Thurston House by Danielle Steel

they'll forget in time. By the time your children come along, all they'll remember is who your grandfather was, and how well you've dressed for the last twenty years. But he didn't quite believe that and neither did she. The South was different.
    I don't care. I'm going to get out of here some day and go north.
    Things aren't so different there. People are snobbish in Chicago and New York, and even in San Francisco sometimes, although it's a little different there because everyone is new.
    It's worse in the South. I know it is. She wasn't entirely wrong, and their eyes met again as he watched her face. I wish I lived in California with you. It was a shocking thing to say, and he suddenly wondered if she was going to assault him again, and he more than half wished she would.
    Camille, behave yourself. For the first time he sounded stern, but she liked that too.
    Why aren't you married by now? Do you have a woman in California?
    Things were getting worse. There was no stopping this girl. What is that supposed to mean? He sounded annoyed with her as he looked away.
    It means a mistress. My father has one in New Orleans. Everyone knows that. Do you?
    Jeremiah gasped and looked her firmly in the eye. Camille, that is a shocking thing to say.
    It's true. My mother knows it too. And then, Well, do you?
    I do not. He shoved Mary Ellen from his mind, she was not a mistress after all, and this child had no right to know about that. Or about anything. She was a great deal too free.
    What do you know of things like that? She was far too knowing for a girl of seventeen, and suddenly he disapproved, as they began to walk back in the direction they had come. But the way she tucked her hand into his arm suddenly warmed his heart again. You are a little minx, you know, a vixen, and if you were my child, or my 'woman,' as you put it, I would beat you every day.
    No, you wouldn't, she laughed musically in his ears, and she had read him well, you'd love me to pieces because we'd have a lot of fun
    Would we now, and what makes you so sure of that? I'd make you scrub floors, and pull weeds, and work in the mines ' But what was he saying, he was playing her game again. But how could one not? There was something absolutely irresistible about the girl.
    No, you wouldn't. We'd have a maid.
    Of course not. I'd treat you just like an Indian squaw. But it was obvious that she didn't believe a word he said, and he found himself standing too close to her as they left the park, aware of her delicate perfume, the rustle of her silks, the warmth of her slender arm, and graceful neck ' the tiny little ears ' he felt a wave of lust wash over him again, and suddenly backed away from her. What on earth was this girl doing to him? There was something devilish about her as she looked up at him.
    I like you very much, you know. It was the end of the afternoon and the light in the sky was as soft as her skin.
    I like you too, Camille.
    He thought he saw a tear in her eye and he was stunned. Will I ever see you again?
    I hope so. One day. They said very little to each other then, and walked home arm in arm, and he felt almost a sense of loss when he said good-bye to her and returned to his hotel. And all night, as he tossed and turned, he had to push her from his mind. And he was even more upset to realize how relieved he was when Orville Beauchamp sent him a note at the hotel the following day, asking him to dine with them. And when he saw Camille again, he realized how desperately he had missed her since the night before, but that was ridiculous, even to him. But his eyes caressed her face, and she seemed relieved to see him again, as though she had been afraid she never would, and they scarcely took their eyes off each other during the entire meal. Beauchamp noticed it himself, and his son looked amused, and when at last Orville and Jeremiah were alone over brandy and cigars, Orville Beauchamp looked directly at him. There was no preamble to his speech and Jeremiah