Chapter 25

“Oh, my, dear, it is wonderful to see you,” Hermione said, kissing Cameron on each cheek. “It has been much too long. You’ve done such a splendid job tonight, and I am so very proud of you. But where’s Valentine? I do so want to say hello. What a dear, dear boy.”

Cameron extricated herself from Hermione’s surprisingly firm grip. It was made more difficult by the fact that once again, the older woman was dripping with jewelry, and one of her enormous rings had gotten tangled in Cameron’s hair. “I’m sorry to say that Val won’t be joining us at the Symphony Fundraiser this evening,” she said, trying to smooth down her tangled hair. “I asked Ted Kirkland, Jr. to escort me tonight.”

Hermione’s face fell. “Really?” She blinked a few times. “But I thought you and Valentine were …”

At that moment, Junior chose to join them. “Huge turnout, darling,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Well done, as usual. All of the major donors are here. You always know just how to pull off the perfect party.” Junior smoothed his hand over her messy hair before he noticed Hermione standing there. “Mrs. Alcott,” he said as he held out his hand. “Always a pleasure.”

“Junior,” she said, taking his hand, but still looking at Cameron as if to say what have you done. “A pleasure,” she repeated, somewhat hollowly. “Well, I really must join Evelyn over at the refreshment table. Take care of yourself, dear.”

Cameron watched her back as she disappeared into the crowd, and then she turned to smile at Junior.

God, it killed her to smile at him, and it killed her even more to tell Hermione she wasn’t with Val anymore. But what else could she have done except ask Junior to join her as her date? This event at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum had been booked over half a year ago, and since she was one of the co-chairs of the Boston Symphony fundraiser for their most generous donors, it wasn’t as if she could simply skip the party. She’d had a hand in organizing everything—the venue, the food, the wine selection, the silent auction currently going on in the galleries, and the live auction that would be held later that evening. She’d even gotten her Uncle Nigel, a huge symphony supporter, to be their guest auctioneer. Nigel had done guest auctions before and was one of the best amateur auctioneers around for this kind of group. He knew exactly who the attendees were and what would motivate them to part with their money. Of course, Nigel was doing the event for free as a favor to her.

The open bar and refreshments were set up in the Cloisters, the centerpiece of the museum. Lush blooming plants were artfully arranged in the courtyard, which was surrounded by art-filled stone walkways. Water trickled from several lovely fountains. Beautiful people milled around, sipping champagne, smiling and laughing. Good. They hoped to raise at least $20 million tonight, and everyone needed to be in a fantastic mood. And Cameron had a role to play.

Tonight, she’d perfectly dressed the part of a politician’s wife. She was wearing a shimmery black dress that just skimmed her form—simple, understated, but very elegant, as were her four-inch heels, mandatory dressing in this circuit. Her black pearl earrings were stylish, but safe. And her fingernails were once again polished a pale pink. She’d asked Alessandro to cut and highlight her hair the way he used to do it. Clarissa had gotten a look at her before the event and had given her approval. You’re looking more like yourself than I’ve seen you in ages, Cameron.

Cameron might look like her old self, but she certainly didn’t feel like it.

She’d changed so much since she’d met Val. More than she’d ever anticipated. She still loved dressing up and looking good, but now more than ever, she realized it was all a façade. Appearances simply didn’t matter to her the way they once did. She much preferred her hair more low-maintenance, and now all the pomp and circumstance of the society galas seemed, well, frivolous.

But for Junior, it was a requirement.

Junior took her hand. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I overheard what you and Mrs. Alcott were discussing. I’m glad you asked me to come tonight.” He paused. “I’m guessing that dating outside our sphere wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.” The phrase slumming it was implied, but of course Junior would never say something so crass.

“It was more like I didn’t appreciate what I had right in front of me the whole time,” she murmured, trying for a mixture of regret and hope.

Junior nodded indulgently. “I understand, Cameron. Sometimes when you’re faced with the inevitable, you get nervous and try to fight it.”

“Yes,” she said. If that’s what he wants to think. “Exactly.” She looked at him. “So we’re all right, you and I?”

He squeezed her hand. “More than all right, Cameron. I don’t think it’s been any surprise how I’ve really felt about you all along, but I understood your concerns about being the wife of a public servant. My respect for you hasn’t diminished. If you’ve made your peace, then so have I.” He didn’t mention anything about giving up his other girlfriends, and she didn’t bring up the issue. Instead, she just stood there while he smoothed a hand over her hair once again. “I should really mingle. And you should head to the ladies’ room.”

“All right,” she said. He was still holding on to her hand and had cocked his head to look at her. Just as if he was about to—

“The ladies’ room,” she said quickly, squeezing his hand before pulling it away.

He put his hand on her back to guide her out of the courtyard, and as she looked down, she caught a glimpse of them both reflected in one of the fountains. He, tall, dark, and handsome. She, slim and elegant. The perfect power couple.

If she’d never met Val, she probably would have settled for Junior … or someone else like him. Someone from her social group who would have charmed Frederick and Clarissa, who would have gone drinking with West, who would have escorted her to all her society events and balls. In short, someone who would have fit neatly and tidily into her world.

But as they parted at the edge of the crowd and she watched Junior walk away, she realized that for all his talk about respect, for all his assumptions that their coupling would be a done deal, for all of his ambition and polish, he hadn’t once mentioned that he loved her.

Cameron bit back a sigh. At least she had no illusions as to what he was really like—an intelligent man who primarily cared about his own political ambitions and his family’s status. A man who wouldn’t help Cici, her own sister, when she needed it the most. That certainly spoke volumes about his character. From across the room, she caught her mother’s approving glance. Cameron had her eyes open now. To everything.

She gave those around her a smile before excusing herself and heading to the bathroom. Removing a tiny comb from her clutch, she smoothed out the little kink until once again her hair shimmered in a straight line to her shoulders. She freshened up her makeup and gave herself a once-over. Perfect. Not even Junior could find a flaw.

But she’d grown to love flaws. Messy, sloppy flaws. Even in herself.

As she stepped out of the bathroom and walked around a corner, a strong arm grabbed her and pulled her into a darkened gallery that was closed for the event.

“What the—?”

“Shh …” She immediately recognized Val’s voice and relaxed.

“Val, what are you doing here?” she whispered, looking up at him. He was dressed all in black—most likely to blend in—and the expression on his face was grim. She glanced toward the door. “You shouldn’t be here. How’d you even get in? The security is so tight.”

“Not tight enough,” he whispered back.

“This isn’t time for joking, Val. I’m running an event here. And what if Junior comes looking for me?”

Even in the dark, she could see him glower. “Everything okay with him?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“Yes. Of course. I had to be here at five-thirty for setup. He came by himself.”

“Who’s taking you home?”

“I have to stay late to wind everything down and make sure all the auction items are properly logged, so my co-chair and her husband are driving me back to my place.”

“Good.”

“I told you everything is under control. Please don’t worry.” She was saying it as much for herself as she was for him.

“I’m going to worry until you’re done with this.”

“I know,” she said, reaching for his hand. She’d be doing the same thing if she were in his position. “Do what you need to do.”

Just then, she heard someone’s heels clicking in the hall. Val must have heard it too, since he pulled her deeper into the shadows and pushed her up against the wall, his body covering hers. Immediately, his hands came to her waist and pulled her to him.

“Cam,” he groaned, and she tilted her head up, her lips seeking his. A slow heat spread across her body as he bracketed her up against the wall of the gallery. The works of ancient masters stared down at them as they kissed each other breathless, his hips pressing against hers in a delicious promise.

Desire slammed into her and she was breathing heavily before even ten seconds had passed. This was what he did to her. No one else. Just him. But she couldn’t forget where she was. Not now. Before she was consumed, she pushed against his chest. “We’re bending the rules. You have to go.”

“When can you get back to Star Harbor?”

She wanted him, rules be damned. “Not tonight. Or tomorrow. Sunday.”

“Sunday,” he repeated. He swept a hand through her hair and gave her one last, lingering kiss. “I can wait.” And then he was gone, the silence in the room almost deafening.

“But I can’t,” she whispered into the shadows.

Only after she’d gone back to the bathroom to fix her hair and makeup again did Cameron return to the gallery, where the silent auction was well underway. She was peering at an auction slip, this one for two weeks at a private hunting lodge in Alaska, when Nigel’s urbane voice cut through the chatter.

“Doing all right, Cameron?”

She glanced over to him. “Yes, thanks, Uncle Nigel.”

He cocked his head. “You look … different.”

“Just tired, I think,” she told him, trying to sound reassuring. Though she didn’t need Nigel worrying about her, she was telling the truth. Last-minute planning for this event had taken a lot out of her, not to mention the prep work she’d been doing on the Kirkland case. “Going to bid on anything?” she asked.

Nigel swept his gaze up and down the table. “Not here. I’m saving my money for the live auction. I’ve got my eye on the month in the Paris pied-à-terre sponsored by the Walworths. Their apartment is in the heart of the fourth arrondissement. Gorgeous. I’ve asked Frederick to be my proxy, since I’ll be running the thing.”

Cameron raised an eyebrow. “Anyone in particular you’re planning to ask to join you, or are there too many choices?”

Her uncle just smiled. “That would spoil all the fun, wouldn’t it? Besides, I might ask you the same thing, you with Mr. Grayson one night and Mr. Kirkland the next.” She must have blanched, because her uncle’s smile faded fast. “Oh, Cameron, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you like that. Your private life is your own business.”

“No, I opened myself up for it,” she said, shaking her head.

“I thought you were just having some fun of your own, but now I realize it’s not that at all, is it?”

“It’s a lot more complicated than that, unfortunately.”

“Want to share?”

She shook her head, thinking about the confidentiality clause in her contract with the DEA. “Not tonight.”

“Well, I’m here when you need me.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I truly appreciate that, Uncle Nigel. And I also appreciate the amazing job I know you’re going to do tonight as the auctioneer.”

“I’ll do my utmost,” Nigel said. “And here’s something else to get that smile back on your face. I’ve been meaning to thank you for mentioning Branford Weld’s name. I managed to touch base with him last week, and he and I decided to meet up at the club. Since my interest in the Siren Lorelei is new, I’m unfamiliar with the players in the field, not to mention the extant artifacts and documents connected to the ship. Branford has in his possession a wealth of information about the wreck—books, maps, journals—it’s like a treasure trove of its own.” He sounded positively gleeful. “He’s granted me access to his private collection, and encouraged me to join him at the Star Harbor Historical Society so he can walk me through the collection he’s made available to the public. Further, he’s volunteered to take me on a boating excursion to the wreckage site. We’ve even talked about forming a consortium to hunt for the wreck. Obviously, I’m thrilled.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Cameron said, glad her uncle had found something he was passionate about. “Please let me know when you’re coming to town. I’ll take you back to the LMK for more French toast.”

“I’d like that very much,” Nigel said. Then he glanced behind her. “Don’t look now, but your date’s coming.”

Thank you, she mouthed, as she straightened her back and squared her shoulders like a soldier going into battle. Only then did she turn.

“Ted,” she said with a smile as he approached. “Thank you for joining me. I was just about to come find you for the live auction.”

“Yes, well, Sherry sent me to fetch you because it’s about to start. We should hurry, since you’re going to have to give introductory remarks. Nigel,” he said, nodding at her uncle.

“Hello, Junior,” Nigel replied. “How’s your father?”

“Well, thank you for asking.” Junior took her hand. “Come, Cameron. The auction won’t wait.”

“Go,” Nigel said. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Junior tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and escorted her down the gallery. Trapped against his side, Cameron felt more stifled than she had in months, but what could she do? Accuse him of abandoning Cici when she was drunk at his sister’s party? Have a breakdown in front of Boston’s high society? Blow my cover? No, she couldn’t do that. Because then she’d be destroying Val’s investigation, too.

So she calmly walked with Junior and thanked him politely when he deposited her next to her co-chair. She kept her game face on through her remarks before the live auction. She nodded appreciatively when Nigel induced the cream of Boston’s society to give generously. She smiled throughout the drinking and toasting and the Symphony conductor’s speech. She stayed organized throughout the cleanup. When the evening was over, she gratefully allowed her co-chair to drive her home.

And once she was finally alone in the silence of her empty brownstone, she kicked off her hateful high-heeled sandals, stripped off her party dress, lay facedown on her bed, and cried until she fell asleep.