Burkes face turned dull red. His nostrils flared like a bull's and his chest puffed out. Mason intervened with diplomatic grace.
«Would you care for a drink, Serena?»
«Gin and tonic, please,» she said with a sweet smile, resisting the urge to lick a finger and chalk up a point for herself.
«Coming right up. And can I freshen that scotch for you, Len?»
Frowning, Burke followed him across the room to the antique sideboard that served as bar and liquor cabinet. Serena took the brief moment of solitude to survey the room. It looked exactly as it always had- taupe walls trimmed in soft white, faded Oriental carpets over a polished wood floor, heavy red brocade drapes flanking the French doors that led onto the gallery. The furniture was too formal to invite relaxation. It was a room Gifford never set foot in unless forced. He called it a place for entertaining people he didn't really like. How appropriate that they were gathering here, Serena thought as her gaze wandered over the people assembling for dinner.
Mason was already looking the part of the junior senator in a crisp shirt and tie and dark slacks, not quite as rumpled or distracted as he usually seemed. He made harmless small talk as he dug ice cubes from the bucket with tiny tongs. She had never thought about it before, but he would probably make a successful politician with his mild good looks and genteel manner.
Burke, in spite of the expensive cut of his suit, struck her as a man who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. He had the predatory air of a man who had clawed his way up to his present status and had no intention of going back down. He wore a gawdy diamond pinky ring and a boulder-sized chunk of turquoise on a bolo tie, flaunting the rewards of his labors like a warrior brandishing the trophies of battle.
Serena hadn't liked what she'd seen of him at Gifford's, and her instincts were telling her not to like anything about him tonight, but she tried to be objective. It wasn't a fatal character flaw for a man to be vulgar or pompous or sexist, and she had to admit he'd had a right to his temper of the day before-Gifford had been shooting at him, after all. Still, there was something about him that made her uncomfortable. Something about his narrow eyes and the set of his mouth. Gifford had said the man wouldn't take no for an answer. Serena wondered what lengths he might be willing to go to to achieve his objective.
Shelby breezed in from the hall then, resplendent in an ultrafeminine dress done in a dark English-garden print with a square ivory lace collar and a flowing skirt. Her hair was neatly confined in an old-fashioned ecru snood that perfectly completed the picture of refined southern womanhood. The scent of Opium drifted around her in a fragrant cloud.
«Mr. Burke! How delightful to see you again!» She preened and sparkled, treating him to her most flirtatious smile as she came forward and offered him her hand.
«It's a pleasure, as always, Mrs. Talbot,» Burke said, treating her to the same once-over he had Serena. «I've just had the chance to meet your lovely sister as well.»
Shelby's smile tightened as she shot a look at Serena. «You're looking a little better tonight, Serena. Not quite as haggard as before.»
«Why, thank you,» Serena said, fighting a wry smile. She accepted her drink from Mason and sipped it, enjoying the bite of the gin a little more than she probably should have. This crowd was enough to drive anybody to drink. The room hummed with undercurrents.
«I've just been down to the kitchen to check on things,» Shelby said, batting her lashes at the big Texan. «We're having a lovely ham. I do hope you like ham, Mr. Burke. Our Odille's ham gravy is simply sinful!»
«What happened to the crown roast?» Serena questioned innocently.
Shelby flashed her a dark look. «That didn't work out as I'd hoped.»
«Pity.»
«Well, now,» Mason said expansively. «We're just waiting on Lamar and then we can go in.»
Shelby pouted, stirring the swizzle stick of the drink her husband handed her. «That doddering old fool. I don't understand why Gifford retains that man. It's an embarrassment that he won't let his own grandson-in-law handle his legal affairs.»
«Now, Shelby,» Mason cajoled. «Lamar has been Gifford's attorney since God was a child. I certainly wouldn't expect him to dissolve an old loyalty like that.»
«Well, I would,» Shelby said, fussing with one pearl earring. «What must people think? That he doesn't trust you to handle his affairs? It's disgraceful. I only hope it doesn't have an adverse affect on your campaign.»
Mason smiled at her benignly. «I'm not concerned about it, darlin.' Don't you be.»
«I'm sure securing new jobs for the community will more than outweigh it, Mrs. Talbot,» Burke said smugly, swirling the ice in his glass. «Bringing industry to a stagnant economy could take Mason here a long, long way.»
«Aren't you forgetting something, Mr. Burke?» Serena said mildly. «Our grandfather has no intention of selling his property to Tristar.»
Burke flushed again, his eyes narrowing. Shelby shot daggers at her sister with her eyes. Mason flashed a big politician's smile and said, «I do believe I hear Lamar's old Mercedes coming up the drive.»
Lamar Canfield was eighty if he was a day, a southern gentleman lawyer from the old school. He was a small, neat man with large dark eyes and thin white hair that now grew only on the sides of his head. He was dressed meticulously in a blue seersucker suit and starched white shirt with a jaunty striped bow tie at his throat and a fine Panama hat in his hands.
«Shelby! How good it is to see you again!» he said, beaming a smile as he came forward with the grace of Fred Astaire to take Serena's hand and plant a courtly kiss upon her knuckles.
«I'm Serena, Mr. Canfield,» she corrected him gently.
He pulled back, beaming a broad smile, his eyes gleaming with a sparkle that had set more than one female's heart aflutter in his day. «Yes, of course you are, my darling,» he said without missing a beat. «How lovely to have you home for a visit. You don't return often enough, you know,» he chided her, tilting his head in a look of reproach.
Serena couldn't help but smile at him. She had always liked Lamar. He was all flirtation and show and he had the voice of a snake-oil salesman-smooth and exaggerated, rising and falling dramatically. He displayed all the airs and mannerisms of a completely charming charlatan, all presented with a twinkle of amusement in his dark eyes that suggested he didn't take himself or anyone else too seriously.
«How doubly fortunate for us gentlemen to have the company of both our lovely Sheridan ladies,» he said, turning and bowing to Shelby, who regarded him with wary petulance, for once not swayed by a compliment. He straightened and turned his hat in his hands, directing his attention toward Serena once again.
«Are you back to stay, perchance, Serena? Heaven knows there is an abundance of warped minds in the immediate area. You could certainly keep yourself entertained.»
«No,» Serena said a bit hesitantly. «I'm just here for a visit, I'm afraid.»
Lamar looked at her speculatively from under his lashes and clucked his tongue.
Mason stepped forward. «Lamar, you've met Mr. Burke from Tristar, if you'll recall.»
«Yes… of course,» Lamar drawled, dragging the words out and letting them trail away as if they pained him. «You're that man from Texas, aren't you?» He pronounced it takes-us, though whether he had done so as a deliberate slight or whether it was simply his extravagant drawl was impossible to tell.
Burke gave him a stony look, rattling the ice in his scotch.
Odille slipped into the room then and cast a baleful glare over them all as she announced dinner.
«Odille, my love!» Lamar said brightly. «Charming as ever. Tell me what I might be able to do to entice you away from Gifford s employ.»