Beloved

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Authors: Diana Palmer
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Historical, Contemporary
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and he's giving her hell, as usual, even flat on his back," he said curtly.
    “If there's anything I can do..."
    "Thanks for your support. I'm sorry you have to go on
your own. But it's unlikely that Simon will be
there, you know," he added gently.
"Just stick close to Lillian. She'll look out for you."
    She smiled to herself. "I know she will. Let me
know how it goes."
    "Of course I will. See you."
    He hung up. She stared at the phone blankly as she
replaced the receiver. She looked good, she
reasoned. Her black dress was a straight sheath, ankle-length, with
spaghetti straps and a diamond necklace and earrings to set it off. It was a
perfect foil for her pale, flawless
complexion and her red-gold hair, done in a complicated topknot with tendrils just brushing her neck. From her austere get up, she looked more like a widow in
mourning than a woman looking
forward to Christmas, and she felt insecure and nervous. It would be the
first time she'd appeared alone in public
since the scandal and she was still uncomfortable around most people.
    Well,
she comforted herself as she went outside and climbed into her Jaguar, at least she didn't have to add Simon to her other complications tonight.
    The gallery was packed full of interested customers,
some of whom had probably only come for curiosity's sake. It wasn't hard

 

    204
    Beloved
    to discern people who could afford the
four-figure price tags on the sculptures from
those who couldn't. Tira pretended not to no- tice . She took a flute of expensive champagne and downed half of it before she went with Lillian to mingle with the
guests.
    It didn't help that the first two people she saw were
Simon and Jill.
    “ Oh, God," she
ground out through her teeth, only too aware of the reporters and their sudden interest in him. "Why did he have to come?!"
    Lillian took her arm gently. "Don't let him know that
it bothers you. Smile, girl! We'll get through
this."
    "Do you think so?"
    She plastered a cool smile to her lips as Simon pulled
Jill along with him and came to a halt just in
front of the two women.
    "Nice crowd," he told Tira ,
his eyes slowly going over her exquisite figure in
the close-fitting dress with unusual interest.
    "A few art fans and a lot of rubberneckers, hadn't
you no ticed?" Tira said, sipping more champagne. Her fingers trembled a little and she held the flute with both hands, something Simon's keen eyes picked up on at once.
    "Nice of you to come by," Lillian
said quietly.
    He glanced at her. "It would have been noticeable if
I hadn't, considering that I own half the gallery." His attention turned
back to Tira and his silvery eyes narrowed. "All
alone? Where's your fair-haired shadow?"
    She knew he meant Charles. She smiled lazily. "He
couldn't make it."
    "On the first night of your first
exhibition?" he chided.
    She drew in a sharp breath. "His half brother had a
heart attack, if you must know," she said through her teeth. "He's at
the hos pital."
    Simon's eyes flickered strangely. "And you have to
be here, instead of at his side. Pity."
    "He doesn't need comforting. Nessa does."
    Jill, dressed in red again with a
sprig of holly secured with a
    Diana Palmer                                                                           205
    diamond clip in her black hair, moved closer to Simon. “We just stopped in for a peek at your work," she said, almost
purring as she looked up at the tall man beside
her. "We're on our way to the opera."
    Tira averted her eyes. She loved opera. Many times in the past, Simon had escorted her during the season. It hurt to
remember how she'd looked forward to those chaste evenings with him.
    "I don't suppose you go
anymore?" Simon asked coldly.
    She shrugged. "Don't have
time," she said tightly.
    "I noticed. You couldn't even be bothered to phone
and check on me when that lunatic went wild in
the courtroom."
    Tira wouldn't look at him. "You can't hurt someone

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