Passion's Promise Read Free Page A

through, but found no mention of Kezia.
    "So?"
    "So, Fd like you to meet a friend of mine. Martin Hallam." She was laughing openly, and Edward felt faintly foolish. And then she stuck out a hand to shake his, with a gurgle of laughter and those familiar amethyst lights in her eyes. "Hello, Edward. I'm Martin. How do you dor
    "What? Kezia, you're joking!"
    "I'm not. And no one will ever know. Even the editor doesn't know who writes it. Everything goes through my literary agent, and he's extremely discreet. I had to give them a month of sample columns to show that I knew what I was talking about, but word came back to us today. The column will now run as a regular feature three times a week. Isn't it divine?"
    "Divine? It's ungodly. Kezia, how could you?" "Why not? I don't say anything I could get sued for, and I don't let out any secrets that will destroy anyone's life. I just keep everyone . . . well, 'informed,' shall we say . . . and amused."
    And that was Kezia. The Honorable Kezia Saint Martin, K. S. Miller, and Martin Hallam. And now she was home after another summer away. Seven summers had passed since her career began. She was successful now, and it only added to her charm. To Edward, it gave her a mysterious sparkle, an almost unbearable allure. Who but Kezia could pull it off? And for such a long time. Edward and her agent were the only two people she had entrusted with the secret that the Honorable Kezia Saint Martin had another life, other than the one so lavishly depicted in WWD, Town and Country, and occasionally in the "People" column of Time.
    Edward looked at his watch again. He could call her now. It was just past ten o'clock. He reached for the phone. This was one number he always dialed himself. It rang twice, and she answered. The voice was husky, the way she always sounded in the morning. The way he liked best There was something very private about that voice. He often wondered what she wore to bed, and then reprimanded himself for the thought.
    "Welcome home, Kezia." He smiled at the newspaper photograph still lying on his desk.
    "Edward!" He felt warm at the delight in her voice. "How I've missed youl"
    "But not enough to send me so much as a postcard, you little minx! I had lunch with Totie last Saturday, and she at least gets an occasional letter from you."
    "That's different She'd go into a decline if I didn't let her know I'm alive." She laughed, and he heard the clink of a cup against the phone. Tea. No sugar. A dash of cream.
    "And you don't think I'd go into a decline?"
    "Of course not. You're far too stoic. It would be bad form. Noblesse oblige, et cetera, et cetera."
    "All right, all right." Her directness often embarrassed him. She was right, too. He had a distinct sense of
    "form." It was why he had never told her that he loved her. Why he had never told her mother that he had loved her.
    "And how was Marbella?"
    "Dreadful. I must be getting old. Aunt Mil's house was absolutely crawling with all sorts of eighteen-year-old children. Good God, Edward, they were born eleven years after I was! Why aren't they at home with their nannies?" He laughed at the sound of her voice. She still looked twenty. But a very sophisticated twenty. "Thank God I was only there for the weekend."
    "And before that?"
    "Didn't you read the column this morning? It said I was in seclusion in the South of France for most of the summer." She laughed again, and he smiled. It was so good to hear her voice.
    "Actually, I was there for a while. On a boat I rented, and it was very pleasant And peaceful. I got a lot of writing done."
    "I saw the article you did on the three Americans imprisoned in Turkey. Depressing, but excellent. Were you there?"
    "Of course I was. And yes, it was depressing as hell."
    "Where else did you go?" He wanted to get her off the subject Disagreeable issues were unnecessary.
    "Oh, I went to a party in Rome, to the collections in Paris, to London to see the Queen. . . . Pussycat, pussycat, where