Bright Young Things Read Online Free PDF Page A

draped her arms around the older woman‧s neck, happily receiving a kiss at the hairline. “Only, sit down and don‧t be in my way. There‧s coffee on the stove.”
    Astrid winked at her new friend. He was fussing with his belt and lingering on the margins of the kitchen. No doubt he felt a little funny being her guest there, since he himself was more or less the help, too. She poured them each a cup of coffee in delicate china cups and beckoned for him to come sit next to her on the high stools at the worktable in the center of the kitchen, so that they could watch as Cook scrambled their eggs.
    He took a tentative sip and glanced at her as though he were unsure whether or not it was his place to speak.
    “You work at the club, you said?” He smelled like cut grass and sweat, and sitting so close to him gave her a pleasant, easy feeling.
    He nodded. “Training the horses.”
    “I never have time for that kind of thing anymore,” she replied with a careless wave of her hand. “But maybe I should take it up again, now I know you‧re there.” She rested her elbows on the table and leaned toward him, pausing long enough that his dark eyes were forced to meet hers. “Would you help me?”
    He nodded, but was prevented from replying by the cook noisily putting two bowls in front of them. Into each she shoveled a pile of scrambled eggs, topping them with a slab of bacon.
    “Thank you,” he said to the cook, with a sincere bob of his head.
    “Yes, thank you,” said Astrid, as she picked up the bacon with her fingers and nibbled thoughtfully at the end. “I remember you now,” she mused, forgetting that a moment ago she had pretended to know him for sure. There was something familiar about him, she saw it now: a quiet boy in a plaid flannel jacket who used to lead her pony for her. “There were three of you, weren‧t there?”
    “My older brothers, John and Peter.” His eyes were shining, and she realized that it pleased him to be remembered.
    “And you used to walk my pony Arabella around the corral for me. You and I were the same height then …” A mischievous smile crept onto her lips. “You used to look back at me sometimes,” she whispered sweetly.
    His own smile fell at this, and his face colored. Then she knew that his childhood self had had a crush on her childhood self. She was perfectly aware that the cook was giving her a disapproving look, but she didn‧t care. That was Astrid‧s way—she loved Charlie, of course, but she was an incorrigible flirt, and anyway it was glorious, making a man blush like that.
    “Oh, there you are.”
    The cook‧s eyes darted up first, and then Astrid and Luke glanced over. There, framed in the hall doorway, was her mother, Virginia Donal de Gruyter Marsh, whose strong features conveyed any displeasure that her tone might have left in doubt. Her physical presence was composed of brittle parts, but the overall effect was one of fierceness. It was very generally known that the lady of the house enjoyed a party as much as—and maybe more than—her daughter did, a fact that always made the latter wince.
    Indeed, Astrid‧s mother was in full evening dress now, but it was apparent, especially in the natural light streaming through the large windows, that she was still wearing what she had gone out in the evening before. The quality of her pale skin was dull, and her sleeveless black dress, with the black sash tight at her narrow waist, hung off her in limp, wrinkled tiers. Her hair had surely been done up for whatever fete she had abandoned her husband for last night, but now it sat around her shoulders like weeds. The buckles of her high-heeled shoes, which involved diamonds and emeralds, were the only part of her that shone.
    It was only after several seconds that Astrid realized it was not she, but Luke, her mother had misplaced. “I have been looking everywhere,” Virginia added unnecessarily.
    The exact circumstances under which Luke had met her mother and