Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [163]
He said, “Maryanne, this is Miss Harrison.”
She nodded. “Indeed?” she said cuttingly, not offering her hand. “How do you do, Miss Harrison.” Without waiting for a reply, she said, “Buck, I’m afraid we must leave or we shall be late for the ball.” Then she swept through the door without so much as a glance in Francie’s direction.
Buck stared angrily after her. “Forgive my wife,” he said bitterly, “she sometimes has worse manners than her six-year-old daughter.”
Francie shrugged, her face expressionless as she turned away. “Please do not concern yourself, Mr. Wingate.”
He watched her as she walked gracefully across the room toward Annie; her cloudlike dress floated around her slender body and the lamplight caught her shining hair and her wonderful pearls. And he thought she looked the loneliest woman in the world.
Francie knew she couldn’t go through with it; she waited until the reception was over and then told Annie she had a headache and was going home.
Annie glanced sceptically at her. “Well, at least you showed up. I guess it was a start. Let’s take it from there, shall we?”
Annie was surprised when Buck Wingate called her the next morning and even more surprised when he asked about Francie.
She had known Buck for a long time. His primary residence was in Sacramento, but he stayed at Aysgarth’s whenever he was in San Francisco, which was several times a year. At first she had been suspicious of him because she felt any man as handsome and charming as he was had to be up to no good, but Buck Wingate did not play around; he was a good husband even though his wife was a cold fish. He had been involved in politics for years, he was one of the country’s youngest senators and a big future was already being predicted for him by men important enough to influence such things. So why was he calling and quizzing her about Francie Harrison?
“Maryanne’s gone back home,” he explained casually, “but I have to stay here for a meeting. I’m going to be at loose ends and since you are the only woman in San Francisco that I thought might take pity on me I called to ask you to dine with me tonight. And Miss Harrison as well, of course,” he added rather too quickly.
“I’m a busy woman,” she told him, “but I’ll see what I can do.” Putting down the phone she threw on her coat and hurried over to Francie’s. She leaned against the door, her arms folded across her chest with a knowing smile on her face. “So, Francesca Harrison, what did you say to Buck Wingate that’s got him so smitten?”
“Smitten?” Francie blushed the way she used to when Edward Stratton’s name was mentioned. “You must be wrong. He told me he knew Harry and I was very rude to him. Then he introduced his wife and she was very rude to me.”
“Maryanne Wingate is rude to everybody unless they can do her some good,” Annie said bluntly. “And rude or not, Buck Wingate would like the pleasure of our company for dinner tonight—without his wife. And he would probably like it even better if it were without me too.”
“Then you’d better tell Mr. Wingate that I cannot accept his invitation.” She looked exasperatedly at Annie. “Oh Annie, don’t I have enough trouble without Maryanne Wingate’s husband?”
“You do,” Annie agreed. “I just thought you would like to know that the world has not passed you by. If Buck Wingate is interested, other men will be too—if you gave them half a chance.”
But Francie just shook her head. She wasn’t like ordinary people and she knew it. Marriage and happiness were simply not her fate. Nevertheless, it was Buck she was thinking about on the long drive back to the ranch.
The image of the lonely woman in the cloud-gray dress stayed with Buck for a long time. He was a busy man who never did anything by halves. He devoted himself to his work and senatorial responsibilities and tried to avoid the endless round of the entertaining that Maryanne insisted was “all for your career, darling.” He had entered politics as an idealistic young man and though those ideals had been tempered by reason and circumstance, he was and always would