Stone Barrington 06-11

them. Stone had asked for Scotch, thinking they probably wouldn’t have bourbon, and he found it dark and smoky, obviously a single malt. Monica took him through the room, introducing him to everybody. Apparently, the Burroughs sisters, Lance, and Stone were the only Americans present.
    At dinner, Stone was seated between Sarah and her mother, while Monica was relegated to the other end of the very long table. Stone counted thirty diners. The dining room had a high ceiling and much gilt. They had hardly sat down, when someone’s cellphone rang, and a brief hush fell over the table. Lance stood up, blushing, and left the room. A moment later Stone saw him outside the window on the back lawn, pacing up and down in the long English twilight, gesticulating. He wondered what had so upset Lance. When he returned to the table he looked unhappy for a moment, then managed a smile as he resumed his seat.
    “I hate those damned things,” Lady Wight said, stabbing at something on her plate. “Only an American would bring one in to dinner.”
    “Mother, not all Americans are so gauche,” Sarah said, nodding at Stone.
    “Oh, of course not, Stone,” her mother said. “So very sorry.”
    She didn’t sound sorry, Stone thought.

    After dinner, the men left the women at the table and repaired to the library for port and cigars. Stone passed on the cigar but accepted the port with pleasure. He had not drunk enough vintage port in his life to suit him.
    Lance wandered over. “How’s it going?” he asked.
    “Very well,” Stone replied. “Business call at dinner?”
    “In a manner of speaking,” Lance said, flushing, apparently still angry with whoever had called him. “You know about Wight, of course.”
    “Not much.”
    “He’s lucky not to be in prison. An office building he put up collapsed last year, fortunately in the middle of the night, so no one was killed. The incident prompted an inspection of a dozen of his buildings, and it was discovered that a lot of corners had been cut. Cost the old boy a packet of money and a bad bruise on his reputation. I think he was relieved when inheriting the title allowed him to change his name.”
    “Mmmm,” Stone replied, not wanting to comment.
    Half an hour later, the ladies joined them, and everyone talked until past eleven, when people began to drift upstairs to bed.

    Stone had just switched off the light and was settling in when the door opened and someone entered. A moment later, she was in bed with him, her hands searching and finding what she wanted. Stone joined in enthusiastically, and after a few minutes they both came noisily, then collapsed. He was half asleep when she left the bed and went back to her room. Just as well, he thought, since he was exhausted and needed sleep.
    He had just drifted off when she returned to his bed, snuggling up to him.
    “What?” he said sleepily.
    “Sorry I took so long,” Monica said, throwing a leg over his.
    Stone sat straight up in bed. “How long has it been?” he asked.
    “I don’t know; three-quarters of an hour, I suppose. I had a bath.”
    Stone fell back onto the bed, realizing what had happened. “Monica,” he said, “you’re going to have to forgive me. I think I’ve had too much to drink.”
    “Oh, surely I can bring you around,” she said, feeling for him.
    “I’m afraid not,” he said. “I hope you’ll forgive me. Tomorrow is another day.”

    “Oh, all right,” she said grumpily, and went back to her room.
    Stone, before he drifted off again, had the momentary feeling that he was a character in a Feydeau farce.

11
    STONE SLEPT LATER THAN HE INTENDED and was still struggling with the time difference. When he came downstairs for breakfast, nearly everyone had finished. He scraped the last of the scrambled eggs from a silver serving dish and grabbed some bacon and toast.
    He found a leather chair in the library and settled into it. As he started on the eggs, Sarah and her fiancé, James, appeared before him. He struggled to get to his feet, but Sarah motioned him back into his chair.
    “And how are you this fine morning?” she asked, smiling broadly. “I hope you were very comfortable in your bed last night.” She winked, while James looked on, sure that something was going on, but without a clue what.
    Stone choked down a big bite of eggs. “Yes, sure,” he managed to say without spraying her with food.
    “I was certainly very comfortable in bed,” Sarah added