Men tended to look after her. She tended not to stop them.
Kay made a point of sitting next to Lamb one evening. It didn’t take long before they were sharing a bottle and a joke.
Eva became visibly distraught at this new alliance. It was excruciating for Valmont to see the way she tried to drag Lamb away or interject herself between them. This was no longer an act, he was sure. Suddenly Eva circled the tables like a gadfly; hung on Lamb’s arm, tried to lure him on to the dance floor or into another room.
The tension between them was palpable. One evening Valmont heard them arguing in hushed, angry whispers on the terrace before supper.
‘You promised!’ Eva’s tone was vehement.
‘I never said I was willing to go that far. Never!’
‘She likes you. It will be easy.’
‘And what about me? What if I don’t like her?’
‘Do I have to remind you how far I’ve gone for you?’ Her voice turned vicious. ‘How much I sacrificed? Don’t tell me you can’t remember!’
‘Dorsey, don’t!’
‘There are only two people I hate in this world. And she’s one of them!’
There was a taut silence. ‘I did what was best. It was best for all concerned. Eva, please . . .’
Her voice caught. ‘Don’t touch me! And don’t fail me! And don’t ever pretend to know what is best again. I’ve kept my side of the bargain and it’s time you kept yours.’
She ran in through the open French doors, eyes blinded with tears, past the entrance to the dining room which was filling up for the last dinner service.
When Lamb came in to supper, he looked tired and visibly shaken.
He drank more than usual that night.
Only he didn’t do it alone.
Dorsey was out of her league. When a woman like Kay Waverley took you on over a man, you were done for. It was the scandal of the season and all of Monte Carlo agreed; poor little Dorsey wasn’t handling it well.
One night, right in the middle of the piazza in front of the Grand Casino, she confronted Lamb as he escorted Waverley to her car.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She grabbed his arm.
‘Dorsey, stop it!’ He pulled away. ‘Go back to the hotel, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Not without you.’
Kay had stepped aside. She knew when to play the star and when to slip into a supporting role. ‘I can make my own way.’ She waved to the valet. ‘After all, I don’t need a babysitter.’
‘I said go back to the hotel!’ Lamb hissed to Eva.
Kay’s silver Bentley pulled up and Kay slid into the driver’s seat.
‘Not without you!’ Dorsey’s voice had reached fever pitch. She was pathetic, clinging to him.
‘Damn it! Leave me alone.’ He gave her a shove.
She stumbled backwards, almost falling.
‘Don’t! I’m warning you,’ she threatened.
A small crowd was gathering, clusters of well-dressed patrons, spilling out of the casino, eager to watch the drama unfold.
‘Stop making a scene.’ Lamb regarded her with unveiled disdain.
Kay rolled down the window. ‘Hey sailor, can I drop you somewhere?’
‘Yes,’ he decided firmly, ‘as a matter of fact, you can.’
Kay opened the door and moved over into the passenger seat. ‘In that case, you can drive. A man’s place is behind the wheel.’
Lamb climbed in and she curled up next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘Maybe we should do some skinny dipping of our own. What do you think?’
She laughed as the car pulled off, making its way up the winding streets to the villa on the hillside. And Dorsey, humiliated and sobbing, ran off alone into the dark narrow streets.
‘Didn’t you hear? She made the most ridiculous scene last night.’
Valmont was sitting at breakfast across from the Lyonesse Sisters. Both widows in their seventies, they came to Monte Carlo every year at the same time; a permanent feature of the social hierarchy. Their father had owned the Lyon Sugar factory and so they were known by their maiden name and considerable fortune.
‘She’s a pretty girl.’
‘A very pretty girl,’ the other agreed.
‘But she’s out of her depth.’
‘Completely.’
‘Kay Waverley is a woman of the world. And so is Lord Lambert.’
‘Lord?’ Valmont looked up, surprised. ‘I didn’t know he was titled.’
‘He never uses it. But we know all about him – we know his father, in fact. But young Dorsey made such a scene.’ The old woman sighed, stirring an extra lump of her family’s sugar into her coffee. ‘And that will never do.’
‘Not the way to impress a man like Lamb,’ her sister surmised. ‘Shouting, grabbing at him.’