Read Online London Tides: A Novel (The MacDonald Family Trilogy Book 2) by Carla Laureano - Free Book Online

decorated the white-robed tables.
    “Seems strange to have all this luxury to raise money for children who are dying of disease and starvation.”
    He dipped his head to speak low into her ear. “You don’t think this actually costs five hundred quid a person, do you? Besides, it’s always good to show donors the lives of the less fortunate when they’re wearing four-thousand-pound suits.”
    “Like you?” Grace raised an eyebrow, taking him in from head to toe in a way that didn’t at all feel complimentary.
    Ian rested his hand on her back long enough to steer her toward a table near the front of the room. “You know, Grace, we aren’t all heartless bastards. Some of us actually feel our success gives us an obligation to those without the same opportunities.”
    Grace looked embarrassed. “I’ve lived lean for so long, all this makes me uncomfortable.”
    “I know. That’s why CAF needs you. I meant what I said, Grace. You would bring something valuable to the organization.”
    Surprise lit her expression, but he purposely didn’t look at her as they approached the table. Of course, the only two chairs left were next to each other. She unbuttoned her jacket when she sat, and he automatically helped her out of it, hanging it on the back of her chair. The skimpy back of her sequined top revealed a pink-and-white peony inked above her right shoulder blade. He barely restrained himself from brushing a finger across it. That was new. Given Grace’s propensity for symbolism, what did it represent?
    Artfully shaped eyebrows lifted at the sight of Grace’s tattoos, but the women quickly masked their expressions. He wondered if that were the reason she’d chosen to remove her jacket in the chilly ballroom, a sort of litmus test for the board’s tolerance for unconventionality.
    Ian settled beside her and made the introductions of the wives and daughters sitting with the board members she’d already met. When he got to the man sitting on Grace’s other side, a French doctor named André Marchal, he realized he should have switched their seats. Marchal immediately took Grace’s hand with a brilliant smile.
    “ Enchanté .”
    “ Tout le plaisir est pour moi ,” Grace replied immediately with a nod.
    “Ah, you speak French so beautifully. Do you spend much time in France?”
    The doctor’s gaze never wavered from Grace. The slow flicker of irritation built in Ian’s chest. Marchal was always charming—and perpetually bored, it seemed—so the intense interest in his expression was doubly disturbing.
    Ian casually laid his arm across the back of her chair as he leaned forward. “I understand Grace lives part of the year in Paris. Is that right?”
    She gave him a puzzled smile. “I’m based in Paris, yes, though I spend very little time there. Most of this past year I worked in the Middle East.”
    “Ah, very nice.” Dr. Marchal gave a vague smile and a nod toward Ian, as if to acknowledge that he’d made his point. “I hope you spend the best part in France. Our winters can be so dreary.”
    Ian leaned back, but he didn’t remove his arm.
    Grace reached for her water glass and took a sip before she murmured to him, “Are you quite done?”
    He leaned over to murmur in her ear, “Not even close. Marchal is—”
    “I know what Marchal is. I live in France, remember?” She pulled away and gave him an amused smile as if he’d said something funny. Oh, Grace might pretend like she didn’t fit in with this group, but she played the game better than any of them.
    “So, Ms. Brennan.” Kenneth DeVries caught her eye over the elaborate centerpiece. “Henry tells me you’ve had the chance to look over our most recent publications. I’d like to hear what you think.”
    “They’re very well produced.”
    It was a diplomatic answer, and DeVries’s smile said he knew it. “I get the impression you don’t believe that’s a good thing.”
    When Grace hesitated, Ian finally dropped his arm from the