Page 22 of The Devil Goes to Washington

“It’s another Lady Catherine Design. Isn’t it enchanting?” Michael showed off her work, turning her in a circle.

“C’est tres jolie!” a statuesque brunette with a friendly smile joined their little circle.

“Evelyn, this is my friend, Sabine. Oh, neither of you have champagne. Hugh, be a dear and find a few glasses?”

“Enchanté, Evelyn,” Sabine greeted in French, shaking Evelyn’s hand and kissing both cheeks.

“Enchanté, Sabine. This is my husband, Michael Harding.”

“Ah, have you met my husband yet? Laurent, un moment mon cher?”

“Ambassador, so pleased to meet you.” Michael was shaking hands with the man before he finished walking over to them.

“Champagne for everyone!” Estelle exclaimed on Hugh’s return with a server.

Tables were positioned throughout the downstairs of the mansion. Each was a different varietal with an expert to explain and pour. They made their way from the coral room to the dining room where a buffet of delicious bite-sized food was presented. A variety of desserts in small dishes were offered in the green room. Exquisite antiques and priceless works of art lined the walls.

“Are you ok?” she murmured, noticing a slight tremble in his hand.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t realize there would be so few seats.”

“It looks like the older set has already snagged what seats there are. Shall we try another room?” She kept her tone calm, even though the paleness in his face worried her.

“WHAT’S WRONG?” SHE whispered as Michael grasped the window frame.

“I just tripped over the...uh...edge of the rug.” It was too hard to think through the pain, to come up with a believable excuse.

“Hold on to my waist. Clutch it as hard as you need to, and lean against me.” She put his arm around her and he followed the instructions, not having the mind to do much else.

Walking out to the terrace, the bracing air was reviving. Evelyn steered them toward a dark-colored rattan seating area made up of oversized sofas and chairs looking out over the gardens.

“Aren’t they the cutest couple you’ve ever seen?” Carole Williamson called out, making Michael search the area for the senator. “It’s ok, he’s inside. I promise I won’t tell him you were being human. Imagine, a senator being affectionate with his wife. What is the world coming to?” The crowd seated, laughed with her, putting him more at ease than he realized he needed.

“Can we scooch onto one of the sofas?”Evelyn asked, still making it look like they were embracing.

“Here, take my seat. I’m sure you lovebirds could find a way to fit. I need to go find the old coot anyway.” She winked at them, waving as she walked off.

“That is so sweet. Thank you!” Evelyn led him to the chair before Carole had gotten up. “How clumsy of me.” She pretended to fall into the seat with him but she choreographed it so he landed in the cushions with her standing beside him.

“Is that the Lady Catherine Designs dress we’ve been hearing about all night?” An elderly gentleman with a French accent asked politely.

“It is, indeed,” he boasted like it had something to do with him, but he was astonished at the buzz her creations were making. He put an arm around her hips and pulled her to sit on his lap. She resisted, settling for the arm of the chair.

“I don’t want to aggravate your pain.” She murmured to him. Positioning herself close, shoulder to shoulder, her crossed legs touch his. With his arm still around her, he trailed his fingers along the soft porcelain skin the dress left exposed.

“Here, take my coat,” he offered, seeing her shiver. She smiled at him, throwing it over her shoulders. He snaked his arm around her, under the jacket, and resumed his brushstrokes. When she leaned forward, more of her became accessible but unseen to their present company.

“I can imagine the fireworks display from here would be breathtaking.” She kept the conversation going with the others, while he pretended to observe.

He followed the seam down the fullness of her breast until he found the underside. Her breath was quickening but only he could hear it. He slid under the fabric, loosening the dress from the tape that held it in place. Now free of its confines, her breast rolled into his grasp.

“When I was a kid, we did Fourth of July on the M—” She stopped talking and bit her lip when he pulled and squeezed her nipple. “On the Mall,” she finished her sentence. Her hesitation went unnoticed, and the conversation continued to flow around them as they were lost in their own little world.

“We should probably get back to Micah.” She couldn’t help staring at him.

“You’re right. I didn’t realize the time.” Getting up, he winked, and they said their goodbyes along the way to the car.

“Thanks for the assistance tonight. I hope you won’t share what you learned with anyone.” He said while they waited for Stevenson to pull the car around. “DC isn’t friendly to people with vulnerabilities.”