was him.”
“Better get back to bed, Nella. That robe isn’t really warm enough for a sick woman,” Lauren said a little waspishly. When the model had gone, Lauren turned to Herbert. “What can I do for you?” she asked shortly.
Herbert essayed his wheedling smile. “I wanted to apologize for coming in here drunk last night to wait for you, Laurie. I guess I just got worried when things seemed to be falling apart on you.”
“How were you proposing to help me?” Lauren countered.
“Well,” he said with a wide grin, “I was going to offer you my shoulder to cry on, as I remember.”
“But you really don’t remember,” added Lauren. “You came on strong and nasty.”
“Ah, forget that, babe,” Herbert coaxed. “You know I’ve got your best interests at heart.”
“So what else besides a shoulder did you have in mind?”
“I was going to propose to you again,” he confessed, looking like a small boy. “You need a husband, Laurie baby. I can help you with the business details Al always saw to. Leave you free to do your thing with the designs.”
Lauren studied the self-indulgent face of her husband’s best friend. “Sorry, Herbert,” she said as gently as she could. “I really don’t need a husband right now.”
“But you do need someone to get this show on the road—or off the deck. From the look of Nella and from what I hear about Dani, you haven’t got a show. Be reasonable, Laurie-baby. You need me.”
Where had Herbert dredged up this “Laurie-baby” bit? He sounded like an old-style Hollywood producer. Lauren was suddenly very tired of his fat, flabby face, body, and mind.
“You’ll be glad to know that I’m handling it, Herbert,” she said coolly. “Not to worry—” She caught herself short. Would that British phrase give Herbert a lead to her group of dancers? She didn’t think so, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Herbert was looking extremely curious, and he had no scruples about prying. “Look, Herbie-baby, I’ve got to get changed for tonight’s show. It’s Maartens, and he always has elegance.”
“Have dinner with me, Lauren,” Herbert wheedled. “I’m in the Princess Grill Restaurant. It’s really something. I can have a guest if I work it right.”
“I’m dieting, Herbert. See you later.” She hustled him, still talking, out the door and locked it. Then, poking her head into the models’ bedroom, she said clearly, “Don’t open that door for anyone but the doctor, got it? I don’t want my new collection made available for anyone who wants to look at it.”
That harsh but deserved rebuke quite crushed Nella.
Grimly, Lauren ordered a salad and tea to be delivered in one hour, and went to take a shower.
She wore an understated evening gown for the Maartens show. It was deep cream velvet, cut to look simple, a narrow sheath with a slit up one side and a slashed neckline front and back whose narrow opening reached almost to her waist. It had no ornament, depending upon purity of line and suppleness of material for its attractiveness. Her hair she dressed in a knot on top of her head, exposing her long, delicate throat and highlighting her face. She might not make a loud statement about her talents in this subtle gown, but she made a clear one. Shoes and bag of the cream velvet completed her ensemble. Fortified, Lauren went back up to the Royal Court Lounge and found her secluded position before most of the passengers arrived.
It was a much dressier group than that which had attended Janus’s showing that afternoon. The women sparkled and flashed with jewels. There were bright and also deep rich colors. Lauren noted a number of taffeta dresses, and silently condoled the wearers who would emerge from nearly two hours’ sitting down in a cramped space looking crumpled and squashed.
The show began exactly on time and proceeded with the smooth suavity of all Maartens’ productions. The audience, much more restrained than the Janus admirers murmured politely and applauded with gloved hands. Just before the final number—evening gowns and coats—Maartens himself appeared. He introduced the cruise director, Maida Hass, who announced the selection of judges. These were requested to stand upon the mention of their names. There were two women and one man. The first woman was Lady Winston-Bell. Quite a susurrus followed the announcement of her name, and a polite round of applause greeted her as she stood. The second woman was Mrs. Claire Lexington Cornelius, a socialite and respected member of an old