The name made no sense.
*Evelyn Sterling.*
I stared at the landing, waiting for an older woman whose portrait belonged on a bank’s private letterhead.
Evelyn stepped into the light.
The spotlight followed her to the first stair.
Her face was the one I had seen across the breakfast table for three years. Yet I had never seen her stand under a spotlight while a ballroom waited.
Her brown hair had been set in chestnut waves and pinned away from a necklace of brilliant-cut diamonds. Silver silk followed the clean line of her dress.
The diamonds caught the spotlight with every step. At home, she had worn her hair back and clothes no one would remember.
Here, people moved aside before she reached them.
Arthur Vance walked beside her with one hand at the small of her back. He said someth
