her, within reason, to become the New Face of Jean-Louis Tremont. She would make herself accessible. And she would be professional. Her brother had always emphasized this to her: “Be a true professional, that’s all I ask,” he had said to her before she left for New York.

  Now, as she went up the front steps of the brownstone and let herself into the house, M smiled, thinking of the woman who had trained her, taught her the little bit she knew about modeling. Her elder sister, the firstborn. The one who was known as the most beautiful woman in England, if not the world. And she was indeed gorgeous, a dreamlike creature of whom M had been in awe most of her life. It was she who had demonstrated the model’s way of walking, the swift swinging around, the strutting really, and the mannerisms.

  Her elder sister had been very strict and tough with her, and M had rebelled one day, exclaimed, “You’re too bossy, you’re becoming another Napoleon! No, better still, another Bismarck. Yes, that’s it, getting lessons from you is like going on German war maneuvers. Hey, that’s funny, isn’t it?” M had said, and they had howled with laughter, fallen about, making silly faces for a few minutes. After several more lessons, M had been informed she had graduated, and her sister had left her to her own devices, told her to do her own thing now.

  After taking off her coat, M went into the kitchen. The little chandelier over the table was turned on as usual, but the house was empty. M knew that Geo and James had gone to the theater, to see Dax’s performance again, and were taking him to dinner afterward. A Streetcar Named Desire, the play by Tennessee Williams, which he was starring in, had been a limited run, and it would close immediately after Thanksgiving. They had wanted her to go with them, but she didn’t feel up to it, still far too preoccupied with Larry, their upcoming marriage, and their move to Paris. Anyway, she had a lunch date with Dax next week. To celebrate. He’d been offered a film and was thrilled.

  After putting the kettle on, she wandered into Geo’s studio, glanced at the pictures lined up against the walls. What an accomplishment, M thought as she strolled around, gazing at the paintings. Geo had finished quite a lot of them, but apparently not enough. The gallery in Chelsea where her paintings were to be shown had asked for more, and the show was now going to be much later. Next year, in fact. One thing was certain, though, Geo’s talent was amazing. The piercing whistle of the kettle cut into her reverie, brought her back into the kitchen. M made a pot of tea, then went up to her room.

  She pulled the suitcase out from under the bed, unlocked it, and took out her small briefcase. Groping around inside it, she found the Harry Winston box, opened it, and admired her engagement ring for a second, then put it back. She took the envelope of traveler’s checks out, slipped five hundred dollars into it, and returned this to the briefcase as well. M was determined to replace the thousand dollars she had used to pay James so that she could give Birdie all the traveler’s checks back when she next saw her. The money had been a “safety net,” according to her sister, but she hadn’t needed it. She had made it on her own.

  Sliding the suitcase under the bed, M ran downstairs, poured a cup of tea, and sat down at the table, thinking about Larry. She had missed him terribly and was glad he would be leaving Silver Hill early next week. They were going to spend Thanksgiving here at the house with Geo and James, and she and Geo were going to cook. Suddenly she jumped up, went to the small set of bookshelves at the end of the room, and found the big American cookbook Geo swore by. Taking it to the table, she started to look at recipes. M found cooking very therapeutic and was looking forward to making a sumptuous meal for her darling Larry and their friends. And the following day she planned to move to the apartment in Beekman Place.

  There was something extremely likable about James Cardigan, Larry thought, watching his fellow Englishman opening a bottle of champagne at the far end of the kitchen.

  Larry sat on a tall stool at the long counter, and it was a great vantage point. What he liked about James was his open, straightforward manner, and his politeness despite his frank way of speak
ing. James was genial, a genuinely nice chap, and Larry had trouble imagining him as a spy. Yet M disagreed and had said she’d smelled “cop” on him the moment they met at Iris’s party.

  Larry swung his head, focused on the center of the kitchen. There she was, his lovely girl, her black hair in a ponytail. She was wrapped in a big white apron, cooking like the expert chef she was, one of her talents he had discovered. Geo, her abundant blond hair piled on top of her head, was standing alongside M, making the gravy and keeping an eye on the cranberry sauce on the stove. The smells floating around him made his mouth water. He knew he and James were going to be treated to a very special Thanksgiving dinner.

  “Here you are,” James said a moment later, bringing him a silver tankard of champagne. “I like Geo’s idea of serving the bubbly in these antique mugs. Somehow they seem to make the stuff taste better.”

  “I know what you mean. A friend of mine does exactly the same thing. It’s the silver, it keeps the champagne cold. However, I’m still on the wagon, James. I learned a lot at Silver Hill.” He rose, took his tankard over to the table at the far end of the kitchen, and returned with another filled with water.

  The two men clinked tankards, and Larry said, “I’m afraid I’ve been a bit remiss, James. I haven’t actually thanked you properly for helping M to look after me when I was out of it. I might well have died if it hadn’t have been for you.”

  “That young woman cooking her heart out over there wouldn’t have let such a catastrophe happen, I can assure you of that, Larry. She was being very protective of you, in every way. She’s quite remarkable . . . but then you know that.”

  “I do, yes. I’ve never met anyone like her before. She’s absolutely unique.”

  “M told us the other night that you’re going to do a film in the new year, and that it’s shooting in Paris. Nice and convenient, eh?”

  “It is indeed. I couldn’t be happier, and I love this. It’s the best I’ve read in a long time.”