“You reallyaredifferent.”
“Ah,” Sterling said as understanding dawned. “So that’s why you’re here. To see if I’ve truly reformed my wicked ways.” Water sloshed over the rim of his glass as he spread his arms apart in a mocking gesture of welcome. “How brave of you to enter the home of a murderer.”
“I never thought–”
“Didn’t you?” he interrupted with a sardonic cant of his head. “Not to worry. You weren’t the only one. The entiretonwas frothing at the bit to see me stand trial. Some of them still are, I’m sure.”
“A lot of the gossip has died down since you became engaged to Miss Stanhope.” Fieldstone picked up a small glass figurine of a horse sitting on the middle of a table and ran his thumb across its mane. “I assume that was your intention in selecting her to be your wife.”
“My intentions were…varied,” Sterling said guardedly.
“I’ll admit I never had you picked for the marrying type.”
“Neither did I. But Rosemary was–” He stopped short. Scowled into his water.
“Was what?” Fieldstone prompted.
“Unexpected.”
“That much is clear.” Carefully returning the horse figurine to its place on the table, Fieldstone approached and slapped his hand on Sterling’s shoulder. “You really do look better, and I’m glad that you found whatever it was you were searching for.”
A brief hesitation, and then Sterling embraced his old friend. “Good to see you again. Let’s not wait another six years next time.”
“I agree.”
Another hearty, very manly squeeze (which was completely different from a hug), and they let go of each other to walk out into the foyer.
“Will you be at the Royal Gala tonight?” asked Sterling.
Slipping into a burgundy frock coat, Fieldstone shook his head. “Couldn’t get an invitation this year.”
“If only you knew someone who was capable of getting whatever invitation they wanted. Perks of the title and all that.”
“It’s all right. This was better. Besides, I’ve a standing appointment at The Black Rose.”
The Black Rose was an exclusive, high price club in the middle of the theater district. It had been a regular haunt for both men once upon a time, and where Sterling had first met Eloise after he watched her in a memorable (and completely nude) performance as Cleopatra in a very loosely adapted version of Shakespeare’sAntony and Cleopatra.
“Go on, then,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to be late for that.”
“You should join me next time. The girls will be pleased to see you.”
“Course they would, given what they’ve had to work with.” He delivered a playful punch to his friend’s arm. “Unfortunately, I reallyammostly reformed. And engaged, in case you’ve already forgotten.”
“What does that have to do with…oh,” said Fieldstone when he saw Sterling’s expression. “You’re serious. About Miss Stanhope, that is.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m marrying her, aren’t I?”
“Yes, but I thought…never mind. Clearly, I was wrong. Enjoy the gala. I’ll be thinking of you while I’ve gorgeous women climbing on my lap at The Black Rose.”
“God, I hope not.” Quietly musing, Sterling waited until his friend had nearly reached the street before he called out, “How did you know?”
“Know what?” Fieldstone shouted back.
“That I was searching for something.”
A long pause, and then: “Aren’t we all?”
Chapter Sixteen
