Beryl stared at Nina. Saw the other woman’s gaze meet hers without flinching. “No,” she whispered.

Gently Helena touched her shoulder. “You were just a child, Beryl. Both of you were. And Hugh didn’t think it was appropriate-”

Beryl said again, “No,” and pulled away from Helena ’s outstretched hand. Suddenly she whirled and fled in a rustle of blue silk across the ballroom.

“Thank you. All of you,” said Jordan coldly. “For your most refreshing candor.” Then he, too, turned and headed across the room in pursuit of his sister.

He caught up with her on the staircase. “Beryl?”

“It’s not true,” she said. “I don’t believe it!”

“Of course it’s not true.”

She halted on the stairs and looked down at him. “Then why are they all saying it?”

“Ugly rumors. What else can it be?”

“Where’s Uncle Hugh?”

Jordan shook his head. “He’s not in the ballroom.”

Beryl looked up toward the second floor. “Come on, Jordie,” she said, her voice tight with determination. “We’re going to set this thing straight.”

Together they climbed the stairs.

Uncle Hugh was in his study; through the closed door, they could hear him speaking in urgent tones. Without knocking, they pushed inside and confronted him.

“Uncle Hugh?” said Beryl.

Hugh cut her off with a sharp motion for silence. He turned his back and said into the telephone, “It is definite, Claude? Not a gas leak or anything like that?”

“Uncle Hugh!”

Stubbornly he kept his back turned to her. “Yes, yes,” he said into the phone, “I’ll tell Philippe at once. God, this is horrid timing, but you’re right, he has no choice. He’ll have to fly back tonight.” Looking stunned, Hugh hung up and stared at the telephone.

“Did you tell us the truth?” asked Beryl. “About Mum and Dad?”

Hugh turned and frowned at her in bewilderment. “What? What are you talking about?”