the Overnight Socialite (34 page)

Read the Overnight Socialite Online

Authors: Bridie Clark

BOOK: the Overnight Socialite
4.48Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
"Can you believe she made that dress?" Theo, leaning across Lucy's now empty seat, had the audacity to smile at Wyatt as though they were old chums. "Girl's got serious talent."
"She's got a very bright future ahead of her," said Wyatt. He tried not to think about how his book might stall her career before it started.
The Sotheby's auctioneer called the room to silence. "First we have a Rodarte gown, worn tonight by Miss Libet Vance. Can I start the bidding at ten thousand? Ten thousand from the woman in red. Twelve? I have twelve thousand dollars from the gentleman at the back of the room." The auctioneer continued to rattle off bids. "Fifteen thousand for this one-of-a-kind gown. Going once, going twice--sold to the woman at table twelve for fifteen thousand dollars." Anna Santiago's Nola Sinclair dress--a vampiric mountain of heavy black lace that made Wyatt shudder--went on to sell for a respectable seven thousand, and then Cornelia's gown for an impressive twelve.
"Last but not least, we have a beautiful gown by"--the auctioneer paused to make sure he was reading the program correctly--"Lucy Ellis. Is that right?" Lucy nodded, an easy smile on her face. If she was nervous about her dress's being on the block, it didn't show. Wyatt felt he'd absorbed all her anxiety, compounding his own. He reached quickly for his water glass, nearly knocking over his wine. He didn't think he could stand to watch. "She's wearing her own creation, ladies and gentlemen. I'll start the bidding at five thousand dollars. Can I have five thousand for this stunning gown from Lucy Ellis?"
Echoing Wyatt's worst fears, the Grand Room remained silent. Guests actually stopped chewing, holding their silverware frozen over their plates. Eloise, seated with Max at the next table, shot a glance toward Wyatt, eyes wide with panic. Wyatt himself had stopped breathing. The silence was unbearable. He got ready to raise his paddle. Lucy would be devastated that he'd had to come to her rescue, but it was better than watching her endure this silence for another minute.
Theo's hand shot out to grab his own paddle. "Don't you fucking dare!" Wyatt said, glaring. The thought of Theo Galt owning Lucy's dress appalled him.
"I think you're missing the point of an
auction
," Theo whispered back. "Besides, I've decided I want to back her. Help her start her own label."
"She's already got a swarm of people who want to back her, including me." He spoke without thinking. "She doesn't need your--"
"A one-of-a-kind original by Lucy Ellis," repeated the auctioneer. "Doesn't she look lovely in it? Can I get five thousand for this exceptional gown?"
Before either man could get his paddle in the air, a timid voice called out from the back of the room. "Five thousand!"
Wyatt, exhaling for the first time since Lucy had left her seat, lifted out of his chair to behold the angel who'd bought her gown. Fernanda Fairchild sat with her paddle trembling in the air. Shocked, Wyatt's first instinct was suspicion--why would Cornelia's BFF stick her neck out to save Lucy? But when he turned to the stage to catch Cornelia's reaction--face purpling with rage, jaw dropped--he realized there had just been a major social defection. Fernanda, it seemed, had found her backbone.
With the ice broken, Wyatt watched with glee as paddles began flying faster than the auctioneer could call. Every female in the room seemed to grasp how special Lucy's gown was, and as Wyatt knew, it was a room full of women accustomed to getting what they wanted. Wyatt caught Lucy's eye; because he knew her so well, her cool expression betrayed her elation. If she'd won over this room, the core of chic, there'd be no stopping her.
"Twenty thousand," declared a distinctive voice from the front of the room. Heads whipped around to see who'd more than quadrupled the original ask.
"Margaux Irving! We have twenty thousand from the incomparable Margaux Irving!" the auctioneer chirped. Wyatt, unable to control himself, jumped up from his seat applauding--luckily, others followed quickly. Margaux had made history by raising her paddle--in the decade he'd been attending the Ball, Wyatt had never seen her bid on a gown. "A high bid from the one and only Ms. Irving! Ladies, gentlemen, do we have anyone who'd like to top that?"
Paddles stayed down, as the guests weighed their desire for the gown against the danger of alienating the powerful editor, but the buzz in the room was deafening. His eyes locked with Lucy's in triumph, and she flashed him a huge grin. Cornelia, meanwhile, seemed to be slightly convulsing next to her.
Since nobody seemed to be finding courage, the auctioneer brought down his gavel. "Sold to Margaux Irving for a very generous twenty thousand dollars."
She did it!
Pure jubilation coursed through Wyatt's veins. He felt high. Eloise and Theo and Max were toasting all around him, but once again Wyatt was only truly aware of Lucy, slipping quickly through the crowd, beaming, pausing here and there to graciously accept congratulations from new admirers. When she finally made it back to their table, Wyatt couldn't stop himself--he pulled her close and kissed her, hard, with all the pent-up passion he'd been denying for weeks. When she pressed back against him, her lips petal-soft but her kisses firm, it was all he could do not to carry her out of the party and straight to his bed.
The book
. It flickered momentarily across his frontal lobe, forcing Wyatt to pull back.
"Wyatt?" she asked, touching his arm.
The world had returned to spinning on its axis, but everything seemed changed. Theo, Wyatt noticed with satisfaction, had slunk off toward the bar, trumped by the kiss he'd been forced to witness. Max and Eloise had quickly absented themselves, too. Lucy was looking at him in a new way, her face lit with hope and curiosity. He could see in her eyes that she'd wanted that kiss as much as he did.
The book, the book, the book
. "I--there's something I need to do," he said.
"What, gloat?" She smiled, teasing him. "Give Trip a pass tonight. It can't be easy for him, watching Eloise with Max. You can rub victory in his face tomorrow."
She has no idea
, thought Wyatt, unable to bear his duplicity a moment longer. He cared way too much about Lucy to hurt her. "Just give me a few minutes. I'll be right back." Before she could utter a word of protest, he stood and headed quickly for the door, resolved in what he had to do.
"What the
hell
were you thinking, bidding on that dress?" Cornelia kept her voice low so that only Fernanda and Parker could hear. She'd charged straight to their table as soon as the auction was over, head spinning with anger. "Lucy was twisting in the wind until you opened your fat mouth!"
"Calm down," Parker said slowly. "You're overreacting." Fernanda, her face even paler and more drawn than usual, didn't say a word. She sat with her arms crossed, not meeting Cornelia's eyes, like a prisoner of war anticipating torture.
"Does the troll
speak
for you now, too?" Cornelia could feel a familiar hot darkness welling up inside her. She'd felt it for the first time when she was sixteen and her mother had forgotten that it was Parents' Weekend at Groton and flown to Verbier with her Swiss "friend" Jacques instead. It was a dangerous feeling, Cornelia knew that. Her mother had returned from the slopes to find her friends all gossiping that she had chlamydia. "You're just lucky your grand gesture triggered a bidding war, Fernanda. Where would you have gotten your hands on a spare five thou? You would've had to harvest a kidney--what's the going rate for the internal organs of an aging, insolvent social has-been?"
"There's something seriously wrong with you," said Parker, his cheeks flushing. "Anyone ever tell you that?"
"Oh, please. You're pathetic," she spat back at him. "Broke, bald, boring--no wonder your wife dumped you. I guess Fernanda here is the best you can do." She let out a laugh. "Do you have any idea how many men ol' Fern here threw the cat to during her twenties, hoping one would make an honest woman out of her?"
"Get away from us, you viperous beast!" Parker flew to his feet, while Fernanda remained slumped, face buried in both hands. Though he was considerably shorter than Cornelia, the sheer force of his outrage pushed her back on her heels.
She became aware that people were starting to pay attention. "No need to make a scene," she sneered, pulling herself together. Cornelia Rockman would not be reduced to hysterics in the middle of the social event of the year. She would not raise her voice. She was, after all, a lady, and these two losers were
so not worth it
. Without a backward glance at Fernanda, she turned on her heel and walked away, ending eighteen years of friendship.
In a quiet corner of the now forsaken room where they'd had drinks, Wyatt punched in the phone number and prayed for voice mail. After all they'd been through together, he had no choice. Lucy was a human being, not a chimpanzee under observation. His mother was right: it was time to think of someone besides himself, for once.
"Wyatt!" Damn it, Kipling had picked up. Wyatt could hear the din of a restaurant in the background. "Good to hear from you, son, even at this late hour. Have you--"
"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't publish the book," Wyatt blurted out. With the utterance of each word he felt more weight rise off his heart.
"El, think you ought to slow down just a bit?" Lucy eyed her friend with concern. After Wyatt had abruptly vanished, leaving her stunned and breathless and bewildered by their kiss, she'd found Eloise with Max at the bar. Eloise, normally poised and soft-spoken, was in her cups--no state to help Lucy decode Wyatt's hot-and-cold behavior--and had just overridden Max to order yet another martini.
"I'm
celebrating
! My girl just
dominated
the auction!" Eloise leaned across the bar to snag one of the jumbo martini olives. Then she fell on Lucy, holding on for dear life. Max put an arm protectively over Eloise's fragile shoulders and tried to help her stand.
"Why don't we celebrate with some bread and coffee?" Lucy flagged down a passing waiter and made the request.
"Good idea," said Max over Eloise's head. "She hasn't touched a bite."
"I can hear you!" Eloise laughed, leaning on Max. "How can I eat when my boyfriend is doing the bump-and-grind with some
Gossip Girl
castoff?" She waved her pointed finger toward the dance floor, but Lucy couldn't see Trip anywhere. Eloise accepted her fresh martini from the bartender, who shrugged at the look Lucy gave him. As she brought the glass to her lips, it tipped a little and sent a splash down the front of her beautiful strapless gown. Eloise stared at the graying stain for a moment, before swinging her head back up with a grin. "Wet couture contest!" she hooted, swallowing more gin.
Max lunged for a napkin and held it in front of her as her gown went translucent. "We need to get you home," he said.
"Just one dance," Eloise slurred. She took Max's hand and dragged him toward the dance floor. Short of carrying her out of the ball cave-man-style, there didn't seem to be much he could do.
Lucy was distracted by Wyatt's hand touching down on her elbow, a light contact that nonetheless sent a shiver throughout her whole body. "Sorry to rush off like that. Now the night's all ours." He smiled, his blue-gray eyes twinkling, and grabbed two champagne flutes from a nearby table. He handed her one, grazing her hand. "So."
She smiled softly. "So."
"Three months went by fast, didn't they?" He studied her face.
"If you weren't the one living on kale and exercising five hours a day," she laughed. But it had. She took a sip of champagne, the bubbles tickling the roof of her mouth. Wyatt slipped an arm around her waist, his hand pressing against her back. It felt overwhelming and strangely natural at the same time.
"It went by fast for me, then. Too fast." He leaned toward her, kissing her again--it felt more deliberate, this time, but even more delicious.
Could this really be happening?
Lucy had never believed in fairy-tale romance--Rita and her short list had stripped away the veil from her young eyes--but she was now faced with mounting evidence that Happily Ever After could actually . . . happen. Once she made things right with Rita, her life would be perfect. "I don't want this night to end," she murmured, kissing him between words.
"Sorry to break up the gropefest." Cornelia, looking rosy-cheeked, materialized next to them. The pin-thin blonde flashed them a sticky sweet smile, laying her hand on Lucy's arm and reminding Lucy of Wyatt's observation that
a smile is sometimes the social animal's way of baring her teeth
. "You've had quite a night for yourself, haven't you? It's just too bad your mama wasn't here to see it, Lucy Jo. I pulled every string I could think of to get her that ticket."
So Cornelia knew. Thinking of the way she'd treated Rita, Lucy wanted to sink through the floorboards. "The two of you met?"
"Oh, yeah. Rita and I had quite the catch-up." Cornelia cocked her head. "You can't miss the family resemblance. The nose, the hips . . . She told me about how you worked all through high school as a waitress at the local truck stop. What a refreshing choice for the heiress of a major timber fortune. And then your job in Nola Sinclair's factory--"
Wyatt exploded first. "Enough! I don't know what your point is--"

Other books

Punishment by Holt, Anne;
Love Comes Home by Terri Reed
Above Rubies by Mary Cummins
Zandru's Forge by Marion Zimmer Bradley
The Blind Man of Seville by Robert Wilson