Indiscretions by Elizabeth Adler Page B

cities so he acquired bits of Park and Madison in New York and plots in downtown Houston and Dallas; he learned to enjoy wines, so then there was a château with a vineyard in France.… You name it, Fitz bought it. And then, because he can’t bear things just to sit there not making money, he built hotels or converted the existing buildings into hotels. And when he’d finished those projects he turned his interest to shipping, tankers, freighters. He’s been working since he was thirteen years old. I was born when he was only twenty, and now he’s forty-four. I’m still wondering what he’ll get up to next.”
    “Does it worry you?”
    She was listening intently, obviously deeply interested in what he had to say. It broke down any barriers between them, and Morgan suddenly found himself saying something he’d never admitted to any other woman before.
    “Sometimes it does, yes. I’m not always sure that I’m going to be able to live up to his standards, his expectations of me.” Morgan was serious now. “It’s not always easy being the son of a famous and successful father.”
    Vennie leaned back in her chair. His words had brought her back to her own dilemma. The questions reared themselves once more in the front of her mind. Her future. What was she going to do? What could shedo that could possibly succeed the way Jenny had done? There was just no way to make Jenny proud of her; she had no talents, no achievements, she was just an ordinary girl—with a famous mother.
    “I know, Morgan,” she said in a small voice that was like a sigh. “I know just what you mean. You see, my mother is Jenny Haven.”
    Lydia spoke across Morgan, who was sitting between them. “Venetia, I think we’ll have coffee in the drawing room and leave the men to their port.”
    “Of course. I’ll get Marie-Thérèse to bring it in to us.” Coffee was, thank heavens, the one thing that Marie-Thérèse could be trusted to take care of alone, possibly because she drank gallons of the stuff herself. Venetia smiled her excuses to Morgan and the other male guests, and followed Lydia and the ladies from the room.
    Morgan turned to watch her go. She was a slender, almost childlike figure in her layers of noncolor knits, stylish with that particularly English nonconformity. And she was lovely. He turned his back to the table, accepting the glass of amber port that Roger Lancaster offered. She was Jenny Haven’s daughter. Of course, that had been the resemblance that tantalized him. How odd. He’d always thought his father had been in love with Jenny Haven, although as far as he knew they had met only once. But there was no doubt Jenny Haven had been Fitz McBain’s idol in his lonely teenage years.
    Morgan sipped his port appreciatively as Roger Lancaster began to outline some of the points he wanted him to make to Fitz when he saw him next.
    Venetia chatted easily with Lydia’s guests, some of whom were mothers of her own friends, but it was as though she were in limbo, waiting for the dining-room door to open and Morgan McBain to reenter her world. Weren’t they taking an awfully long time tonight? She glanced at the original Cartier Santos watch that Jennyhad found for her when all she wanted in the world was something as simple and easy as a watch. It reminded her again of Jenny, and Venetia bit her lip worriedly. What was she going to do? She couldn’t bear to go back to Beverly Hills. Ah, thank goodness, the dining-room door had opened. She gazed expectantly toward the hall as Roger Lancaster shepherded his guests into the drawing room for coffee.
    The sound of the phone shrilled through the house.
    “Vennie darling, could you get it?” Lydia looked up from pouring the coffee.
    “I’ll pick it up in the hall.” She sped across the room, making for the hall and the phone. Morgan McBain stood in the doorway and he moved aside to let her pass.
    “I want to talk to you,” he murmured, catching her hand as she sped by.
    He