Once the tremors subsided, Hudson lowered her carefully back to her feet. She wobbled on her heels and he steadied her with an arm around her waist.

“I believe I’m starting to develop an appreciation for classical music,” he said.

Still short of breath, she managed a slight laugh. “I thought it all sounded the same to you?”

“This one is different.” His expression grew serious as he brushed the pad of his thumb over Allie’s swollen lips, but then he quickly flashed a wicked grin. “In fact, I need to go home and listen to it a few more times.”

Chapter Twenty-six

Allie pushed through the brass revolving doors of the Drake Hotel and hurried up the stairs. The concierge glanced up from his desk as she passed, but Allie didn’t need directions. She’d been to the Palm Court dozens of times over the years.

The harpist was at her post, same as she was every day during afternoon tea. Her carefully plucked notes wafted through the air in perfect harmony with the tranquil fountain at the center of the room. Chiffon-draped columns framed the scene and divided the restaurant into cozy seating areas of plush velvet couches and white linen chairs. Allie scanned the room and found her mother in one of the chairs, her back to the fountain as she set her china teacup on the white marble table in front of her.

“You’re late,” Victoria scolded. She tilted her head in invitation. Despite her aggravation, Allie obliged, careful not to smudge lipstick on her mother as she pressed her cheek to hers.

“I have a job, Mother. I can’t drop everything just because you leave a voice mail summoning me to tea.”

Her mother bristled. “You were not summoned to tea, Alessandra. I simply needed to discuss a few items with you and this seemed like the perfect venue.”

A tuxedo-clad waiter greeted her the moment she settled in on the dark brown sofa. “Welcome to the Palm Court,” he said. “What can I start you out with this afternoon?”

“I’ll take the Earl Grey. Decaf please. No cream or sugar, but I’d love some honey on the side.” As an afterthought, she added, “Oh, and an orange twist instead of lemon, if you have one.” The waiter backed away with a nod and Allie turned to her mother. “What was so urgent?”

“Elizabeth Prescott called me yesterday. She tells me Hillary asked you to be her doubles partner next summer.”

Allie dug her nails into the palm of her hand. Had her mother really interrupted her workday to talk about tennis? Even if she was somehow under the misconception Allie was interested in league play, the season was still a good six months away. “Mother, if you called me here to discuss—”

“She also invited me to be her guest at the symphony last night.” She gazed at Allie, her facial expression giving nothing away.

Allie tried to keep her voice level. “She did?”

“Yes, seems her husband had something come up rather last minute and she was kind enough to offer me the extra ticket. They were good seats, too. Main floor, center aisle.” Victoria lifted her teacup to her lips and took a small sip. “Of course, I would have preferred box seats.” She moved slowly and methodically, setting her cup and saucer back on the small table. Allie’s heart thudded in her chest, yet she held perfectly still, doing her best to remain impassive as her mother studied her face for any hint of a reaction. Her eyes never left Allie’s as she dabbed the corner of her mouth with a cloth napkin. When she was done, she folded it neatly and smoothed it across the lap of her mint-green St. John suit. “Did you enjoy the performance, Alessandra?”

The waiter arrived with Allie’s tea, giving her a few precious moments to collect her thoughts. Denial was pointless. Her mother had obviously seen her in the box with Hudson. The only question that remained was how much had she seen. Her stomach rolled at the thought. Keep it together, Allie. All she had to do was drink her tea, make a bit of small talk, and get the hell out of there.

“Very much so.” Allie reached for the small dish of honey, just as she had on countless other afternoons. Only this time there was a small tremor in her hand as she dabbed a spoonful into her tea. Hopefully her mother hadn’t noticed. “I was invited by one of the foundation’s patrons. I met him at the museum gala last month.”

“Yes, I saw you dancing with him that night.”

Was there anything this woman missed? “He’s new in town and asked me to be his guest. You know how disappointed I was to discover Julian had forgotten to get tickets. Plus, I thought this would allow me the opportunity to discuss the work we do at Better Start in greater detail, possibly secure another donation.” Allie paused, suddenly aware her words were coming out in a high-pitched rushed. She drew a calming breath through her nose. “We never would have reached our initial goal without his pledge.”

“I’m well aware of the generous check Mr. Chase wrote.”

She knows his name? “You are?”

“I make it my business to know who all the major players are, Alessandra, and I’m not only referring to the foundation.”

The waiter set a three-tiered, sterling silver stand on the table between them. Each level held a china plate displaying an array of finger sandwiches, fruit breads, scones, and French pastries. He hesitated for an awkward moment before hightailing it to the kitchen. Lucky bastard.

“I just love this place. It has so much more character than those new flashy hotels they’re building these days.” Her mother helped herself to a delicate offering of cucumber and tomato on crustless bread, but didn’t bother taking a bite. Instead she placed the small sandwich on her plate and lifted her chin. “There’s no substitute for lineage, Alessandra. You’ll do well to remember that. A few lucky investments do not put that man in the same class as Julian.”

“There’s also something to be said for respecting a self-made man, Mother. Some people aren’t fortunate enough to be born with a title or family fortune. They have to work hard for what they want in life. Everything Hudson Chase has was earned, not inherited.”

Victoria’s nostrils flared ever so slightly. “That’s quite a passionate defense of someone who’s merely a donor.” She leaned closer, her voice a lethal whisper. “Don’t think you can play me for a fool, young lady. You’re hardly the first woman to enjoy a walk on the wild side, Alessandra.” Her hand smoothed an already immaculate French twist. “Lord knows Paolo brightened more than a few of my afternoons.”

Who the hell was Paolo? Allie’s mind raced, processing information before screeching to a dizzying halt as the face of her childhood tennis instructor flashed before her eyes. “The tennis pro?”

Her mother arched a single brow. “His private lessons did wonders for my swing, but I would have never let him escort me to a social event.”

Allie’s heart sank at the realization that her mother was a walking, talking cliché. Her voice wavered when she asked, “Does Daddy know?”

“Your father and I reached an understanding years ago. This is the world we live in, Alessandra, but you’re hardly in a position to expect that sort of latitude.” Victoria’s eyes flicked down to the ring on Allie’s finger. “Wait till you’re wearing his wedding band, have given him an heir to the family title—but even then you must learn to be discreet. Men are willing to overlook certain . . . hobbies, as long as their needs are met. But no man will tolerate the sort of embarrassing display you put on last night.”

Every muscle in Allie’s body tensed as she wondered exactly how much her mother had seen. The balcony wall would have shielded Hudson’s hand from view. And her wrap had been across her lap. Had she caught a glimpse of them behind the curtain? Oh God. Allie thought she might be sick.