Page 51 of Gabriel's Angel

“My new daughter.” Cliff gave Laura a quick squeeze around the shoulders. “An old friend, Marion Trussalt. The Trussalt Gallery handles Gabe’s paintings.”

“Yes, I know. It’s nice to meet you.” She wasn’t a beautiful woman, Laura thought, but she was oddly striking, with her sleek cap of black hair and her dark eyes. She wore a flowing rainbow-colored sheath that managed to be both arty and sophisticated.

“Yes, it is, since we have Gabe in common.” Marion tapped a finger on the rim of her glass and smiled, but her eyes didn’t warm. Laura recognized carefully polished disdain when she saw it. “You have his heart, and I his soul, you might say.”

“Then it would seem we both want the best for him.”

“Oh.” Marion raised her glass. “Absolutely. Cliff, Amanda told me to remind you that hosts are supposed to mingle.”

He grimaced. “Slave driver. Laura, be sure to work your way over to the buffet. You’re getting too thin already.” With that he went to do his duty.

“Yes, you’re amazingly slender for someone who had a child—what was it? A month ago?”

“Almost two.” Laura shifted her glass of sparkling water to her other hand. She didn’t deal well with subtle attacks.

“Time flies.” Marion touched her tongue to her upper lip. “It’s odd that in all that time you haven’t stirred yourself to come down to the gallery.”

“You’re right. I’ll have to come down and see Gabe’s work in a proper setting.” She steadied herself. Under no circumstances was she going to allow herself to be intimidated or to fall into the trap of reading between the lines. If Gabe had ever had any kind of romantic involvement with Marion, it had ended. “He relies on you, I know. And I hope you’ll be able to persuade him to go through with a new showing.”

“I haven’t decided that’s really a good idea for the time being.” Marion turned to smile at someone across the room who had called her name.

“Why? The paintings are wonderful.”

“That isn’t the only issue.” She turned back to give Laura a quick, glittering look. She hadn’t been Gabe’s lover, nor had there ever been any urge on either side to make it so. Her feelings for Gabriel Bradley went far beyond the physical. Gabe was an artist, a great one, and she had been—and intended to go on being—the catalyst for his success.

If he had married within his circle, or chosen someone who could have enhanced or furthered his career, she would have been pleased. But for him to have wasted himself, and her ambitions, on a beautiful face and a smeared reputation was more than Marion could bear.

“Did I mention that I knew your first husband?”

If she had thrown her drink into Laura’s face she would have been no less shocked. The cocoon that she had been able to draw around herself and Michael suffered its first crack.

“No. If you’ll excuse me—”

“A fascinating man, I always thought. Certainly young, and a bit wild, but fascinating. A tragedy that he died so young, before he ever saw his child.” She tilted her glass back until only a sheen of bubbles remained.

“Michael,” Laura said evenly, “is Gabe’s child.”

“So I’m told.” She smiled again. “There were the oddest rumors just before and just after Tony died. Some said that he was on the verge of divorcing you, that he’d already removed you from the family home because you were, well, indiscreet.” With a shrug, Marion set her glass aside. “But that’s all in the past now. Tell me, how are the Eagletons? I haven’t spoke with Lorraine for ages.”

She was going to be ill, violently and humiliatingly ill, unless she succeeded in fighting back her rolling nausea. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “Why should you care?”

“Oh, my dear, I care about anything that has to do with Gabe. I intend to see him reach the very top, and I don’t intend to watch him be dragged down. That’s a lovely dress,” she added. Then she saw Amanda approaching and slipped away.

“Laura, are you all right? You’re white as a sheet. Come, let me find you a chair.”

“No, I need some air.” Turning, she fled through the open glass doors and onto the smooth stone terrace beyond.

“Here, now.” Coming up behind her, Amanda took her arm and steered her to a chair. “Sit a minute before Gabe comes along. He’ll take one look at you and pounce on me for insisting you come out and socialize too soon.”

“It’s nothing to do with that.”

“And something to do with Marion.” Amanda took the water glass out of Laura’s tightening grip. “If she led you to believe that there was something—personal—between herself and Gabe, I can only say its totally untrue.”

“That wouldn’t matter.”

With a little laugh, Amanda cast a look back inside. “If you mean that, then you’re a better woman than I. I’ve known one of my husband’s former... interests for over thirty-five years. I’d still like to spit in her eye.”

With a laugh of her own, Laura drew in the softly scented evening. “I know Gabe’s faithful to me.”

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