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Her
breathing was so uneven, it caught at her throat in sharp gasps.
Nerves. She was getting upset. And that was bad, because tonight she
had to be perfect. Calm, and composed, and…She needed something to calm
her nerves.
    Gordon’s study, or—the other place. The most likely
place, and the one room that she could not risk searching. Because the
secretary had arranged with the servants to clean it himself, and there
was no conceivable reason why she should need to enter Jack Briggs’s
private quarters. If anyone found her there—if he found her…
    A long shiver ran through her body. Dropping the last
scarf back into the drawer, she turned and ran across the room, on soft
stockinged feet. The bottle, the comforting, reliable bottle in the
bottom drawer of her dressing table…
    She closed the door and shot the bolt into place—leaving
behind the marks of her feet imprinted as clearly in velvety pile as in
snow, and two drawers standing open, spilling out their contents onto
the floor.

Chapter
3
    WHEN LINDA WOKE, IT WAS GETTING DARK
OUTSIDE. The high windows were gray oblongs; the dim
light within the room reduced furniture and hangings to unfamiliar
menaces.
    She sat up, brushing the strands of hair back from her
face. Her mouth was horribly dry. She reached for the glass of water on
the bedside table and swallowed it down, so grateful for the relief to
parched membranes that she hardly noticed its stale taste. Still fuzzy
with sleep, she didn’t think about the time until her half-closed eyes
lit on the illumined dial of the clock.
    She jumped up from the bed and stood swaying dizzily as
the sluggish blood moved down from her head. Late. It was very late.
She had meant to take extra time over her dressing, to apply makeup
with extra care. She had hoped to speak privately with Andrea before
the others joined them.
    Where the hell was that stupid maid?
    She groped for the buzzer and jabbed it impatiently. She
had just found the light switch when the door burst open. Dazzled,
Linda blinked at her maid.
    “You’re supposed to knock,” she said angrily. “And why
did you let me sleep so long? You know I’m late.”
    Anna’s mouth drooped open another inch. She was silent
for a moment, as if trying to decide which criticism to answer first.
    “But, madam, you’ve told me time and again not to bother
you unless you ring. And this time, the bell—it sounded sort of
frantic, and I thought maybe you’d hurt yourself or something—”
    “Oh, shut up,” Linda said. The very reasonableness of the
girl’s defense infuriated her. “Straighten up this mess. Find me
something to wear.”
    With a murmured “Yes, madam,” Anna picked up the shoes
Linda had left in the middle of the floor and carried them to the
dressing room.
    From where she stood, Linda could see the far wall of the
dressing room, which was one huge mirror, polished to shining
perfection. Out of its depths, another Anna advanced briskly to meet
the one who was entering the room. The identical twin figures were an
uncanny sight; but Linda paid no attention to that, or to the
expression on the mirrored face, which had relaxed when Anna thought
herself no longer under observation. Part of the bedroom was reflected
in the mirror, and it was, as she had said, a mess. She had thrown
herself down on the bed without turning back the spread; the satin
surface was wrinkled and ugly, with a dark spot near the pillow where
her mouth had rested. Her gardening clothes, which she had changed
before lunch, lay in crumpled heaps on the floor. Beside the bed, as if
fallen from a nerveless hand, was an empty bottle.
    Linda gaped at it in vague surprise. Had she really
finished the whole bottle? Surely this one had been almost full when
she took it out of the drawer.
    She shoved it aside with her foot, wrinkling her nose at
the sour reek of spilled liquor. Her tweed skirt was twisted and her
right stocking marred by a run. There were stains on the front of