Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [0]
BUT SHE GAVE THE WORLD HER
DAUGHTERS—THREE BEAUTIFUL WOMEN
IN PURSUIT OF SUCCESS, FULFILLMENT
…AND LOVE.
Paris—Tall, gorgeous, ambitious, she would beg, borrow, or steal to get couture fashions launched … and be tempted to seduce the man who could help her do it.
India—voluptuous, sensual, a child-woman embroiled in an affair with a married man … and about to find that she may have surrendered too much, for too little.
Venetia—The youngest and the image of her actress mother, a leggy all-American girl discovering the dalliances and deviances of high society … on a luxury yacht in the arms of her boyfriend’s father.
WILD, BEAUTIFUL, AND PROUD …
“MAKING IT” IN A WORLD OF MONEY
AND POWER WOULD BE
SHOCKING … SIZZING …
AND VERY SEXY!
INDISCRETIONS
Books by Elizabeth Adler
LÉONE
PEACH
FLEETING IMAGES
INDISCRETIONS
THE PROPERTY OF A LADY
FORTUNE IS A WOMAN
LEGACY OF SECRETS
THE SECRET OF THE VILLA MIMOSA
NOW OR NEVER
SOONER OR LATER
1
LONDON, 24 October
Venetia Haven hurried across Pont Street, her arms full of autumn flowers from Harrods and her head full of questions.
The flowers were for Lydia Lancaster, who, she knew, would have forgotten to pick up any herself, although a dozen guests were expected for dinner. The endless crystal vases and antique washbowls, jugs, tureens, and cachepots, some of them probably worth a small fortune, were crammed with a wilting display of saddened blooms that dripped petals and pollen on every ledge and table in the house. Lydia seemed to notice them only when they were fresh and bursting with color and scent. As they withered, so did her interest. It wasn’t that Lydia Lancaster didn’t care. It was simply that she never thought about what was next on her crowded schedule until she was faced with it. Her friends were never quite sure whether they loved her despite her casual absentmindedness, or because of it. It was a part of Lydia’s exuberant charm that her total interest in the person she was with at that moment tended to eclipse her good intentions to be more practical about such things as regular meals, walking the dogs, getting her children back to school on time with everything properly labeled, or getting the car serviced. And Venetia adored her.
The questions had lurked unanswered at the back of Venetia’s mind all summer, and now, with the change of seasons and the first really gray October day, they had surfaced with an urgency that demanded answers.
Venetia hovered at the edge of the pedestrian crossing, scarcely noticing the surging evening traffic. Her thick sweep of pale blond hair was tossed by the suddenly wintry wind, and she thrust it impatiently behind her ears. Her tall, slight figure was wrapped in the lavish cream cashmere trench coat that Jenny had sent from Alan Austin’s in Beverly Hills and she wore it, British style, with warm caramel ribbed tights and matching easy loafers. With her arms full of bronze and yellow flowers, Venetia looked the perfect image of a well-brought-up English girl. Which she was. “Almost,” she added with a sigh. That was one of the questions. Jenny wanted her to go home. “I want you to go to college here, Venetia,” she’d announced firmly on the telephone, “I miss you.” A fine time to decide that, thought Venetia miserably, after twelve years. London was home now; it was Los Angeles that was the foreign land. It’s my life, she thought rebelliously, and my future.
My future? She added the big question mark at the end. What do I have to offer? I’m nineteen years old, educated at the very best English schools, possessor of a brand-new, hard-earned cordon bleu cooking diploma. I’m not the least bit academic. I’m five feet nine inches tall, in good shape, and my friends think I’m pretty. And I’m Jenny Haven’s daughter.
The taxi honked impatiently, waiting for her to cross, jolting Venetia from the quick calculation of her assets, although she wasn’t always sure whether the last item on the list was an asset or a liability. Anyway, there didn’t seem much to build a