Page 24 of Second Time Around
Chapter 6
“All right, we’ve done our duty. Let’s head for the stables.” Will steered Kyra past a tipsy older gentleman with a smile and a nod. “I saw Schuyler head in that direction about half an hour ago.”
“I won’t argue with you.” Kyra had run out of pleasant things to say to all these people with whom she had nothing in common. Although she had to give them credit: No one had been overt about the fact that she didn’t belong. Will’s golden aura had surrounded her so they didn’t dare question her presence. But she was tired of small talk, tired of seeing the dresses and jewelry and shoes that cost more than she made in a month, tired of trying to remember names for long enough to bid their owners farewell with a personal touch. It reminded her too much of her job at Stratus.
On the other hand, she’d loved watching Will in his natural habitat. The bone-deep confidence with which he carried himself was on display as guest after guest claimed his attention. He would bend his elegant head toward the women for a kiss on the cheek. The men he greeted with a straightforward gaze and a firm, heartfelt handshake. No matter what gender, everyone lit up when he focused his attention on them. She found herself memorizing some of his turns of phrase that said nothing but sounded meaningful. She could use them on customers.
“You’ve been a trooper.” Will put his arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze as they wove through the guests. The strength of his grasp and the solidity of his body against her side made her want to lean into him, just to rest. But that way lay danger.
“It’s been fun.” She smiled as Will gave her a skeptical look. “Really. It’s like a field study: the plumage and flocking habits of the Connecticut crested upper class.”
Will choked on a laugh. “That’s the kind of comment that’s kept me sane today. Thank you again for coming.”
“Will! Wait!” A woman’s voice called from behind them.
Will went so rigid that he seemed made of stone, the arm around Kyra’s waist like a weight. Every angle of his face sharpened and hardened. “Don’t turn around,” he said through gritted teeth. His grip on her tightened, and he propelled her through the crowd in the opposite direction.
“Petra, that’s not a good idea.” Farr’s voice was lower in volume but still distinct.
It took every ounce of Kyra’s willpower not to angle her head around to see what Will’s ex-fiancée looked like.
“But he’s leaving and I want to meet his date.” Petra’s voice held a hint of petulance.
“They’re just going to see Schuyler at the stables.” Farr’s voice was receding as Will lengthened his already ground-eating stride. “They’ll be back.”
Will muttered a curse under his breath before he said, “Farr is going to expect a big favor in exchange for running interference.”
“I don’t think he’ll expect anything other than a thank-you.”
Will gave a mirthless laugh. “You don’t know much about investment bankers, even friendly ones.” He changed direction to approach one of the bars, saying, “Let’s take some supplies to the stables.”
He handed her three empty crystal flutes. “In case Schuyler didn’t think ahead,” he said before grabbing an unopened bottle of champagne from a tub of ice behind the bar.
Will had been drinking scotch most of the afternoon, so Kyra was relieved that he was switching to lighter stuff, especially since the near miss with his ex-fiancée would certainly justify a more powerful anesthetic. She couldn’t say he was drunk. His balance was firm; his speech clear. However, as the afternoon progressed, he had become less careful in what he said to the other guests. He was never rude, but he slid in a barb every now and then, although the guests never realized it. A few times she’d had to cough to cover up the giggle that threatened. Because Will was very clever.
“Will!” A man’s voice broke through the chatter.
“It just keeps getting better,” Will ground out in an angry mutter, and Kyra turned to see Twain Chase approaching them.
The older man cast a glance at the glasses in Kyra’s hand and raised an eyebrow before turning to his son. “It’s impossible to hold a conversation for more than five minutes in this horde,” Twain said. “Your mother and I hope you’ll stay after the party for a family dinner.”
“Kyra needs to get back to the city,” Will said. “Next time.”
Somehow she found the presence of mind to smile and nod, even though she had no pressing engagement awaiting her at home. At the same time, she tried to locate Farr and Petra among the swirling crowd without appearing to do so. It might be her only chance to find out what sort of woman had induced Will to propose.
“It would mean a lot to your mum if you’d give us an hour,” Twain said, but the truth sounded in his voice: a pleading undercurrent that meant he was the one who wanted to spend time with his son. He offered Kyra an apologetic smile. “I don’t mean to upset your schedule.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, trying to give Will a chance to change his mind if he wanted to. She gave up on her surreptitious search for Petra and focused on the two men facing off, the proud angle of their chins and the unyielding set of their shoulders so strikingly similar.
“We’ll see what we can finagle,” Will said, but Kyra heard the refusal in his voice.
“I’d appreciate it, son.”
Kyra caught the flash of disappointment in Twain’s gray eyes. As he walked away, his movements seemed slow and tired.
“I can stay,” Kyra said when she was sure Twain was out of earshot. “Your dad really wants you here.”
Will ignored her offer. “I’ve had enough of this party.” He caught her hand and towed her away from the guests, his brisk gait forcing her to trot alongside him. She’d never seen his usually impeccable manners desert him to the point that he forgot to be solicitous of her shorter legs. It was a measure of how upset he was by the conversation with his father and the near encounter with Petra. Farr said Will felt responsible for her, but maybe he was still in love with her even though he had broken off the engagement.
