Page 28 of Murder on the Upper East Side

‘Edward. Sebastian.’ Richard Beaumont had appeared behind his sons, one firm hand on the high backs of each of their chairs. In seconds, both boys were on their feet. Richard was Edward’s height, his thinning hair a steely grey. The family resemblance between the three Beaumont men was clear, but only Bash rippled with muscles, surely in part to make up for his short stature.

Richard plucked the empty bottle of Pinot Noir from the table. His thick gold wedding band clinked against the bottle neck. Hannah’s eyes skated between the glasses in front of her and Ami, and she braced herself.

‘Really, Sebastian? A Burgundy with the black bass?’

Bash’s mouth opened and closed. He was clearly waiting for his brother to step in, take ownership over the wine selection, but Edward stayed silent.

‘I had forgotten Chef Bernard replaced the duck with fish,’ Bash said after a moment. ‘Sorry, father.’

Richard sighed deeply, and a chill washed over Hannah’s skin. Beside her, Ami took a small bite of saffron fennel purée.

‘Edward, go to the bar and correct your brother’s error. The 2014 Château Simone Palette Blanc.’ He turned to Hannah and Ami, then rounded the table to their side. ‘How rude of me. I’m Richard Beaumont. I hope you are enjoying your first visit to the Lenox Club?’

Ami smiled widely. ‘Very much, sir.’

‘Good. As I’m sure you are aware, the club is a members-only establishment, but we are always happy to welcome family guests.’

‘Thank you for including us this evening,’ Hannah said.

Without a word, Richard plucked the offending glasses of red that sat before Hannah and her sister, and in a moment, Bash returned with a sommelier holding a tray with fresh glasses and a bottle of the fruity, floral white.

Hannah was half-tempted to set the record straight about the wine, but Edward fixed her with a hard glare, and Richard shifted his attention to the sommelier, ordering three more bottles for the table.

‘Everyone else is drinking,’ Ami whispered. ‘Mr Beaumont just ordered wine for the whole group.’

‘Mr Beaumontis not our dad,’ Hannah whispered back.

Ami treated her to a scowl, which Hannah returned. She’d done her best to warn her sister, but she could hardly cuff her hands behind her back. She needed a breath of fresh air.

‘Excuse me.’ She picked up her water glass and took a sip, then took it with her in search of the ladies’ room.

There was a line of three at the door to the restrooms off the dining room, and a server quietly pointed her to a second set of restrooms located down a short hallway, behind the lounge area. On the door to the ladies’ room was a cameo of a woman’s face, in profile. Hannah pushed it open. She stepped into a small lounge, a Victorian-era-inspired room lined in cream wallpaper boasting an intricate floral and vine pattern. The scent of cedar and white tea filled her nostrils. On an antique vanity table sat a porcelain tray of perfume samplers and small bottles of rose and lavender scented lotions. Hannah set her water glass on one of several ceramic coasters beside a crystal decanter of cucumber water and took a seat in a deep parlour chair upholstered in blush and leaf green silk.

She reached in her bag for her phone, then remembered – no devices.Shit.This private club was cooland all, but she’d trade it in a heartbeat for flannel pjs and the first holiday rom coms of the season. Right now, Grace was probably over at Jillian’s house. They’d be wrapped in giant throws on the TV room couch, eating leftover pumpkin pie.

A wave of homesickness crashed over her, and she plucked at the hem of her borrowed dress. Later, when she was home, she’d FaceTime them. She had collected a gem of a Prescott anecdote she was dying to share – Elizabeth Romero was rumoured to have purchased a second first class ticket on her flight home from Paris on Sunday, for her Hermès Kelly 25 handbag in Étoupe, which she’d picked up on a shopping expedition in Faubourg Saint-Honoré. The bag had, according to Alice, cost just shy of a quarter of a million dollars. The second first class ticket had set her back just ten grand.

Grace and Jillian woulddiewhen she told them. She broke out in a huge grin just thinking about it. Then she drew in a deep breath and stood. She felt better. It was time to get back out there.

When Hannah re-entered the dining room, she nearly turned back around. In the time she’d been gone, Edward had gone from buzzed to full-on drunk. He stood beside a painting of the Hudson River Valley, one in a series of early twentieth-century American landscapes meant to give the dining room a sense of heritage and open air – in contrast to the dark privacy curtains drawn across the windows on the opposite end of the room. He leaned far too close to Madison,who stood before him with arms folded across her chest and an unamused expression on her face.

‘You’ve always wanted to,’ Edward murmured, his face inches from hers. ‘The De Vries room is open.’ He held up his hand. From his middle finger dangled a bronze door key.

Madison scowled, taking a step back. ‘You know I don’t mess around withboys, Edward. And the one thing worse than a high schooler is a sloppy drunk college freshman.’

‘Fuck you,’ Edward hissed. The bloom was off the rose – here was the real Edward, self-possessed and mean. ‘I had my pick of Prescott pussy when I was a student there. I don’t need another private school bitch.’

He’d met his match in Madison, who didn’t flinch.

Dessert was on the table, but Hannah had lost her appetite. So, it seemed, had the majority of Bash’s guests. At opposite ends of the table, Theo and Elle both poked at their pear Tartes Tatin. Alice gawked at the scene unfolding between Edward and Madison with open-mouthed glee, a forkful of pastry dangling forgotten from her fingers. Even Tyler, who had spent most of dinner cracking jokes and constructing a leaning tower of bread from the Parker House rolls, had pushed back his chair and was taking a stroll towards the library with Alex.

Hannah met Ami’s eyes and mouthed, ‘Let’s go.’ For a moment, Ami seemed rooted to her seat. Her eyes trailed from Alex’s retreating back to the half-fullglass of wine at her place, and Hannah stiffened. But then Ami pushed back her chair, and Hannah let out a low breath.

They had left the coat check and were walking to the door when a soft voice carried to Hannah’s ears.

‘You’re leaving?’

She turned. Theo Fitzgerald stood in the lounge, a sweating glass of Coca-Cola in his hand.