many of Cecil’s friends are already here.”
“I am not a debutante,” he pointed out sardonically.
“No one’s going to mistake you for a debutante,” Caroline said wryly, “but some of these women are going to look at you like you’re a divinely dark and handsome bonbon.”
He reached for her arm to draw her out of the chair. “Some other time.”
Caroline pressed back farther into the chair and firmly shook her head. “This is the best time and the best way. Go with Olivia now. Please, do it for me—” she urged when he still looked unwilling. “After tonight, Billy and I will be able to go places with you without my having to worry that people will think I’ve already replaced William with a boyfriend.”
“Fifteen minutes,” Mitchell agreed impatiently, then he gave Olivia his arm, and she took it.
Chapter Three
A T THE ENTRY TO THE LIVING ROOM , O LIVIA PAUSED, ALLOWING him to take a good long look at the elegant socialites who were there, while she provided him with tidbits of information about their lofty pedigrees and important achievements. “The gentleman who Cecil just spoke to is the grandson of the founder of Universal Rubber. He’s going to run for senator, and we all think he’ll be president someday. The attractive brunette with him—the one who is looking in our direction right now—is his wife.”
Mitchell let her go on, but he knew at a glance who these people were and
what
they were: self-important, pompous men who believed “good breeding” set them above all others; self-indulgent, vain women who were bored with their lives and their men, and who entertained themselves with charity work and torrid little affairs. The scene in this room wasn’t new to Mitchell at all, except that it lacked the international flair and diversity he was accustomed to. Other than that, this was simply a miniature, and somewhat provincial, scene from his own life.
“The gentleman in the dark gray suit and maroon tie is Gray Elliott,” Olivia confided. “Gray is from a fine old Chicago family, and he is the youngest person ever elected to the office of Cook County state’s attorney. He’s already proving his mettle and making a very big name for himself. In front of Gray is Evan Bartlett and his father, Henry. The Bartletts have handled legal affairs forthe Wyatts for as far back as I can remember—longer than that, for generations.”
Mitchell looked at the elder Bartlett and assumed Henry must have handled the messy details surrounding his birth—the falsified birth certificate, the terms of the divorce, the payoff to his mother.
“… young Evan is a brilliant attorney,” Olivia chattered enthusiastically, “who is already taking over the reins from Henry—”
Young Evan
, Mitchell thought drily,
will be going through old files tomorrow after his father tells him what he remembers about Mitchell Wyatt
.
Olivia paused to scrutinize Mitchell’s features and assess how he was reacting. “Are you bored already?” she asked, looking crestfallen.
Mitchell was worse than bored, but she was so transparently eager to impress him and make him want to be a part of all this that he found himself saying, “Not at all.”
She looked doubtful. “Are you planning to leave us soon?” she asked bluntly.
“Yes, in two weeks.”
She averted her face instantly, her hand clutching fiercely at his arm while a tremor seemed to shake her entire body. Mitchell automatically slid his arm around her back to brace her and looked for the closest chair. “You’re ill—” he began, but the episode passed as swiftly as it had occurred.
“I am rarely ill,” she replied stiffly, “and if I were going to be ill, I assure you, I would never let it happen in front of company!” To prove it, she lifted her face and looked at him with proud defiance and a sheen of tears in her faded amber eyes.
Mitchell’s jaw tightened at the sight of those tears. He rejected her
right
to feel dismay over his
Learning to Kill: Stories