Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor Bradford

you never know who you’ll meet there,’ Geo announced, grinning at M.

      Although her room was only fairly modest in size, M had liked it from the first moment she had seen it. Painted a creamy-buttery colour, it had a large window looking out onto West Twenty-Second Street; it was airy and light-filled, and very sunny this afternoon. The dark red and gold Oriental carpet covered the entire floor, and added a warm, cosy feeling, as did the dark red curtains at the window. There was a day bed along one wall with a dark red damask cover, and piles of gold and red pillows, so that it served as a sofa; nearby, a large armchair upholstered in the same dark red fabric as the curtains faced the television set on a stand. A coffee table, a large chest of drawers and several lamps completed the room, which M kept as neat as a pin.

      Her golden rule was no clutter, and there was a paucity of personal things here, especially photographs of her family; only a few books stacked up on the chest revealed something about her, and that wasn’t very much.

      M walked across the room and picked up her mobile phone, which had been charging while she was out. She saw a missed call, and knew at once that it must be from Dax. It was, and she called him back; his phone was turned off and so she left a message congratulating him, and saying she would see him that evening.

      Wondering what to wear for the party, she headed towards the wardrobe and opened the double doors. She had several suitable outfits, all black except for a grey silk trouser suit, which Birdie had given her a couple of years ago. Pulling it out, she held it up and stared at it critically, pursing her lips, and then she hung it back in the wardrobe, mentally discarding it.

      Quite suddenly she felt that she mustn’t go to the party. It was too risky. There would be lots of theatre people there, she was certain of that, and some might very well know various members of her family – and recognize her. But not if I go as Audrey, she instantly thought, realizing that this would be the most perfect disguise of all. She smiled to herself, warming to the idea.

      Hurrying into the adjoining bathroom, M stared at herself in the mirror, her head on one side, visualizing the image that Agnes and Marguerite had created. She made a moue, instantly remembering how Geo had thought the look was a bit overdone, and Geo had been correct. Half an Audrey, she now thought. I’ll go as half an Audrey, and I’ll be safe. Nobody will know who I really am, and I can simply play the role of M.

NINE

      ‘I don’t want to go to the party,’ Geo announced suddenly, coming to a standstill on Park Avenue, turning to look at M. ‘Let’s forget it, shall we?’

      M was taken aback, and she stared at Geo, exclaimed, ‘But you were the one who was so anxious to go, earlier. Why have you changed your mind?’

      ‘I know what these Park Avenue parties are like. I’ve been to them. It’s going to be a boring evening with lots of famous people who are dull, or stupid, or full of themselves.’ Geo made a face, took hold of M’s arm firmly, and said, ‘Let’s go and have supper. There’s a little bistro I know on Lexington. Swifty’s. You’ll love it and it’s my treat.’

      ‘But we can’t leave Dax in the lurch,’ M protested, shaking her head. ‘He’s expecting us, and he’ll be awfully disappointed if we don’t turn up. We’re probably the only friends he’s invited. Besides, we’ll look really mean if we don’t go.’ M threw Geo a knowing look and added, ‘We don’t want him to think we’re jealous because he got a break before I did. And before you’ve had your show.’

      Geo sighed. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right, and if we don’t like the party we can always leave after half an hour.’

      ‘Hey, Georgiana! What on earth are you doing, lingering around here? If you’re not careful, you’ll be arrested for loitering with intent. Can’t have that now, can we?’

      At the sound of the man’s cultured English voice, Geo swung around and began to laugh when she saw an old friend hurrying towards them. ‘Hi!’ she cried, waving. ‘And what are you doing around here?’

      ‘Probably going to the same party as you. At Iris Ingersoll’s flat,’ he responded, coming to a stop next to them, immediately eyeing M with great curiosity.

      Geo nodded, and before she could introduce the man to M, he thrust out his hand. ‘James Cardigan.’

      ‘Marie Marsden,’ M said swiftly, shaking his hand. ‘But everyone calls me M, Mr Cardigan.’

      ‘Call me James.’

      Her cheeky grin appeared as she said, ‘“Into the valley of Death rode the six hundred” …’

      ‘“Honour the charge they made! Honour the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred!”’ he answered and continued, ‘I think Tennyson got it right, don’t you?’

      ‘Yes, he did. Absolutely.’ M paused, then asked, ‘Are you related to that particular Cardigan?’

      He shook his head. ‘No, but I’ve always been teased about my name. Unavoidable, I suppose, under the circumstances.’

      ‘Heavens to Betsy, what are the two of you going on about?’ Geo asked, looking from one to the other in bewilderment.

      James explained, ‘M associated my name with the Earl of Cardigan, the British general in command of the Light Cavalry at the Battle of Balaclava in the Crimean War. In Eighteen fifty-four. He led the charge of the Light Brigade against the Russian forces. M was quoting a line from Tennyson’s poem about the charge, so I responded by quoting another line.’ He grinned. ‘You know what we Brits are like, Georgiana, steeped in our history.’

      ‘So it seems,’ Geo responded pithily. Then she hurried on, ‘And what did you mean when you said I might be arrested for loitering with intent?’

      ‘Intent to solicit men,’ he told her and winked. ‘But I’m sure the police don’t follow that practice here. So don’t worry.’

      Geo did not respond, but she had the good grace to laugh. She had met James at several parties over the past year and she liked him. Also, he usually made her laugh.

      Seizing the moment, M exclaimed, ‘We’d better hurry, Geo. It’s already nine thirty, and we really shouldn’t be much later, you know. It’s awfully rude.’

      ‘Right! Let’s get a move on then,’ James Cardigan said, taking charge. Manoeuvring himself between the two young women, he took one of their hands in each of his and ushered them up Park Avenue towards the building where Iris Ingersoll lived.

      ‘How long have you known Iris?’ James asked Geo as they drew closer to the building.

      ‘We’ve never met,’ Geo said. ‘But M and I know Dax, the actor she’s giving the party for. It was Dax who invited us.’

      ‘I see. Well, she gives smashing parties, you’re both going to have a terrific time.’

      ‘Let’s hope so,’ Geo murmured, quickly looking at M, who remained silent.

      A uniformed maid ushered them into the Ingersoll apartment, and the three of them stood for a moment in the long entrance foyer.

      M glanced around, quickly took everything in, and understood immediately that it was typical Park Avenue decor: the floor was composed of black and white marble squares, the walls covered in a silver wallpaper patterned with large branches of orange blossoms, a faceted crystal chandelier dropped from the ceiling. Traditional decorating: high quality and safe.

      James Cardigan led the way down the hall, followed by Geo; M was at the rear as they edged slowly past the guests who were assembled there. As they made it through into the large living room, M’s eyes swept the gathering.

      She spotted Dax immediately. He was standing near the white marble fireplace, and looking much better than he had when he left New York. He had obviously been enjoying the California sun,