Tony rose. "That's quite all right." His tone was rude. He disliked having his sanctuary invaded. "Were you looking for something?'
"No. I - I was just wandering around. Your collection of paintings belongs in a museum."
"Except for these," Tony heard himself saying.
She was puzzled by the hostility in his voice. She turned to look at the paintings again. She saw the signature. "You painted these?"
"I'm sorry if they don't appeal to you."
"They're fantastic!" She moved toward him. "I don't understand. If you can do this, why would you ever want to do anything else? You're wonderful. I don't mean you're good. I mean you're wonderful."
Tony stood there, not listening, just wanting her to get out.
"I wanted to be a painter," Marianne said. "I studied with Oskar Kokoschka for a year. I finally quit because I knew I never could be as good as I wanted to be. But you!" She turned to the paintings again. "Did you study in Paris?"
He wished she would leave him alone. "Yes."
"And you quit - just like that?"
"Yes."
"What a pity. You - "
"There you are!"
They both turned. Kate was standing in the doorway. She eyed the two of them a moment, then walked over to Marianne. "I've been looking everywhere for you, Marianne. Your father mentioned that you like orchids. You must see our greenhouse."
"Thank you," Marianne murmured. "I'm really - "
Kate turned to Tony. "Tony, perhaps you should see to your other guests." There was a note of sharp displeasure in her voice.
She took Marianne's arm, and they were gone.
There was a fascination to watching his mother maneuver people. It was done so smoothly. Not a move was wasted. It had started with the Wyatts arriving early and the Hoffmans arriving late. Lucy being placed next to him at every meal. The private conferences with Charlie Wyatt. It was so damned obvious, and yet Tony had to admit to himself that it was obvious only because he had the key. He knew his mother and the way her mind worked. Lucy Wyatt was a lovely girl. She would make a wonderful wife for someone, but not for him. Not with Kate Black-well as her sponsor. His mother was a ruthless, calculating bitch, and as long as Tony remembered that, he was safe from her machinations. He wondered what her next move would be.
He did not have to wait long to find out.
They were on the terrace having cocktails. "Mr. Wyatt has been kind enough to invite us to his ranch next weekend," Kate told Tony. "Isn't that lovely?" Her face radiated her pleasure. "I've never seen a Texas ranch."
Kruger-Brent owned a ranch in Texas, and it was probably twice as big as the Wyatt spread.
"You will come, won't you, Tony?" Charlie Wyatt asked.
Lucy said, "Please do."
They were ganging up on him. It was a challenge. He decided to accept it. "I'd be d-delighted."
"Good." There was real pleasure on Lucy's face. And on Kate's.
If Lucy is planning to seduce me, Tony thought, she is wasting her time. The hurt done to Tony by his mother and Dominique had implanted in him such a deep distrust of females that his only association with them now was with high-priced call girls. Of all the female species, they were the most honest. All they wanted was money and told you how much up front. You paid for what you got, and you got what you paid for. No complications, no tears, no deceit.
Lucy Wyatt was in for a surprise.
Early Sunday morning, Tony went down to the pool for a swim. Marianne Hoffman was already in the water, wearing a white maillot. She had a lovely figure, tall and slender and graceful. Tony stood there watching her cutting cleanly through the water, her arms flashing up and down in a regular, graceful rhythm. She saw Tony and swam over to him.
"Good morning."
"Morning. You're good," Tony said.
Marianne smiled. "I love sports. I get that from my father." She pulled herself up to the edge of the pool, and Tony handed her a towel. He watched as she unselfconsciously dried her hair.
"Have you had breakfast?" Tony asked.
"No. I wasn't sure the cook would be up this early."
"This is a hotel. There's twenty-four-hour service."
She smiled up at him. "Nice."
"Where is your home?"
"Mostly in Munich. We live in an old schloss - a castle - outside the city."
"Where were you brought up?"
Marianne sighed. "That's a long story. During the war, I was sent away to school in Switzerland. After that, I went to Oxford, studied at the Sorbonne and lived in London for a few years." She looked directly into his eyes. "That's where I've been. Where have you been?"
"Oh, New York, Maine, Switzerland, South Africa, a few years in the South Pacific during the war, Paris..." He broke off abruptly, as though he were saying too much.
"Forgive me if I seem to pry, but I can't imagine why you stopped painting."
"It's not important," Tony said curtly. "Let's have breakfast."
They ate alone on the terrace overlooking the sparkling sweep of the bay. She was easy to talk to. There was a dignity about her, a gentleness that Tony found appealing. She did not flirt, she did not chatter. She seemed genuinely interested in him. Tony found himself attracted to this quiet, sensitive woman. He could not help wondering how much of that attraction was due to the thought that it would spite his mother.
"When do you go back to Germany?"
"Next week," Marianne replied. "I'm getting married."
Her words caught him off guard. "Oh," Tony said lamely. "That's great. Who is he?"