Lies and Weddings(54)

“It takes two to tango, and Eden’s actually quite pretty.”

Arabella looked at Rosina in surprise. “How can you say that? That common little face, she looks like she should be running a stall in Mong Kok selling fake Gucci bags.”

“Who was the girl’s mother again?”

“I have no idea. Some Chinese nobody from Vancouver. Thomas met her in America and was too ashamed to ever show her off back home, from what I heard.”

“He never brought her back home to Hong Kong, did he?”

“No, she died before he could do that. He moved to Greshamsbury with Eden to escape his grief.”

“And now Rufus is in love with Eden.”

“There’s no way he’s really in love with her! It’s just a momentary infatuation, and you can be sure I will put a stop to anything going further.”

“You must. I personally have nothing against the girl, but it’s out of the question for Rufus to be involved with her. It would be such a waste of those bedroom eyes.”

“Shush! My son does not have bedroom eyes.”

“Arabella, come on. Let’s be honest here. Rufus is…how to put it politely…sex on a stick.”

“Shut your mouth!” Arabella looked scandalized for a second, before collapsing into giggles.

“Don’t try to deny it. Now, what you need to do is exploit Rufus properly, and all your problems will be solved. Rufus must marry money!”

“If only he would! But who? I had dossiers done on so many candidates, and we narrowed it down to Solène.”

“Tell me, did you ever consider an Asian family?”

Arabella winced a little. “I didn’t.”

“That, in a nutshell, is your problem. You’ve been so focused on marrying off your children to the debilitated descendants of Victoria and Albert that you’ve forgotten where all the action really is nowadays: Asia. You need to put aside your snobbery and consider how many desperate Asian mothers there are who would gladly pay billions to have Rufus’s genes populating future generations of their family.”

“You really think so?”

“His brow ridges alone could command half a billion.[*4] Leave it to me, I’m going to find the perfect someone for Rufus. I just need to flip through my little black book. Kit! Kit!”

Rosina’s assistant came rushing out onto the terrace.

“Where’s my little black book?”

“Right here,” Kit said, ceremoniously handing Rosina a black leather desk planner diary.[*5] Rosina began flipping through the pages and muttering to herself: “Too young…too old…too fat…this one just got engaged…this one is a they now…oh, wait a minute—” Rosina looked up from her book with a gleam in her eye. “I think I know just the girl. Why didn’t I think of her before? Vicky’s daughter, Martha!”

Arabella eyed Rosina suspiciously. “How old is this Martha?”

“She’s young enough.”

“She’s older than him, isn’t she? No one under the age of sixty is named Martha.”

“Her mother was a dancer. She was obsessed with Martha Graham.”

“Is she pretty?”

Rosina paused for a moment. She knew she mustn’t mention the tattoos. “Does it matter? I realize you may have been a model, but there are more important things in life than looks, you know.”

“You just told me I brought beauty back to the Gresham family. I know my son. Rufus didn’t even fall for Solène, and she looks like a goddess. What makes you think he’ll have any interest in an older not-so-pretty woman named Martha?”

“Because it’s Martha Dung.”

“Her name is Martha Dung? Never in a million years will Ru—”

“Arabella, if you want me to help you, you need to promise me two things…”

“What?”

“First of all, you need to shut up and trust me.”

“Of course I will, but—”

“Second, you will not interfere. I’m doing things my way, do you understand?”

“Hiyah, okay,” Arabella said reluctantly.

“Tell me, where is the boy now?”

“He’s on his way home to Greshamsbury on one of your planes,” Arabella answered.

“Kit! Kit! Find out which plane Rufus is on,” Rosina called out.

Kit stood at the doorway, peering at her iPad. “He’s on Adam’s Citation. It’s scheduled to land at Exeter in two hours.”

“Call the pilot and have the plane diverted to Paris.”

Arabella looked alarmed. “Don’t do that! He’ll be furious when he sees us.”

“What makes you think you’ll be involved? Kit, please cancel my plans going forward.”

“Even your dinner with Madame Deneuve?”

“Catherine will forgive me. We have a family emergency!”




Skip Notes

*1 “Who is this?” in Cantonese.



*2 J. M. W. Turner’s auction high is $47.6 million, achieved at Sotheby’s London in December 2014 for Rome, from Mount Aventine, painted in 1835, while David Hockney’s 1972 Portrait of an Artist (Pool with Two Figures) sold at Christie’s New York for $90.3 million. The lesson here, all you young artists, is to be British and to auction your work in New York. The accent always helps raise the prices, as does including a parenthesis in the title of your work.