Helmut Eckherdt proffered his hand to Reeves Grant and exclaimed, “Mr. Grant, I’ve barely seen you since your arrival. I hope you have accommodated yourself with food and drink.” His smile was startling in his handsome face, and he was totally unaware of the tension between the photographer and Jordan.
“Thank you, Mr. Eckherdt. I’ve been enjoying myself immensely. More so each minute.” Reeves’s eyes slid over to Jordan, who was standing stoic and pale beside Helmut.
“Oh, excuse me, darling,” Helmut apologized, and tucked her arm under his. “Mr. Reeves Grant, may I present Mrs. Jordan Hadlock. She is a citizen of your country, but not for long, I hope.”
Helmut smiled adoringly down into Jordan’s tight white face as she offered her hand for Reeves to shake. He didn’t take her hand immediately. He paused momentarily. The blood rushed to her head and she felt dizzy. Her mouth went dry. Surely he wouldn’t say anything about last night! He wouldn’t be that callous. Slowly, his hand came up and reached for hers. His fingers wrapped around hers tightly and he shook her hand.
“A pleasure, Mrs. Hadlock,” he said silkily.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“You will be seeing a lot of Reeves—may I call you Reeves?—for the next several days, my dear,” Helmut said. “He is doing a feature on me for an American magazine. He is a photojournalist.”
“I’m familiar with Mr. Grant’s work,” Jordan said quietly. She bravely raised her eyes to meet the bold green ones glaring at her. “I saw your piece on the IRA in Time. It was comprehensive and interesting. You handled a very delicate subject realistically but with compassion.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hadlock. I thought that this time I’d work on a less depressing topic. I was most eager to meet Mr. Eckherdt. I think the American public will love an article about one of the world’s most affluent men.”
“I would like for Jordan to be included in the article, Reeves. As a matter of fact, you may want to get your camera ready. In a few minutes I’ll be making public our engagement.”
Jordan whirled to face him. “Helmut!” she cried. “Why … why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted it to be a surprise.” His teeth flashed whitely in a dazzling smile. “And if I had told you, you would have thought up another excuse to postpone the inevitable. You will become Mrs. Eckherdt, my darling. It’s only a matter of time. Have you or have you not consented to marry me?”
On a recent excursion to Zermatt, she had wearily consented to think about marrying him after hours of his playful badgering. She had planned to broach the subject at a later time and reasonably explain to him that she wasn’t ready to marry again. But the time had never been right and now he was going to make official their tentative engagement with an announcement. And Reeves! God, could this be happening?
The beautiful gown, which Helmut had insisted on buying her for this reception, was suddenly constricting. The room was too crowded. The champagne she had drunk seemed to be boiling in her stomach and threatening to come back up. Her head was pounding. And all the while Reeves was standing close and staring at her malevolently.
Jordan felt detached from the scene as she watched Helmut call everyone’s attention to them. Gradually, conversations were hushed, heads were turned, plates of sumptuous food were set aside, as the guests politely turned toward their host.
“I’m sure that most of you have met Jordan by now. It is with pleasure I tell you tonight that she is soon to become my wife.” A rumble of reaction rolled toward them. The women looked at her with envy, the men with appreciation; some, selfishly more concerned with their own private love affairs, seemed only blandly interested.
Jordan recoiled from their staring eyes. Trancelike, she obliged him when Helmut pulled her into his arms and kissed her chastely on the lips. She was aware of a camera flashing on them. Reeves was taking pictures of her kissing another man.
Helmut was speaking again. “To seal our engagement, I want to present Jordan with this ring.” From his pocket he extracted a velvet ring box and flipped it open. He took out a platinum ring on which was mounted the largest, most tastelessly ostentatious emerald-cut diamond Jordan had ever seen. He picked up her clammy, limp left hand and slid the ring on her third finger. It felt as heavy as a ball and chain. She looked up at him and smiled sickly. The camera flashed repeatedly.
She wanted to turn on Reeves and scream at him to stop. This wasn’t real. None of this mattered or had any bearing on what had happened last night, but the flash on the camera was persistent. The crowd undulated toward her to extend their congratulations and view the diamond on her hand.