The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [150]
After a few moments he got up. Without even looking at her, he walked to the bathroom and closed the door. She heard the sound of water as he turned on the shower and she closed her eyes again, stunned. She wondered if this was what making “love” was all about, and if so how anybody could ever call it love. And how could anybody enjoy it, the way all the showgirls had told her you were supposed to? There had been no tenderness, no loving caresses, just a brutal transaction between two bodies.
He returned from the bathroom wrapped in a robe, looking clean and refreshed and perfectly normal, as if nothing were wrong. “I suggest you take a bath,” he said coldly. “You will feel better in the morning.”
“Eddie?” she whispered, sitting up and clutching at his hand. “Is it always like this? The first time?”
He shrugged. “Some women like it more than others. It’s up to you, Verity, whether it gets better—or worse.” His pale eyes were cold and expressionless as he said, “I’m going to bed now. Please do not wake me in the morning. I asked the valet to bring me my breakfast at ten. You may do whatever you please.” And without a second glance he strode into the other bedroom. She stared disbelievingly as the door closed and she heard the sound of the key in the lock, and then she turned her face into her pillow and wept because all her wonderful romantic dreams had come to nothing.
They met again at lunch the next day. He was urbane and charming in public and aloof and silent in private. Dinner that night was a grand affair, and Missie decked herself up in her most beautiful gown, a soft, rustling sea-green silk with a beaded shawl like a peacock’s tail. She wore diamond stars in her hair and the diamond snake bracelets Cartier had given as a wedding present to the wife of their favored customer. Eddie looked handsome in his hard, military-looking style, and she thought wistfully that they made a beautiful couple as he escorted her down the wide staircase to the captain’s table.
She was seated between the captain and a famous English cabinet minister, who had seen her onstage at the New Amsterdam Theater and told her he would forever be a devoted admirer. She did her best to sparkle and be amusing but most of the time she was watching Eddie covertly through her lashes, flirting and chatting intimately with the tall, blond German countess Gretel ?on Dussman, whom he obviously knew well.
Afterward she undressed and prepared for bed in another of Elise’s alluring confections, wishing she had brought some of her old cotton nighties with her. She waited nervously for Eddie to arrive but though she heard him moving around in the next room, he did not appear. Later she heard his door slam and the sound of his footsteps disappearing along the corridor, and she climbed sadly into bed. He must be so disappointed in her that he had decided to try his luck at the casino instead.
The pattern of their days on board fell into a regular routine. She would rise early and have breakfast with Azaylee and then they would take a walk around the decks, maybe try their luck at a game of quoits or shuffle-board. At eleven they would sip a cup of hearty bouillon on deck, brought by an attentive steward, and at one they would join Eddie for lunch.
Though he did not seem to have much to say to her, Eddie certainly went out of his way to charm Azaylee. He bought her trinkets and little gifts from the shop and spoiled her with chocolates and cream cakes. Missie thought she bloomed in his presence, like a little girl who had finally found a father.
Missie always sat with Azaylee while she had her supper, and then she went back to her sumptuous stateroom and the nightly ritual of preparing for dinner. She wore a different Elise gown in a different color scheme each night, drawing admiring glances as she descended the stairs on the arm of her handsome millionaire husband. And each night she watched him flirting with Gretel von Dussman, and each night she waited in vain