The Jane Austen Marriage Manual (21 page)

“Is that what that new word ‘recessionista’ means?” Fawn asked, impressed.

“Not quite. But I
am
staying at the hotel for free,” I admitted.
“This dress?” I held up a gorgeous black Balenciaga cocktail number that was by far the priciest frock in the shop. “They may not give it to me, but they’ll loan it to me to ‘test drive’ for the article.”

“Honey, if you’ve got all this, you don’t need to marry for money,” she said and giggled as I signed for the dress.

“Oh, but I do,” I said seriously. “I’m sick of borrowing my so-called life of luxury. I want to own it. I want to know it’s mine and no one can take it away.”

“My dear,” Fawn said sadly, “none of us ever get that security, not from marriage, and as this recession proves, not from money.”

“I will,” I stated firmly, clutching the Balenciaga tightly to my chest.

T
he Polo Bar was swarming but with a different crowd than had filled the Grill and the disco the previous night. As Fawn and I followed the maître d’ to the table, I saw that the room had been decked out with Cartier banners trumpeting the start of tomorrow’s snow polo tournament—that’s what was different, this was the polo set. The men wore double-breasted jackets, the women wore tasteful dresses, and Latin polo players mingled about, adding an air of sex to the room. I saw from a distance that Scott and Tatiana had already arrived, but for the first time since I’d met them, she wasn’t draped over his body like a pashmina. She sat across from him, a sullen look on her face, sipping champagne as he focused on his BlackBerry. I was suddenly hopeful. After our talk maybe he realized he didn’t need as much admiration as he thought. But as we drew closer to the table I saw that the Polo Bar also had one thing in it I hadn’t expected.

“You certainly get around,” spoke the familiar silky accent.

The Polo Bar had Griff Saunderson.

Fawn and I stopped.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I said tartly. I thought back to my last conversation with Emma and her words, that Griff was a good sort of man, echoed in my mind. I would try yet again to be friendly.

“I guess Palm Beach made a polo fan of you, after all, despite your close encounter with manure?” he said with a half smile.

“I’m here for the skiing,” I answered coolly. He was making friendly a tall order.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a skier,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Why is that?” I asked, dreading his answer.

Before he could answer, Fawn coughed.

“Pardon me, Griffith Saunderson, I’d like you to meet Fawn Chamberlain,” I said, trying to contain my irritation. “He prefers to be called ‘Griff.’ ”

“We met once before,” she cooed and shook hands with him. I noticed she held on to his hand longer than necessary. “You gave me the brochure on that darling manor house.”

“Yes, it’s lovely,” I agreed. Surely he was capable of normal chatter. “So, are you here alone?”

“I am.”

“I wasn’t sure if that girl I saw you with in Florida was your girlfriend,” I asked and immediately wished I hadn’t.

“Girl?” he looked at me blankly. “What girl?”

“Some blonde I saw you speaking with at the polo,” I said, flustered. The last thing I wanted was Griff to misunderstand and think I liked him
that
way.

“They’re all blond at the polo.” He laughed. “You can spend all your time counting the number of bottle blondes versus natural ones. What about you?”

“Me?” I asked, puzzled.

“Ever been a blonde?”

“Never,” I said defiantly, with an involuntary toss of my head (at least it felt involuntary).

“Good to hear,” he said firmly. “Brunettes are much more dangerous.”

“And you like danger?” I asked and realized with a shock that we were flirting. How did that happen?

“Not at all, I always go for redheads.” He smirked. Maybe we weren’t flirting.

“As the token blonde in the conversation,” Fawn cut in, “I prefer male-pattern baldness. Not that either of you asked my opinion.”

“Sorry, Fawn.” I blushed.

“Yes, Kate is in the habit of saying whatever is on her mind with little regard for whoever is in the room,” he said teasingly. “I’ve borne the brunt of her comments myself.”

“Griff, that’s not true,” I said, desperate to dispel his words.

“Perhaps I’m wrong,” he said with a faint grin. “Clive and Emma tell me you have excellent taste, so what you say must be right.”

I wanted the ground to swallow me then and there.

“I love your accent,” Fawn gushed. “Do you follow the polo around?”

“I go to as many tournaments as I can,” he explained. “How long have you known, um,
Lady
Kate?”

“We met in Palm Beach,” Fawn answered and smiled flirtatiously at Griff. It was obvious she found him attractive. I admit those huge blue eyes were hard not to stare at, and his thick black hair seemed to beg my hands to run through it. Even his clothing was passable; crisp dark gray jeans and a gray chunky-knit sweater with a cowl-neck instead of his usual faded blue button-down. He didn’t look anywhere near as scruffy as he usually did. But I didn’t have time to critique Griff’s wardrobe or fret about what he thought about me. A quick glance at our table told me time was of the essence; Vlad had arrived and was fixated on his BlackBerry, sitting as far away from Tatiana as a table for six could provide and no one was talking to one another.

“We have to go,” I said with sudden urgency and grabbed Fawn. She looked at the table and a sly smile spread across her face; she had other plans.

“Yes we do,” she agreed and turned to Griff. “We have an empty seat at our table; would you care to join us for a drink?”

I bit my lip. Griff looked at me, no doubt to gauge my reaction. I stared at the floor. He would take my silence as a definitive no.

“I would love to,” he said and gave Fawn his arm, leaving me to follow as though I were an afterthought.

When we got to the table I whispered in her ear, “This wasn’t a good idea.”

“What party isn’t improved with a dashing Englishman?” she asked as if it were obvious. “Don’t tell me you’re attracted to him?”

I shook my head furiously. “Hardly.”

“Good. Keep your mind on the others and leave Griff to me,” she said confidently. “Southern women know how to host.”

As it turned out, southern hospitality meant insisting on a boy-girl, boy-girl, boy-girl seating plan. To make matters worse, my reluctance to do as Fawn asked left me as the last man standing, which left me with the last empty seat. Seeing no way out, I reluctantly sat down sandwiched between Griff and Vlad with Scott across from me. There went any hopes of an intimate chat.

After that, nothing went to plan and I blamed Griff, or rather Fawn’s impulsive invitation. Instead of stealing Scott’s attention and Vlad and Tatiana falling for each other, the majority of the conversation was about polo. The three men discussed it with a zealousness usually reserved for soccer hooligans. Tatiana continued to sulk in silence while Fawn listened intently to the men and laughed at their polo inside jokes and debates about the skills of various players. I didn’t know Fawn knew that much about polo. I was bored stiff and had begun to make origami with my napkin when my BlackBerry vibrated. I know it’s rude to check one’s text messages at a restaurant but no one was paying any attention to me. Stashing it under the table I saw the message was from Fawn. I shot her a look. She nodded. I read, “Act interested. Laugh. Make eye contact with Scott but flirt with the other men, too.”

I was irritated and typed back furiously, “Unlike you, I know zero about polo.”

I watched her read my message, shake her head, and type something back with equal fury. My device vibrated and I looked down. “Do you think I do? Fake it.”

I looked up again and saw her laughing and patting Scott’s arm. I laughed, trying not to sound too artificial, and turned to Vlad.

“Are you going to the game tomorrow?” I asked in my attempt to seem interested.

“Of course, that is why we are all here,” he said as if I were an idiot.

“Kate is not a fan of horses,” Griff announced. All eyes turned to me as if I had sprouted a third arm. If this was his idea of coming to my rescue, he was vastly mistaken.

“But I thought you rode?” said Tatiana, taking this moment to finally speak. “You said in Palm Beach you rode horses.”

I froze, unsure what to say. I began to stutter something about once riding but Griff piped up.

“I meant she’s not a fan of polo,” Griff said. “Am I right?”

“Absolutely,” I agreed gratefully. “I adore horses and riding. But polo isn’t my thing.”

“That’s too bad,” said Scott, his disappointment palpable. I had to do something.

“I would love it, Scott, if you could explain it to me tomorrow,” I suggested hopefully. “I’m sure I’d appreciate it if I knew more about it.”

This seemed to brighten him up, although Tatiana and Vlad shot me a dirty look.

“I would be happy to,” he said.

That seemed to do the trick for the conversation picked up again. Then Griff stood up and excused himself. I knew I had to talk to him alone before he revealed anything else about me.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” I announced and left the table. I caught up with him at the restroom entrance and pulled him aside, out of sight of the others.

“Can you keep your insights into my character to yourself for the rest of the evening?” I said angrily.

“Keep your voice down, Kate,” he said calmly. “Sorry about that, I had no idea you were playacting, I mean beyond the title bit.”

“I may have said I rode,” I whispered back sharply.

“What are you up to anyway?” he asked. “If you expect me to play a part, then I should know the plot.”

“Long story,” I said unhelpfully.

“I have time,” he said with a smirk.

“If you must know, I’m here to find a husband,” I said huffily, then toned it down when I saw his stunned expression. “What I mean is, it’s finally time to settle down and get married.”

He didn’t react at first but then had the nerve to laugh. “Well, if it’s a rich man you’re after, then you’ve come to the right place.”

My stomach lurched. Was I that transparent? “What makes you say that?” I asked, astonished he’d guessed.

“Why else would a single woman travel to St. Moritz for the polo except to meet a wealthy bloke?” he asked.

“You make it sound so cheap and ugly,” I said unhappily.

“So it’s true? I was only joking!”

This made me furious. “So was I!” I lied.

“I don’t think you were,” he said. “But you can’t be serious.”

I stood there, unsure how to answer. He held my life in his hands. I couldn’t risk him telling anyone the truth, that I wasn’t a lady in the real sense of the word. The silence drew on uncomfortably, seconds felt like minutes.

“Good God, Kate, money can’t buy happiness,” he said at last. “I hoped you were smarter than that.”

“This is being smart,” I insisted. “I have my reasons for being here.”

“I understand money woes; when my parents died their affairs weren’t in order and I’m still reeling from it.”

I bit my lip. Maybe Griff
did
get my problem even if I didn’t tell him everything.

“I’m sorry about your parents,” I said gently.

“My father died five years ago, my mother eight,” he explained. “Life hasn’t been quite the same since. I don’t know what’s happened to bring you to this point but we all carry on as best as we can.”

“Exactly!” I agreed, hopeful we’d reached an understanding. “Please don’t say anything about me?”

“Don’t worry, I want no part of your game,” he said with a weak smile. “But my silence comes with a price. You’ll have to let me take you to dinner one night.”

“You are a master of mixed signals,” I said, exasperated. “One minute you say such mean things to me and the next you’re saving my butt and asking me out.”

“I could say the same about you,” he said, looking miffed.

“I’m easy to understand,” I replied. “I know what I want.”

“I’m sure you do. Though I doubt that Vlad Mihailov is your man.”

I was taken aback. “You know Vlad?”

“No,” he said flatly. “I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard of him. He lives in London.”

“Yes, I know,” I said. “He told me that.”

“He’s not for you,” he said sharply. I was taken aback and offended at the same time.

“Who are you to determine if a man is right for me or not?” I snapped.

“Quite right,” he agreed sourly. “But let’s just say he’s of dubious character and you’d be best to stay as far away from him as possible. He’s not the sort to trifle with, especially not the kind of game you’re playing.”

With that, he disappeared into the men’s room, leaving me no choice but to hope I could trust him.

I returned to the table and gave my full attention to Vlad; there was still time to foist him on Tatiana. But each attempt to start a chat between them was met with frosty glares and one-word answers. Even Fawn’s southern charms were lost on them. It was a disaster. To make things more awkward, Griff came back and ignored me the rest of the evening. Nor could I engage Scott in proper conversation without Tatiana tossing in her two cents. We passed an entire tedious hour this way until, unable to take it anymore, Scott stood up and put an end to the charade.

“I see a client of mine,” he announced and gestured to a short, bald man at the bar. “Tonight’s been delightful but I need to mingle.”

He smiled and walked off with the pouty Tatiana slinking after him. Then it was Griff’s turn.

“I’m also going to circulate a bit,” he said, still not bothering to look at me. I made a face behind his back as he strode away. We were obviously destined to clash. I was determined not to give a fig if he was angry or disillusioned. He had no right to be either and had no claim on me. I rolled my eyes at Fawn. But I should have known she wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“What a lovely girl that Tatiana is,” Fawn said with a smile. I gave
her a puzzled look but she shook her head. “Vlad, don’t you think Tatiana is one of the most beautiful creatures you’ve ever laid your eyes on?”