her up in an ivory tower.” He sighed exaggeratedly. “Ah,
those were the days!”
“Nowadays,” said Marc’s cool tones from the door, making
them all look round guiltily, “your knight
would have a hard time telling the damsels from the other
young men.”
“But think what fun he would have trying to find out!”
Sam countered impudently.
Marc’s brows rose. “Really? Shall we go in to dinner
now? Mama does not feel well enough to stay down,
Pallas. She has one of her headaches.”
They had moussaka for dinner—aubergines thinly
sliced, rich dark minced lamb and a thick cheese sauce
covering it all. Kate enjoyed it very much and determined
to make it when she got home.
Marc peeled an apple slowly, his long slim fingers deft
in all their movements. Kate watched him, remembering
the gentleness of those fingers on her face earlier.
“By the way, Pallas, Helene cabled today. She arrives
at the end of the week,” he said without looking up.
His sister looked up, frowning. “Alone?”
He shook his head and shot her a quick glance. “She is
bringing Marie-Louise and Jean-Paul with her.”
Pallas dropped the fork with which she was eating a
confection of chocolate and cream. “Jean-Paul?” she
repeated breathlessly. “Oh, why did you have to invite
him here?”
“Why shouldn’t he come here?” Marc demanded. “He is
our cousin, after all. And he usually visits us once a year.”
She pushed back her chair, standing up suddenly. “It