The Jane Austen Marriage Manual (22 page)

“No,” he snapped. “Slovenian girls are whores. That whole country is filth.”

Fawn and I flinched in disgust.

“I like women, not girls,” he continued sternly. “Young ones talk too much. Kate, she is woman.” I felt his hand on my leg.

“I have to go to the ladies’ again,” I announced and stood up. “All that wine.”

I darted off. It was useless. Our plan had totally backfired. He was still into me. Why did I have to find the one rich man who didn’t want to date a cheerleader, but who I wanted nothing to do with? Classic romance dilemma; you always want the man you can’t have, and you never want the man that wants you. Turning forty hadn’t changed a thing.

The ladies’ room was vast. It had two sections: There were the cubicles in one area and there was a “parlor” in another; separating them was a mirrored foyer. The parlor was furnished with upholstered benches strategically placed in front of large mirrors and marble counters that were stocked with perfumes and hand creams. A female attendant stood guard, ready to squirt lotion or offer you a tissue at a moment’s notice. At the far corner of the parlor was a chaise, or fainting couch, complete with wingback chair at its side for amateur psychiatrists to dispense advice. As we all know, the ladies’ room is where broken hearts are revealed and soothed; that the Polo Bar addressed this fact of life by an isolated space to save face made me think that the Swiss really did know how to run everything like clockwork.

I sat down on one of the pink stools to reapply my lipstick and had just unsnapped the lid when I heard the unmistakable sound of crying. I looked around. The attendant stood like a sentry, indifferent to the sobs—no doubt she’d seen and heard plenty before. But to me, the crying was like a siren call and I went to investigate. I saw that the
farthest cubicle door was shut tight. As I inched closer, the crying grew louder. Whoever was in there was sobbing her heart out.

“Are you okay in there?” I called out.

The only answer was more sobbing.

“Do you need me to get someone for you?” I offered. Still nothing.

“I’m going to leave now,” I said, raising my voice so she could hear me above her tears. I was about to walk away when the door opened. I felt my jaw drop and my eyes widen, not knowing where to look or what to say, for the woman who had been weeping so mournfully was Tatiana. She marched past, her face streaked with mascara, and proceeded to wash her face at the sink.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, half expecting her to say something rude. She straightened her posture so she stood tall and proud. Here it comes, I thought, the bitchy comeback. But instead she broke down.

Just then the door burst open and a group of women trotted in, chattering loudly. I grabbed Tatiana by the hand and led her to the chaise.

“Sit here a moment,” I said and, grabbing a box of tissue, sat beside her. I expected her to stop crying. But Tatiana didn’t stop crying. Whatever was the matter was serious and I began to feel sorry for her. The fact that Tatiana had always been rude to me and also happened to have the man I wanted naturally made me hate her. But right now, she was just a wounded kid.

“Did something happen?” I tried again.

She looked up at me. All mascara and eyeliner had long vanished, her face was clean and her eyes were red. I had to admit that she was a very pretty girl. I could see why Scott found her so appealing; there was an innocence and vulnerability about her that was compelling.

“Scott broke up with me,” she blurted suddenly and collapsed into sobs again. I perked up.

“When?”

“Before the evening started,” she explained. “He let me come because I was so upset.”

“What? Why?” I asked. I may have felt sorry for her, but if Scott was now single, I wanted to know.

“I thought he liked another woman,” she sobbed. “You, maybe. He always goes on about how elegant and smart you are.”

“Really?” I said with a broad smile and quickly returned to a concerned look. “I’m sure he doesn’t think of me that way.”

“You are right,” she said. My heart sank. “I hacked into his e-mail expecting to find love notes. But there was nothing.”

I knew he hadn’t e-mailed me but clearly he thought about me enough to tell Tatiana. Maybe there was hope.

I took a deep breath. “Oh, Tatiana, the problem with spying on your man is that whatever you find you have no one to blame but yourself,” I explained maturely.

“I guess so. He lost his temper.”

“And now he doesn’t trust you?”

She nodded. “He said I was ridiculous. He was a one-woman man and I should trust him. But I love him!” she shrieked suddenly and burst into tears again. I rubbed her back. That she was actually in love with Scott was a complication that I hadn’t counted on.

“I didn’t know you loved him,” I said gently. “I thought you wanted him because he was rich.”

She stopped crying again. “I do love him. And yes, I need a rich man because I don’t want to live in Slovenia anymore. My family is very poor, I didn’t have money to go to university because I had to work to support my mother. And I don’t even like my mother.”

“I don’t get on with my mother, either,” I said sympathetically, thinking of Iris back home in Park Slope with Ann.

“I was raised by my grandmother,” Tatiana explained. Now it was my turn to sit up straight. I never imagined I’d have anything in common with this girl and now she had my sympathy. “My grandmother lives in a one-bedroom apartment with my mother. I worked at a medical office but didn’t make enough money, so I became a waitress at a very expensive restaurant and then I met Scott. I need to marry a rich man, and then I will take care of my grandmother.”

Tatiana suddenly impressed me. She had come to the conclusion twenty years before I had that the solution to her problems was to marry a rich man, to do whatever she had to do to help her family. She
should move to New York and hit the clubs with Tina and Arianna. I thought of my article, how I was supposed to be figuring out how to help women like her find a husband to take care of them. But she stood in my way and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to give her any advice. She kept crying so pitifully …

“Have you ever seen
Pride and Prejudice
?” I asked, giving in to my good side.

She looked up at me and nodded. “With Keira Knightley? I love that movie.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, there is that one, too. But it’s nothing compared to the 1995 television miniseries with Colin Firth.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know him. Who did he play?”

The horror. “Mr. Darcy, of course! I suppose every generation gets the
Pride and Prejudice
it deserves,” I said huffily. “But my point is that Elizabeth was always a lady even when she was suspicious of Darcy. And it turned out her accusations and assumptions of his motives were wrong. Chances are you’re wrong about Scott. Now you have to make amends and behave like a lady if you want to hang on to him.”

I paused before uttering my final bit of advice, words that were hard to say. “You’d better get back out there and apologize to him,” I ordered.

“He won’t accept it,” she said, her eyes filling up once more. “He hasn’t spoken to me all night.”

“Beg him, then,” I instructed. “He’s your chance to be happy, and to help your grandmother.”

At that moment, Fawn burst through the door with a panicked look on her face. “There you are! Your Russian bear is frothing at the mouth,” she said excitedly but then stopped dead when she saw Tatiana. “What goes on here?”

“Tatiana and Scott broke up,” I explained. Tatiana stood up and, straightening her dress, glided across the room to the vanity. “It appears that our brief intimacy is over,” I whispered.

Fawn was grinning ear to ear. “So now that Scott is a free man, you have to make your move.”

“Oh, Fawn, I can’t just sweep in there. Look at her.” I gestured to
Tatiana, who was reapplying makeup to her red and swollen eyes. “She’s heartbroken.”

Fawn raised her eyebrows at me. I shrugged.

“You’ve been after him for how long?” she asked.

“Not that long,” I said.

As we headed to the door I glanced once more at Tatiana. She looked up in the mirror and for a few seconds our eyes met. I waited for a show of warmth, anything that said we had crossed the line from rivals to friendship, but her expression was blank as she returned to her mascara. It was all I needed. I had a feeling that Scott could be made to forgive her. But I wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight.

“I don’t see him,” I said to Fawn on our way back to Vlad.

She looked around the room, then stopped the maître d’. “Have you seen Mr. Madewell?”

“Monsieur left about ten minutes ago,” he answered and dashed off toward the lineup of people waiting to get in.

“Damn,” I said loudly. Truth was, I didn’t want to go back to Vlad. There was only one man who would do and that was Scott Madewell. And now he was free.

It was then that I spotted Griff at the bar settling his tab. I asked Fawn to give me a moment and walking up behind Griff, I tapped him on the shoulder. He wheeled around to face me.

“If it isn’t the robber bride,” he said coolly.

I winced a little but ignored his remark.

“You have something in your hair,” he said, lifting his hand to my head. As he did so I turned my face to see what he was plucking at and my lips grazed his arm. That alarm went off inside again,
ding, ding, ding;
clearly my body enjoyed his touch more than I wanted it to, which set off alarms of a different kind. I couldn’t be attracted to Griff, could I?

“It looks like a feather,” he said and held the white piece of fluff up so I could see it. He smiled. “You can trust me.”

I was suddenly speechless but couldn’t take my eyes off him. Another second or two of intense staring and he’d kiss me, I could feel it, and what’s more, I wanted it.

“There you are.” Vlad had found me. Fawn was right behind him. I was far more disappointed at the interruption than I expected.

“Where have you been?” he demanded, completing ignoring Griff.

“Poor thing,” Fawn jumped in. “She was feeling terribly faint. Luckily she didn’t fall on the marble and get a concussion.”

Vlad looked from Fawn to me. I feigned weakness and nodded.

“You okay now?” he said, softening a little.

“Yes, much better, thank you.”

“Then go get your coat,” he ordered. “We go for nightcap.”

I was not going anywhere with him.

“Honestly, Vlad, I don’t want a nightcap. I just want to go back to my room.”

Vlad grabbed my elbow and yanked me. My eyes widened in panic. I wasn’t expecting him to be so aggressive.

“I said nightcap,” he snapped.

“I don’t think you understood the lady,” said Griff suddenly.

“What did you say?” Vlad growled.

Fawn and I stood wide-eyed. I was suddenly afraid for Griff. Vlad was big and angry, and worse, sexually frustrated.

But Griff stepped forward and took me by the arm. “Kate, give me your ticket and we’ll go and get your coat.”

“Who do you think you are?” Vlad stamped his foot.

“A friend,” Griff answered calmly. “You heard Fawn,” he continued. “Kate is unwell, she doesn’t want a nightcap.”

“I don’t,” I said quivering.

Vlad stood steaming like a villain in a cold war movie but Griff was unaffected.

“Good night, Mr. Mihailov,” Griff said smoothly and led me away, Fawn trotting behind us. After we got our coats, Griff escorted us to the hotel. We walked in silence; the crisp night air was so refreshing after the stale ambience of the Polo Bar, but my mind was far noisier, running through the events of the evening. I knew that I was unmistakably attracted to Griff. It wasn’t just his showdown with Vlad—though his sudden display of manliness was very appealing—and sure, his looks had grown on me. But he was also kind, generous, and thoughtful. I was drawn to him because he took care of me. Geez, I
tried to shake the thought free. I must be reacting to the disastrous night. That was it: I was vulnerable and Griff had saved me. I convinced myself the feeling was temporary.

“Can you make it to your rooms on your own?” he asked once we’d reached the hotel lobby. “I’m not staying here. Too rich for my blood.”

“Yes, thank you,” Fawn said and grabbed my elbow.

“Are you free for lunch tomorrow?” he asked me suddenly. “Before the polo?”

I felt Fawn squeezing me as a signal, and I was glad to have her there, otherwise who knows what might happen.

“No thank you,” I said firmly. “I already have plans.”

“Fair enough,” he said and marched off. When he was gone Fawn applauded me.

“Good girl,” she grinned. “It’s hard to turn down an invitation from a handsome man.”

“Handsome will only get you so far,” I said blithely.

“Honey, I couldn’t have said it better myself,” she agreed. “It’s too bad, though. He seems to have so many other qualities.”

“It’s not quality I’m after,” I said. “It’s quantity.”

J
ust when I thought Vlad was out of my life forever, a huge bouquet of roses arrived with my breakfast along with a handwritten note and two tickets to the VIP enclosure for the polo. The note said, “Dear Kate, my apologies for seeming impolite last night. Allow me to make it up to you with these tickets for you and your friend. Yours, Vlad Mihailov.”

The man couldn’t take a hint. The old-fashioned scheme to withhold sex obviously worked. Vlad was clearly determined to seduce me. There was little for me to do about it now. I would have to be civil with Vlad. But Fawn had already seen to it that we had VIP tickets so I decided if I saw Griff again, I would give them to him. He had helped me last night, it was the least I could do. He was still such a puzzle. I had texted Emma for advice, insight, anything, but she wasn’t getting back to me.

“Look, I don’t know how to tell you this, but your Dear Jane Austen advice dispenser worked a little too well. Scott is back with Tatiana.” Fawn delivered the bad news as we walked toward the field of machine-groomed snow that was set for the polo tournament. She had abandoned her yellow puffy jacket for her mink, while I made do with my black fitted outfit from the first day.