“Oh, I think your companion for the evening was a touch more interesting than mine.”
My cheeks heat. Despite the lack of familial relation between us, Eduardo has always had a way of ruffling my feathers in a manner only older siblings can achieve.
“I’m quite certain I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.” His expression sobers. “They’re a powerful American family, Beatriz. Influential in politics.”
“They may be, but he’s a distant cousin. I hardly think he’s influential in their political decisions.”
“I wasn’t talking about the marriage proposal. I heard you also caught a certain senator’s eye.”
My voice cools. “Do you have spies among the staff at these parties, or guests you’ve converted to the cause?”
“You know I can’t give away all my secrets.”
“It was just a dance.”
“Right.”
“It was,” I insist.
“The way I heard it, he spent the whole night watching you.”
It shouldn’t make me feel a sense of satisfaction, but it does.
“He spent most of the night getting engaged.”
“Engaged men still have eyes.”
“Oh, charming, exactly want I want, a philanderer.”
“Yes, better if he is a philanderer—for our purposes, at least. I’m sure his pretty fiancée can fare just fine. There may be a day when we need his vote in the Senate, Beatriz.”
It’s a struggle to keep my voice light. “From a dance to votes in the Senate, my, you are ambitious. I thought the plan was to kill Fidel, not legislate him to death.”
“We need to keep all of our options on the table. There’s a party tonight. Senator Preston will be there. All I’m suggesting is that you entice him a bit, see if he’s interested.”
My gaze narrows, my voice hardened to steel.
“You might not have a hard time finding underlings to do your bidding, but I’m not for sale. I’m here for Fidel, not to sleep with politicians to help you regain your fortune.”
“I thought you were here for Alejandro,” Eduardo counters, not a hint of shame in his expression. What is it with people throwing my brother’s name around as though I will simply bend to their will if they tug at my heartstrings? You can love someone and still not lose your reason. “And it’s not just my fortune we’re talking about here,” Eduardo adds. “Don’t you want a better life for yourself, your parents, your sisters?”
“I’m not going to sleep with Senator Preston for you, or for Alejandro’s memory. Or because my sisters and I are forced to re-wear our gowns. There are other ways to defeat Fidel. Besides, I knew my brother better than anyone, and I’m fairly certain he would have objected to me prostituting myself for the cause.”
Despite the manner in which Fidel has beggared us all, Eduardo’s upbringing is enough to ensure he finally looks momentarily abashed. “Fine. Don’t sleep with him. But see what comes from you holding his interest. Maybe he’ll be more amenable to helping us if he likes you.”
“He’s getting married,” I say for Eduardo’s benefit, and perhaps a bit for my own, the reminder a necessary one in the face of the memory of how much I enjoyed myself on the balcony last night.
Was he really watching me the whole evening?
“And you’re Beatriz Perez,” Eduardo retorts.
“I’m not going to ruin a man’s life or his marital ambitions. I’m not going to hurt innocent people.”
“He’s an American politician,” Eduardo counters. “How innocent can he possibly be? The Americans have unclean hands in all of this. There’s a party tonight. Your Senator Preston will be there. Come with me.”
I hesitate.
He smiles. “What’s the harm in trying? Like you said, it was only a dance.”
Eduardo throws the gauntlet down with a knowing gleam in his dark brown eyes—both a challenge and a plea—and damn him for it, because we both know I never was one for resisting lost causes or walking away from a dare.
* * *
• • •
The crowd differs from last night; there are no matrons or gray-haired parents. This is the fast set, some of the faces familiar, most a far cry from the parties I attend with my parents.
“You look beautiful,” Eduardo whispers, my arm tucked in his as we enter the room.
“That may be, but it’s a little disconcerting when you say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“As though you’re dangling me in front of them like a cut of meat.”
Eduardo chuckles, a lazy smile on his face that draws the notice of the vast majority of the women in the room. If they didn’t hate me before, showing up on the arm of one of the season’s most handsome bachelors certainly won’t do me any favors.
“I really did miss you when you were still in Cuba,” Eduardo murmurs, his manner affectionate and indulgent, giving the impression that we are either old friends or lovers.
Eduardo left Cuba before we did, before President Batista fled the country on New Year’s Eve, abandoning us to Fidel’s hands on New Year’s Day. I always wondered if all the money Eduardo had slipped people throughout the years gave him advance warning that Cuba’s fortunes were about to shift.
“Most women I meet these days spend their time flattering me,” he adds, grinning. “It’s exhausting, really.”
I stifle a snort as I tear my gaze away from his and scan the crowd.
My breath hitches.
A pair of blue eyes bore into mine, and Eduardo is momentarily forgotten.
There’s no fiancée tonight, or if there is, they aren’t the sort of couple to dangle on each other’s arms. More likely than not, she’s at another more respectable venue like most unmarried girls of good families. It’s that kind of party.
Nicholas Preston is just as handsome as he was last night, wearing a suit instead of a tuxedo, his skin hale and tan against the blinding white collar.
Polite society comes to Palm Beach during these winter months to escape the harsh temperatures farther north, and it’s easy to envision Senator Preston hitting the links with the Kennedys in the early-morning Florida sun, or walking along the sandy beach in the waning hours of the day. He gives the impression he is happiest doing something: either behind the helm of a sailboat, gripping the stick of a plane, on the back of a polo pony brought down from some tony estate somewhere, or with a racket or club in hand, ready to thoroughly trounce his opponent.