Part 15 (1/2)

No. This ' it happened at home too. I I'm sorry but I can't explain. It's very awkward. I'm only very sorry to have spoiled your evening. You can just drop me off and go back.

But that was not at all what Corbett Ewing had in mind. There was something rare and strange about this woman that touched his heart Something hidden, something remarkable and oblique. She had regal bearing, beauty, he could see in her eyes that there was humor and wit, but there was also something else, something buried, something more. Pain, sorrow, loneliness, he had seen it now, with her dark, smoldering look. He sat very quietly for a moment, then as they turned into the park he spoke easily again.

How's my friend Alessandro? They exchanged a smile, and Corbett was pleased to note that the mention of the boy seemed to unbend her.

He's very well.

And what about you? Bored yet? He knew that she rarely left the apartment, except for brief walks with Natasha. He didn't understand it, but it seemed to be all she did. But now she shook her head vehemently with a smile.

Oh, no, not bored! I've been so busy!

Have you? He looked intrigued. Doing what?

Working.

Really? Did you bring your work with you? She nodded. In what line?

For an instant she was stumped. But she came up with an answer quickly. With my family. In ' art.

Interesting. I'm afraid I can't claim anything as n.o.ble as my line of work.

What do you do? Obviously something very successfully, she thought, as her eyes gently wandered over the wooden-and-leather interior of the new Rolls.

A number of things, but mostly textiles. At least that's what I prefer. The rest I leave to the people I work with. My family began with textiles a long time ago and that's what I've always liked best.

That's interesting. For a moment there was a light in Isabella's eyes. Are you particularly involved in any one kind? She was dying to know if she bought from him but she didn't dare ask. Perhaps she could glean the information from something he said.

Wools, linens, silks, cottons. We have a line of velvets that upholsters most of this country, and of course man-made fibers, synthetics, and some new things we're developing now.

I see, but not dress fabrics then. She looked disappointed. Upholstery wasn't her bag.

Yes, of course. We do garment fabrics too. Garment. She cringed at the hideous word. Garment. Her dresses weren't garments. That was Seventh Avenue. What she did was haute couture. He couldn't decipher the look in her eyes but he was amused just the same. We probably even made the fabric for the dress you have on. He allowed a rare burst of pride to show in his voice, but she looked at him then, haughty, the princess from Rome.

This fabric is French.

In that case I apologize. Amused, he backed down. Which brings to mind something far more important. You never told me your last name.

She hesitated only for an instant. Isabella.

That's all? He smiled at her. Just Isabella, the Italian friend?

That's right, Mister Ewing. That's all. She looked at him long and hard, and he nodded slowly.

I understand. After what he had glimpsed at the theater, he knew she had been through enough. Something very difficult had happened to this woman, and he wasn't going to pry. He didn't want to frighten her away from him.

They pulled up at that moment in front of Natasha's door, and with a small sigh Isabella turned to him and proffered her right hand. Thank you very much. And I'm terribly sorry to have spoiled your evening.

You didn't. I was just as happy to get out of there. I always find benefits a bore.

Do you? She looked at him with interest. Why is that?

Too many people, too much small talk. Everyone is there for the wrong reasons, to see their cronies and not to benefit whatever cause. I prefer seeing my friends in small gatherings where we can hear each other talk.

She nodded. In some ways she agreed with him. But in other ways evenings like that one were in her blood.

May I see you inside, just to make sure no one is lurking in the halls?

She laughed at the suspicion, but gratefully inclined her head.

Thank you. But I'm quite sure I'm safe here.

As she said it something told him that that was why she had come to America. To be safe.

Let's just make sure. He walked her to the elevator and then inside. I'll just take you up.

Isabella said nothing until the elevator stopped, and then suddenly she felt awkward; he had been so incredibly nice.

Would you like to come in for a moment? You know, you could wait for Natasha until she comes home.

Thank you, I'd like that. They closed the door. Why didn't she come back with us, by the way, instead of staying to play Meet the Press? That had puzzled him as he had run with Isabella, thinking of what Natasha had just said.

Isabella sighed as she looked at him. She could at least tell him that much. I think she felt it would be wiser if no one knew I was with her.

That's why you came in late? She nodded, and he said, You lead a very mysterious life, Isabella. He smiled, not asking further questions, as they sat down on the long white couch.

The rest of the evening pa.s.sed quickly. They chatted about Italy, about textiles, about his home. He had a plantation he had bought in South Carolina, a farm in Virginia, and a house in New York.

Do you keep horses in Virginia?

Yes, I do. Do you ride?

She grinned at him over their brandies. I used to. But it's been a long time.

You and Natasha will have to bring the boys down there sometime. Would you have time for that before you go back?

I might. But as they began to speak of it Natasha marched through the door. She looked wilted and exhausted and she looked Isabella straight in the eye.

I told you you were crazy to try it. Do you have any idea what you've done? Corbett was startled for a moment at the look on her face and the vehemence of her tone. But Isabella did not appear to be ruffled. She motioned to Natasha to sit down.

Don't get so excited. It was nothing. They took some pictures. So what? She tried to conceal her own worry and held out a warm hand.

But Natasha knew better. She turned her back in fury, and then stared at Corbett and then Isabella, as she pulled up the satin tunic and sat down.