SeventeenThe Countess picked up the silver coffee pot with an enameled coat of arms on the lid and held it aloft. “Can I freshen your cup?”
The voice was velvet and well-modulated, her wrist as she offered refreshment was poised at the appropriate elegant angle, and yet there was no stiff formality about the gesture.
Leilani thrust the bone-china cup and saucer toward her, momentarily forgetting her manners in her thirst for more.
She had been in Elizabeth Wenderhoven’s Queen Anne villa on Nob Hill for less than an hour, but she already felt as if they’d known each other for years.
Approaching up the broad front steps she’d swallowed nervously at the house’s grandeur. The big round tower on one corner, the wide front gable, expansive verandas and iron-fretted roofline gave it an exotic
