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The floor of the lobby was marble. White marble veined with pink. Madison had commented that it would be the devil to keep clean. Her husband had dryly commented that she wouldn’t know one end of the mop from the other. Spencer sat, listening to their comfortable banter while she told herself she wasn’t nervous. It was six-fifty.

She’d dressed carefully, choosing a simple crepe de Chine as pale as the inside of a peach. Her hair fluffed back from her face, exposing the tiny pearl and coral drops at her ears. Her ringless fingers were interlaced.

"Where are you eating?"

Spencer brought her attention back to Madison. "A little place on the Left Bank." There was an enthusiastic violinist, she remembered. Ashley had once passed him twenty American dollars and cheerfully told him to get lost.

At the bellow of thunder Madison glanced toward the lobby doors. "You’re going to play hell getting a cab tonight." She leaned back. "Have you seen Ashley since the match?"

"No."

"Aiden said both she and Maria were sleeping on the tables like babies." A chuckle escaped as she crossed her legs. "Some industrious stringer for a French paper got a couple of classic shots."

"Athletes in repose," her husband mused.

"It kind of blows the tough-girl image."

Spencer smiled, thinking how young and vulnerable Ashley looked in sleep. When the lids closed over those dramatic eyes, she reminded her of an exhausted little girl. It was the only time the frenetic energy stilled.

"Hey, isn’t that Ashley’s sister?"

Spencer turned her head to see Kyla and Martin crossing the lobby. "Yes." Their eyes met, leaving no choice. Gripping her husband’s hand, Kyla walked across the white marble.

"Hello, Spencer."

"Kyla."

A quick moistening of lips betrayed nerves. "I don’t think you know my husband. Martin Darrow, Lady Middleton."

"Spencer Carlin," she replied smoothly, taking Martin’s hand. "Are you related to Paul?"

.

"My uncle," Martin informed her. "Do you know him?"

The smile brought warmth to her eyes. "Very well." She made the rest of the introductions with a natural poise Martin approved of. Cool, yes, he mused, remembering his wife’s description. But with an underlying vibrancy perhaps someone would discern more quickly than others. He began to wonder if Kyla’s opinion of Ashley’s feelings was accurate.