The Art of Deception

fifteen minutes, he was separated from Kirby and bored to death.
    “I’ve decided to take a trek through the Australian bush,” Harriet told Kirby. She fingered her necklace of crocodile teeth. “I’d love you to come with me. We’d have such fun brewing a billy cup over the fire.”
    “Camping?” Kirby asked, mulling it over. Maybe what she needed was a change of scene, after her father settled down.
    “Give it some thought,” Harriet suggested. “I’m not planning on leaving for another six weeks. Ah, Adam.” Reaching out, she grabbed his arm. “Did Agnes Birmingham drive you to drink? No, don’t answer. It’s written all over your face, but you’re much too polite.”
    He allowed himself to be drawn between her and Kirby, where he wanted to be. “Let’s just say I was looking for more stimulating conversation. I’ve found it.”

    “Charming.” She decided she liked him, but would reserve judgment a bit longer as to whether he’d suit her Kirby. “I admire your work, Adam. I’d like to put the first bid in on your next painting.”
    He took glasses from a passing waiter. “I’m doing a portrait of Kirby.”
    “She’s posing for you?” Harriet nearly choked on her champagne. “Did you chain her?”
    “Not yet.” He gave Kirby a lazy glance. “It’s still a possibility.”
    “You have to let me display it when it’s finished.” She might’ve been a woman who ran on emotion on many levels, but the bottom line was art, and the business of it. “I can promise to cause a nasty scene if you refuse.”
    “No one does it better,” Kirby toasted her.
    “You’ll have to see the portrait of Kirby that Philip painted for me. She wouldn’t sit for it, but it’s brilliant.” She toyed with the stem of her glass. “He painted it when she returned from Paris—three years ago, I suppose.”
    “I’d like to see it. I’d planned on coming by the gallery.”
    “Oh, it’s here, in the library.”
    “Why don’t you two just toddle along then?” Kirby suggested. “You’ve been talking around me, you might as well desert me physically, as well.”
    “Don’t be snotty,” Harriet told her. “You can come, too. And I… Well, well,” she murmured in a voice suddenly lacking in warmth. “Some people have no sense of propriety.”
    Kirby turned her head, just slightly, and watched Stuart walk into the room. Her fingers tightened on the glass, but she shrugged. Before the movement was complete, Melanie was at her side.

    “I’m sorry, Kirby. I’d hoped he wouldn’t come after all.”
    In a slow, somehow insolent gesture, Kirby pushed her hair behind her back. “If it had mattered, I wouldn’t have come.”
    “I don’t want you to be embarrassed,” Melanie began, only to be cut off by a quick and very genuine laugh.
    “When have you ever known me to be embarrassed?”
    “Well, I’ll greet him, or it’ll make matters worse.” Still, Melanie hesitated, obviously torn between loyalty and manners.
    “I’ll fire him, of course,” Harriet mused when her daughter went to do her duty. “But I want to be subtle about it.”
    “Fire him if you like, Harriet, but not on my account.” Kirby drained her champagne.
    “It appears we’re in for a show, Adam.” Harriet tapped a coral fingertip against her glass. “Much to Melanie’s distress, Stuart’s coming over.”
    Without saying a word, Kirby took Adam’s cigarette.
    “Harriet, you look marvelous.” The smooth, cultured voice wasn’t at all like the tone Adam had heard in Fairchild’s studio. “Africa agreed with you.”
    Harriet gave him a bland smile. “We didn’t expect to see you.”
    “I was tied up for a bit.” Charming, elegant, he turned to Kirby. “You’re looking lovely.”
    “So are you,” she said evenly. “It seems your nose is back in joint.” Without missing a beat, she turned to Adam. “I don’t believe you’ve met. Adam, this is Stuart Hiller. I’m sure you know Adam Haines’s work, Stuart.”
    “Yes, indeed.” The handshake was polite and meaningless. “Are you staying in our part of New York long?”
    “Until I finish Kirby’s portrait,” Adam told him and had the dual satisfaction of seeing Kirby grin and Stuart frown. “I’ve agreed to let Harriet display it in the gallery.”
    With that simple strategy, Adam won Harriet over.
    “I’m sure it’ll be a tremendous addition to our collection.” Even a man with little sensitivity wouldn’t have missed the waves of