knowing? “Yes.” She made her eyes go dreamy as she smiled. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received. Alex is so thoughtful like that.” Lucy was about to dry heave on her fake Pradas.
“Wiltshire.” The gentleman to Clare’s right stared at Lucy thoughtfully. She recognized him as the lieutenant governor. Finally, a face she could remember. His wife stood beside him. “I went to Yale with a man by that name,” he said. “Are you Cecil Wiltshire’s daughter?”
“No.” In this town, in certain circles, a name still meant everything.
He frowned. “Then what Wiltshire are you?”
The kind that vacuumed after your kind . “I have no family here,” she said, letting her gaze pan the vast room. Where was Alex?
“You’re not the shipping Wiltshires?” The man wasn’t going to let it go.
“No, my mother was a maid. In fact, she once cleaned Mrs. Deveraux’s Charleston home.” How was it possible for the bitterness to creep in after all these years? But there it was, punctuating Lucy’s every word. “She was the best at what she did and always in high demand.”
A woman who reeked of Chanel arched a pencil-thin brow. “And now you’re dating Alex Sinclair.” Her red lips sneered. “My, how you’ve come up in the world.”
“There is no shame in hard work.” Clare finally spoke, her voice as uppity as an antebellum mansion.
Seconds ticked by in weighty silence before the governor’s wife spoke. “I see Hillary Davidson is here.”
“Going strapless again. She’s been doing that since I was first lady thirty years ago.” Clare chuckled. “Like she’s not seventy-one. And there’s Mimsy Taylor.”
The first lady shared a laugh with Clare. “Hose and open-toe shoes. When will she learn?” She then pointed to a woman across the way. “Lucy, look at that woman.”
“Wow.” She fixed her eyes on the lady’s skyscraper hair. “Hello, eighties, huh?”
“That’s my sister,” said the governor’s wife.
“Oh.” Lucy wanted to just sink to the floor and wave a white flag. Lord, who am I to rub elbows with these people ?
Mrs. Trenton’s lips thinned. “I was going to suggest you introduce yourself to her. She works for South Carolina Department of Social Services.”
“If . . . if you’ll excuse me, I need to find Alex.” And flush myself down the toilet . “It was a pleasure chatting with you.”
Clare’s hand stopped her. “Young lady, if you’re going to be dating Alex Sinclair,” she said in a low voice, “you might want to brush up on the who’s who of our state.” The woman only spared Lucy the smallest of glances. “I’d hate for you to mess things up.”
“Right.” Lucy quickly turned to leave, only to find her face colliding into the chest of a man. “Oomph. I’m sorry.” She reached out to steady herself.
Cold hands went to her shoulders. “Lucy Wiltshire?”
She looked at the man who was eye level to her and immediately stepped away. “Yes?”
“Garrett Lewis of the Gazette .”
She rubbed her wounded nose. Not more health care questions. Not tonight.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment?” A high forehead gave way to slicked-back hair a shade somewhere between raven black and dead crow.
“I really need to go. Someone is looking for me.” The Jekyll-like nerves were taking over her body. Disaster was sure to follow if she didn’t get herself under control.
“It’ll just take a moment.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Would you like to set the record straight about your relationship with Alex Sinclair? There’s so much public speculation. What about an exclusive?”
“I’m not here to talk about my personal life. Or Alex’s.”
Beady eyes stared back at her. “With his seemingly bottomless bank account, do you think he’s buying his Congressional seat?”
No. Just a fiancée . “I think he’s passionate about his values and making this state the best it can be.”
“He’s openly spoken against
“Wiltshire.” The gentleman to Clare’s right stared at Lucy thoughtfully. She recognized him as the lieutenant governor. Finally, a face she could remember. His wife stood beside him. “I went to Yale with a man by that name,” he said. “Are you Cecil Wiltshire’s daughter?”
“No.” In this town, in certain circles, a name still meant everything.
He frowned. “Then what Wiltshire are you?”
The kind that vacuumed after your kind . “I have no family here,” she said, letting her gaze pan the vast room. Where was Alex?
“You’re not the shipping Wiltshires?” The man wasn’t going to let it go.
“No, my mother was a maid. In fact, she once cleaned Mrs. Deveraux’s Charleston home.” How was it possible for the bitterness to creep in after all these years? But there it was, punctuating Lucy’s every word. “She was the best at what she did and always in high demand.”
A woman who reeked of Chanel arched a pencil-thin brow. “And now you’re dating Alex Sinclair.” Her red lips sneered. “My, how you’ve come up in the world.”
“There is no shame in hard work.” Clare finally spoke, her voice as uppity as an antebellum mansion.
Seconds ticked by in weighty silence before the governor’s wife spoke. “I see Hillary Davidson is here.”
“Going strapless again. She’s been doing that since I was first lady thirty years ago.” Clare chuckled. “Like she’s not seventy-one. And there’s Mimsy Taylor.”
The first lady shared a laugh with Clare. “Hose and open-toe shoes. When will she learn?” She then pointed to a woman across the way. “Lucy, look at that woman.”
“Wow.” She fixed her eyes on the lady’s skyscraper hair. “Hello, eighties, huh?”
“That’s my sister,” said the governor’s wife.
“Oh.” Lucy wanted to just sink to the floor and wave a white flag. Lord, who am I to rub elbows with these people ?
Mrs. Trenton’s lips thinned. “I was going to suggest you introduce yourself to her. She works for South Carolina Department of Social Services.”
“If . . . if you’ll excuse me, I need to find Alex.” And flush myself down the toilet . “It was a pleasure chatting with you.”
Clare’s hand stopped her. “Young lady, if you’re going to be dating Alex Sinclair,” she said in a low voice, “you might want to brush up on the who’s who of our state.” The woman only spared Lucy the smallest of glances. “I’d hate for you to mess things up.”
“Right.” Lucy quickly turned to leave, only to find her face colliding into the chest of a man. “Oomph. I’m sorry.” She reached out to steady herself.
Cold hands went to her shoulders. “Lucy Wiltshire?”
She looked at the man who was eye level to her and immediately stepped away. “Yes?”
“Garrett Lewis of the Gazette .”
She rubbed her wounded nose. Not more health care questions. Not tonight.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment?” A high forehead gave way to slicked-back hair a shade somewhere between raven black and dead crow.
“I really need to go. Someone is looking for me.” The Jekyll-like nerves were taking over her body. Disaster was sure to follow if she didn’t get herself under control.
“It’ll just take a moment.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Would you like to set the record straight about your relationship with Alex Sinclair? There’s so much public speculation. What about an exclusive?”
“I’m not here to talk about my personal life. Or Alex’s.”
Beady eyes stared back at her. “With his seemingly bottomless bank account, do you think he’s buying his Congressional seat?”
No. Just a fiancée . “I think he’s passionate about his values and making this state the best it can be.”
“He’s openly spoken against
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