Sex and Vanity(9)

“Actually, I think she was trying to be nice—it just came out in a peculiar way,” Lucie interjected.

“Peculiar is an understatement! She was trying much too hard, and I can’t figure out what her angle is,” Charlotte said.

“What if there was no angle? I think, coming from New York, you have a natural instinct to look for a motive in everything … I do the same thing myself,” Auden offered. “Having gotten to know Mrs. Zao, I think her offer was likely made in a pure spirit. She’s only known me for a few days, but she’s already invited me to do a workshop in Hong Kong and even told me she’d arrange the space to host it and invite all her friends. And yesterday, she spontaneously ordered pineapple and coconut sorbets for everyone lying around the pool. I thought it was a lovely gesture.”

Charlotte let out a deep sigh. “Well, I guess I’ve made a mistake. You think I’ve been too suspicious and judgmental?”

“Charlotte, Auden’s not saying that …,” Lucie began.

“Not at all,” Auden insisted.

“Yes, I’m afraid my weakness is that I’m too uptight and proper. I believe too much in decorum. Everyone says it.”

Lucie wanted to roll her eyes but kept herself in check. She knew this game of her cousin’s all too well—Charlotte was the queen of guilt trips, and now she was looking her straight in the eye. “Lucie, everything I do, I do with the best of intentions. I’m here out of your generosity, and my only interest is in safeguarding your good name.”

“My good name? You sound as if we’re living in the Edwardian age!” Lucie laughed.

“Lucie, you are a Churchill, don’t ever forget that. Your name and standing are everything, and wherever you go, you are representing the family.”

There it was, the “family” reminder that Charlotte never failed to invoke. Charlotte was inordinately proud of their storied roots—all that lore about being Mayflower descendants who married into one of Britain’s most aristocratic families and kept the roof over their castle repaired thanks to their great-great-great-grandfather’s Wall Street fortune. Lucie tried to brush it off, but then she realized Charlotte was still going on about it.

“Your mother specifically wanted me to look out for you, but maybe I’ve been too overzealous in my attempts to protect you. Would you like me to obligate you to these strangers? Would you like me to see if the Zaos want to be turned out of their rooms?”

Lucie sighed in resignation. “No, I wouldn’t want you to do that.”

Auden observed the stalemate between the two cousins and decided to make an offer. “Ladies, might I make a suggestion? Since I know the Zaos a bit better, I am happy to act as your intermediary. I’ll see if they are truly willing to trade their rooms, and if the offer still stands, I will make sure they aren’t going to be inconvenienced.”

“Well, apart from that, I do want to be sure there are no expectations implicit in their offer,” Charlotte said.

Auden paused for a split second, catching her drift. “Yes, yes, of course. And if the Zaos have changed their minds, I can promise you there will be no awkwardness.”

Charlotte gave Lucie a circumspect look before turning to the man. “Auden, you are a godsend!”





CHAPTER FOUR


The Gardens of Augustus



Capri, Italy


The Gardens of Augustus were once part of the estate of the German munitions heir Friedrich Alfred Krupp, who created a series of expansive terraces perched high on a cliff that afforded incredible views of the island and the sea. Here, pathways lined with lush beds of pink geraniums and dahlias wound around towering Italian cypresses on meticulously manicured lawns.

Arriving at the garden gates, Charlotte whispered urgently to Lucie, “Are we at the wrong party?”

“I don’t think so,” Lucie said, glancing again at the invitation on her phone as they joined the clusters of guests lining up to enter the park.

Charlotte surveyed the assembled group of men and women dressed as though they had been invited to cocktails at Buckingham Palace. “You said tonight was going to be casual!”

“I swear that’s what the invitation says. Welcome cocktails. Informal,” Lucie insisted.

“Well, everyone here is obviously illiterate. On what planet is this considered ‘informal’?” Charlotte grumbled as she eyed the lady ahead of them in a pearl-gray cocktail dress, her ruby-and-diamond pendant drop earrings sparkling in the late-afternoon sun. Charlotte was wearing her favorite sleeveless navy linen dress from Max Mara, which she thought she had smartened up with a brown pashmina embroidered with blue flowers draped around her shoulders, but among this crowd she might as well be dressed for the farmers’ market. Lucie at least looked dressier in her calf-length ice-blue Stella McCartney dress, and she had the advantages of her improbably photogenic features and youth.

“Lucie, no one has seen us yet. Should we rush back to the hotel and change?”

“I think it’s too late for that. Look up, Charlotte!”

Charlotte raised her head and saw a drone hovering right above them. “Jesus Christ! Are we under surveillance?”

“No, it’s Issie’s film team. She told me there were going to be drones documenting every moment of the weekend. Now that we’ve been caught on video, it’s going to look really silly if we come back in ten minutes wearing different outfits,” Lucie said.