PROLOGUE

            “This hardly seems like the time or place for this conversation,” Marlene Seagrave said between sips of champagne.  “I’m not sure I’m ready to ruin my figure that way.”

            Adrian Seagrave scanned the room, his eyes sliding over the other wealthy couples.

            “You may have been a beauty contest winner when I married you...”

            “I think maybe that’s why you married me,” she said.

            “...but too much good living has already loosened your figure, my dear.  Before you grow too far, I want an heir.”

            Marlene spun off under the grand chandelier.  Her shorter husband had to sprint to keep up with her.  Marlene inspected the other wives as she passed through the festive crowd.  She was younger than most of the women in the Canfield Casino that evening, because Mrs. Whitney generally invited old money to her Saratoga Springs soirees.  But many of these more mature women looked great.  Better than Marlene had lately, she had to admit to herself.  Her legs were not what they once were, back when she was Miss North Carolina, and her abdomen had swelled just a bit with what women called a pooch.  Still, her complexion was as clear as ever, her natural blonde hair retained just the right amount of curl, and she knew her face was still striking.

Besides, she was still in far better shape than her husband, and weighed considerably less.  She turned to review his appearance.  His once-handsome face was beginning to sag under the weight of a double chin, and his hair was rapidly deserting his scalp.  Of course, she knew that all of that was beside the point.

            As a waiter walked by she captured another glass, exchanging it for her empty one, throwing words over her shoulder at her husband.  “You’d have a better chance at getting me pregnant if I was a little drunker.”

            “All right, I get it.”  Seagrave sidled up to her, his little pig eyes pressed almost closed by a bigger smile.  “I’m being selfish.  Is that the message?  Okay, Marlene.  What do you want?”

            This was not the way she imagined her marriage would turn out when she said those vows seven years ago.  Everything came down to a negotiation with him.  He assumed that her comfortable life justified the neglect.  He expected her to tolerate the other women.  Now he wanted an heir, a foal from his prize filly, just like the Saratoga horse owners around her.  She knew that she could always leave, but the Seagrave fortune was as seductive as the power it gave him was chilling.  She glanced around the room, and her eyes settled on a handsome couple holding hands beside the roulette wheel.

            At the woman’s throat, pinned to her Halston original, was an antique diamond brooch of uncommon delicacy and beauty.

Marlene caught her husband’s eye and pointed subtly at the prize.

            “I want that.”

            Adrian Seagrave flashed his teeth, much as a shark does when it spots its prey.  “All right, my dear.  As always, you will have what you want.”

            Even that casual promise chilled her.