Free One Dangerous Lady by Jane Stanton Hitchcock

affliction” she could have been talking about.
    The woman on Max’s other side, some European countess of no account I didn’t know, monopolized him from the moment we sat down—which was just as well. I didn’t want to appear anxious. Max was very laid-back and polite, but he did assume an almost cartoonishly defensive posture, tilted way back away from her with his arms crossed in front of him. The more she leaned in toward him, the more he tilted backward. Still, it didn’t stop her from trying to make an impression.
    Sir Arthur and I talked during the appetizer. We had a nice conversation about Barbados and his career (he had started out as a lawyer, then became a magistrate). There was no mention of Russell Cole. As drenched waiters served lukewarm entrees, Max managed to extract himself from the overattentive woman on his right. He turned to me and said, “Well, dear lady, finally we get to sit together. How was the dinner last night?”
    â€œIt was really extraordinary. I’m so sorry you weren’t there.”
    â€œNot as sorry as I am,” he said with a flirtatious air.
    Since he seemed to be somewhat interested in me, I then asked him a question to which I thought I knew the answer, just to see what he would say.
    â€œWhy weren’t you there, if I may ask?”
    Max sighed. “Well, apparently Russell thinks I’m a rather good friend of his ex-wife, whom I’m sure you know.”
    â€œLulu. Yes, I know her,” I said coldly.
    â€œYou don’t sound as if you like her.”
    â€œI can’t say I’m her greatest fan, no.”
    â€œOh?” He cocked his handsome head to one side. “Why not?”
    â€œWell, let’s just say that when I was down on my luck, Lulu wasn’t exactly supportive. I have a little motto in life, which is, I may not remember, but I never forget.”
    Max chuckled. “That’s rather good. I’m going to remember that one.”
    â€œSo are you and Lulu an ‘item,’ as they say?”
    â€œAn item? What does that mean?”
    I couldn’t figure out whether Max was genuinely perplexed or whether he just wanted me to elaborate because he was mischievous.
    â€œUh . . . are you dating Lulu?”
    He leaned in, put his hand under his chin, and gazed at me intently. There was a twinkle in his cool eyes. “What are you really asking me, Jo?” he said, with a sly nuance to his voice.
    I got a little flustered. My little ruse had backfired.
    â€œI don’t know. I was just wondering if you two were involved.”
    â€œInvolved?”
    â€œYou know . . . romantically.”
    â€œI see. And why were you wondering that?” he pressed me.
    â€œI guess because New York is a very small town. I know Lulu. I sort of know you. It’s a point of interest, that’s all.”
    â€œA point of interest,” he said, and nodded. “Like a stop on a sightseeing tour . . . no other reason?”
    â€œWhat other reason would there be?” I asked him.
    He considered a moment. “Oh, I don’t know. I could probably think of a more congenial one if I put my mind to it.” He gave me a warm smile. I couldn’t figure out whether he was flirting with me or just being coy. “Lulu and I are merely good friends,” he went on. “But it seems that in New York, if one is seen with a person more than once, people think you’re engaged. The fact is, I happen to be footloose and fancy-free at the moment. A fairly rare occurrence in my life, I must say.”
    In other words, he was available—or so he seemed to be indicating.
    I decided to change the subject and we talked a little about Taunton Hall, his ancestral home. He obviously adored the place and took great pride in it.
    â€œIt’s a Herculean task to keep the thing up and running,” he said. “Something’s always falling down. This year,