The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters #6) - Lucinda Riley Page 0,46

ex-fiancé paraded his rich Chicago beauty around the Waldorf Astoria ballroom in front of the crème de la crème of New York society. But her mother was right: she may be many things, but she wasn’t a coward.

‘Okay, Mama,’ she sighed. ‘You win.’

‘That’s my girl! I’ll get Evelyn to bring in your gown, sort out your hair and run you a bath. You smell less than fragrant, honey.’

‘Gee, thanks, Mama,’ Cecily shrugged. ‘I’ll need some more champagne,’ she called as Dorothea left the bedroom. ‘Buckets of it!’ Then she grimaced as she put her bookmark in The Great Gatsby, shaking her head at this ridiculous notion that love – and a big mansion – could conquer everything.

Cecily had both. And she knew it couldn’t.

The good news was that the ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria was so vast it felt like you had to walk the Oregon Trail to get to the other side. A dazzling chandelier hung from the high recessed ceiling, and lights glittered in the balconies that ringed the room. The murmur of conversation and laughter was muted by the plush red carpet, and musicians were tuning up on a bandstand that had been constructed at one end of the room, with a gleaming parquet dance floor in front of it. The adjacent dining tables were immaculately set with fine linen, bone china, sparkling crystal and ornate flower arrangements. A waiter appeared at her side with a tray of champagne flutes and Cecily grasped one in her sweating palm.

Everyone who was anyone in New York was there, of course. The jewels on the women alone could surely buy a country big enough to house the hundreds of thousands of poor in this great nation, Cecily thought as she found her place card at one of the tables and sat down. She was glad she was facing a wall rather than staring into the abyss of wealth and imminent humiliation behind her, and trying, even though she knew she shouldn’t, to spot Jack and Patricia . . .

‘Just look who’s here, darling!’

Cecily glanced up and found herself staring into the limpid eyes of one of New York society’s most renowned beauties: Kiki Preston. As she was embraced in a hug, Cecily noticed how her godmother’s pupils seemed to be dilated, like huge dark orbs encircled by the halo of her irises.

‘Sweet girl! Your mama has told me about your travails . . . But no matter, there are plenty more where he came from.’ Kiki winked at Cecily. Then, grasping the back of Cecily’s chair, she swayed a little as she sank down into the one next to it, before producing an ivory cigarette holder and lighting up.

Cecily hadn’t seen her godmother for years – at a guess, not since she was twelve or thirteen – and she could only gaze in admiration at the woman whom her mother confided had once had a liaison with a prince in line to the English throne. She knew Kiki had been living in Africa for many years, yet her skin was still as pale and luminous as the strands of pearls that graced her slender throat, setting off the fluid lines of the backless Chanel gown she was wearing. Her dark hair was swept up off her face, highlighting the exquisite cheekbones and high forehead that framed her mesmerising green eyes.

‘Isn’t it just wonderful to see your godmother after all this time?’ Dorothea enthused. ‘Kiki, you should have let me know you were coming to Manhattan and I’d have held a party for you.’

‘More like a wake,’ Kiki muttered, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. ‘So many deaths . . . I’ve been here to see lawyers . . .’

‘I know, my darling.’ Dorothea sat down on the other side of Kiki and grasped her hand. ‘It’s been such a terrible time for you in the past few years.’

As Cecily watched her mother comfort the exotic creature next to her, for the first time in days, she felt an ironic modicum of hope for her own life. She knew that Kiki had lost a number of relatives, including her husband Jerome, in a string of tragic circumstances. Given that Cecily thought Kiki – even though she must be around forty – the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, her godmother was the living embodiment of the fact that beauty did not necessarily bring happiness.

‘Who are you sitting with for dinner?’ she heard Dorothea ask Kiki.

‘I have absolutely no idea, but they’re