Lies and Weddings(135)

Peter looked taken aback. “The situation’s changed. With you in charge my sister’s not going to be running things into the ground anymore.”

“Rufus is going to be in charge. What did you call him again? The damned fool. Yes, talk to the damned fool about it. I’m just a doctor,” Eden said as she turned away.

Meanwhile, the other doctor in the room, Thomas Tong, was cutting up the dance floor with Martha Dung, who wore a long ivory cashmere sweater dress with gold sneakers.

“I love that you’re the only one here not wearing a ball gown,” Thomas said as he whirled her around the room.

“This is my palazzo, I get to wear what I want. I’m wearing Brunello because it’s comfortable, and I can actually dance in these shoes. Especially when I have to keep up with the likes of you, Mr. Astaire!”

“Can I share a secret?”

“Please do.”

“If life had turned out differently, I might have become a competitive ballroom dancer.”

“No kidding? I guess it’s true what they say…still waters run deep.”

“I hear you’re going to be embarking on a new venture with Rufus and Eden?”

“I hope so.”

Thomas hesitated for a moment before asking, “I do hope that means you’ll be frequenting Greshamsbury more?”

“Only if you promise to take me dancing,” Martha said, smiling coquettishly.

Standing by the buffet in the immense reception hall next to the ballroom was a stiff-looking couple in their seventies. The white-haired husband in the frayed navy corduroy jacket bore a slight resemblance to Robert Redford, while his perfectly coiffed wife surveyed the chafing dishes in dismay.

“I see where your eyes are. Don’t you dare touch that fettucine, Putter. It will clog your arteries in an instant and you shall drop dead in a country that doesn’t accept Medicare Part B,” his wife, Penelope, said.

“But don’t you love that film Death in Venice?” Putter popped a prosciutto-wrapped bocconcini quickly in his mouth when she wasn’t looking.

“It has nothing to do with being made a widow in Venice. It’s about an old man who’s obsessed with a beautiful small boy. Now, you are allowed one white asparagus tip.”

Putter quickly scooped three stalks onto his plate as he hovered over the truffle risotto longingly. His wife looked across the crowded room, shaking her head. “Who are these people? Wid said he was marrying a proper English girl, and all these people look so…international. Look at that lady with those terribly vulgar mothball-sized pearls. There’s no way those are real.”

“Pen, I think they are all from China. Wid said his bride was half Chinese.”

“Oh look, here comes one of them. Ni hao,” Pen said with a tight smile.

Arabella smiled back at the Giacometti-thin lady. “I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t speak a word of Mandarin,” she said in a tone so posh it would have made Princess Anne blush. “You must be the parents of Gopal Das. I am Arabella Gresham, Beatrice’s mother.”

“Ah, you’re the countess! I’m Penelope Phipps Cabot, and this is my husband, Putter. We call our son Wid.”

“Wid! That’s what I shall call him too from now on. I thought Wid looked positively dashing tonight,” Arabella said, noticing that his mother didn’t look half-bad in her Carolina Herrera black polka-dot silk button-front gown and double-strand pearl choker.

Penelope rolled her eyes. “If only he had dropped that damn turban into the lagoon. You realize we brought him up as a Methodist?”

“It would have been nice for once to see his hair,” Arabella said diplomatically.

“The red hair comes from Pen’s side,” Putter said, mouth full of fettucine. “We think someone screwed one of the Irish maids a few generations back.”

Penelope clamped her eyes shut for a moment, too mortified for words.

Arabella leaned in conspiratorially. “You know, my husband is just like yours. Says whatever is on his mind, and loves his sweets.”

Pen spun around in horror to see her husband stuffing his face with rum-soaked chocolate cake. “Putter! You’ll fall into a diabetic coma!” Putter immediately spat the cake onto his plate, and Pen continued without missing a beat. “Now, your Beatrice is lovely. I never in my life dreamed that Wid would marry someone as beautiful and well brought up as her. I always feared he was going to disgrace ten generations of Cabots and Phippses and end up with some vegan who didn’t shave her armpits!”

Arabella laughed heartily for the first time in a long while. “Mrs. Cabot, may I introduce you to my dear friend the Countess of Carnarvon?”

“I’d be delighted. I had the pleasure of visiting Highclere many years ago, when the dowager countess was still alive,” Penelope said as the two women walked off together.

After the flurry of reunions, Rufus and Eden at last found a moment to themselves on the dance floor. “This is nice, isn’t it?” Eden said, closing her eyes as Rufus rocked her slowly in his arms.

“It’s one of the only weddings I’ve ever enjoyed, mainly because of this moment,” Rufus said as he pulled her even closer.

“Most weddings aren’t any fun. Most people go through so much fuss and spend so much money and almost kill themselves just for one day.”