The Chase: A Novel Read Online Free

she agreed with her father, she would be disagreeing with David, and that was the last thing she wished to do just then. “How about a drink, Dad?”
    “Fine.” Jean-Léon ambled away into the crowd, greeting those he knew. David stared after him. So did Claire.
    “Sometimes he really bugs me,” David said.
    Claire jerked. “What is going on? How could you argue with him now?”
    David just looked at her. “He can be a pompous ass.”
    “That’s not fair,” she began.
    “Oh, cut it out, Claire. You know that because he’s brilliant in the world of art, he thinks he’s smarter than everyone else—including you and me. But you know what? If it weren’t for your mother, he wouldn’t be where he is today. Her money bought him his success. It made him what he is today.”
    “David!” Claire was aghast. “He’s my father! How can you say such things?”
    He gave her a look. “Let’s do what we have to do. Smile, Claire. This party was
your
idea.” He walked away.
    She stared after him, his last nasty comment leaving her as angry as she had been earlier in their bedroom. She did not deserve such barbs. And he had no right to talk about her father that way. His accusations hurt, even though they were partially true. It was no secret that Jean-Léon had started both his gallery and his art collection with her mother’s generous support. But wasn’t that what spouses did for each other?
    Claire watched David greeting the Dukes. He seemed a bit curt with them, she thought, before turning away. The night had only just begun, but she needed a moment to herself. She had a massive headache, and she was beginning to feel ill in the pit of her stomach. She hurried down the hall and into the sanctuary of the den.
    The doors were open. It was a big room with the same smooth, pale oak floors as the rest of the house, but most of this room was done entirely in soft, natural earth tones. Claire plopped down on a rust-colored leather ottoman, cradling her face in her hands. Her marriage was a charade. There was just no point to it anymore.
    And David wouldn’t care if she raised the subject of a divorce, Claire was certain. But she refused to abandon him if he was in the kind of trouble he claimed to be. They could always separate until the crisis—whatever it was—passed.
    Claire began to tremble. She stared down at her shaking knees and realized she was finally losing it.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” a man’s voice said.
    Claire leaped to her feet in surprise. A man had walked into the middle of the room and was regarding her curiously.
    Claire smiled immediately, wishing he would turn around and leave. She vaguely recalled greeting him a few minutes ago at the front door but did not have a clue who he was. Somehow she managed to walk over as if nothing were wrong, hand outstretched. To her horror, her hand was shaking. She slid it into his anyway, praying he would not notice. “I’m certain we met. I’m your hostess, Claire Hayden.”
    He shook her hand, the contact briefly and vaguely surprising. “Yes, we did, Mrs. Hayden,” he said, no longer smiling. He was grave. “Ian Marshall. I’m a friend of your husband’s.”
    Claire pulled her hand free, aware of flushing. It was too warm in the den. “Call me Claire.” She smiled automatically.
    “I hope I’m not interrupting, Claire?” His gaze was searching.
    Claire had the unwelcome notion that he knew she was crumbling bit by bit beneath her immaculate exterior. “I was going to make a phone call. I’m with the Humane Society, and I wanted to check on a stray we picked up that was hit by a car,” Claire said lightly, hoping that he would take the hint and go.
    He did not.
    In fact, he just stood there, regarding her. He was a tall man, six feet or so, with dark hair that was neither too short nor too long. He was clad in an impeccable suit, as were most of the male guests. His shoulders were very broad, and Claire knew the