CHAPTER 4MAJOR PEMBROOKE’S table was in a favored spot, the waiters were deferential. Griselda sat beside him in well-mannered docility, ate and drank, listened and spoke. She didn’t want to. She wanted to clutch Con’s hand, make him run, swim, fly with her away from the macabre reverberations there at the St. Catherine. But Con didn’t notice her; he was not wasting charm on a wife that night. Nor did he pay any attention to the man he had traveled to meet. Pembrooke should have been harassed at having his companion taken over completely by Con. Actually he wasn’t, Griselda realized. It was because he was waiting for something, for someone else.
When Kew entered the dining room with Kathie Travis on his arm, Griselda knew what that something was. She knew with such certainty that there wa
