Champions of Serenity :Gathering the Circle
Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Lights strung from the gazebos to the patios to the boathouses cast enough light in the dark night to make it seem almost noontime. Hundreds of people dressed in silks and satins and sequins mingled, glittering with enough jewelry to pay off the national debt. A small army of silent servers in stark white and crisp black moved through the crowd with trays of hor d’ouvers and drinks. A twenty-five-piece orchestra played softly in the background and a few couples waltzed to the strains of Strauss.

The talk in the groups of men centered on stocks, bonds, tax loopholes, properties bought or sold, toys invested in, and the current situation within political circles. Groups of women chatted about who was currently cheating on whom and with what secretary or accountant, fashions, charities, trips abroad, hopeful daughters, and eligible bachelors. The younger women and girls cast side long glances at the younger men and boys, while the older women watched carefully to make sure the younger generation wouldn’t be caught up in the politics of business at a private club party.

Watching from one of the few shadows and sipping a small snifter of brandy was Philip Andrew Bennington the Third. He was the only child of a business tycoon and his socialite wife, royalty in the business and social worlds. Just back from London, Phil was one of the eligible bachelors that all the mothers of hopeful daughters kept on the lookout for. Disliking the varnish and polish of the upper class, Phil wished that for once, he could find a nice girl who didn’t know who he was and what his net worth was. Rubbing the back of his neck, he knew how the fairy story princes felt at the balls given with the sole purpose of finding the most suitable bride.

Phil stopped a passing server and placed his empty glass on the silver tray and walked away from the lights and music and gaily stilted laughter of the upper echelon of Boston’s finest. The bitterness in his thoughts as he contemplated yet another year as a junior partner in his father’s business made him scowl. If his mother had seen his face, she would have done everything she could think of to tease him out of his mood. But Phil didn’t want to be teased out of the mood. He wanted to be left alone and allowed to do some real work for a change, rather than sit in an office and shuffle useless pieces of paper. He wasn’t even allowed to get his hands dirty with doing research into the companies his father wanted to buy.

As he reached the soft lapping of the water, Phil hunched down on his feet and tossed a stone into the bay. He watched the ripples move in the black water. With a finger, he traced a design in the wet sand and let the tide erase it neatly before starting another one.

The girl watched him and wondered what it would be like to be the wife of Philip Bennington. She knew that the Bennington Empire was a catch for any girl, but for a girl from the ranks of the newly rich, it would be a major coupe. Looking over her shoulder she nodded to her mother, then took another step toward the most eligible bachelor in Boston.

Remembering everything her mother told her about this man, she kept her voice soft, shy. One of the first things that turned him off was a bold girl; another was a list of schools she had attended. She wasn’t to talk about her Daddy’s new found wealth, nor of his family’s long standing name and fortune. He liked sailing, she could talk about that, but she couldn’t let him know it made her seasick.

Phil turned at the soft sound of shoes against the sand. He didn’t have to see more than the diamond chip studded patent leather shoes to know yet another girl was trying to catch his attention. Just once, he would like to meet someone real, someone who hadn’t been prepped on what to say or how to act.

Standing, he gave a cold smile and nodded at the girl. He had to admit, she was pretty, if you liked brunettes with deep brown eyes. She was shorter by just a few inches than he, so everyone would think she would be a good match. Her Barbie doll figure, which probably cost her father the fortune the same doll was supposed to control, was everything the magazines said a well-bred upper class girl should be.

She lowered her lashes and blushed at his smile, taking note of how casually he wore the five hundred dollar silk shirt.

“Excuse me, Mr. Bennington. I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind showing me your yacht. I have heard so much about it.”

Silently he groaned, not another seasick girl who wanted to take a ride in his sloop and then throw up all over his deck. But, he knew the rules, and politeness demanded he at least do her the courtesy of replying.

“I’m sorry, Miss . . . ? I don’t think I caught your name.”

She almost died. His voice was so soft and just the right amount between bass and tenor. For a moment, she forgot her own name, looking into his incredible blue eyes.

“Oh, it’s Cyndi, I mean Cynthia. Cynthia Rockridge.” She hoped her real blush wasn’t too deep or lasted too long. It wouldn’t do to let him think she was flustered; he liked a girl who was in control.

“Well, Cyndi,” he made a point of using her nickname. “My yacht isn’t in this marina. But if you would like to see it, I can take you there tomorrow for lunch.” He almost smiled as a blush, a genuine blush, colored her cheeks. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

His voice kept throbbing through her head and she didn’t realize what she was saying until it was out. Then her blush of confusion changed to the crimson of horror.

“My dear, Cyndi, you don’t know how refreshing it is to hear a girl actually admit to being seasick. How about lunch tomorrow anyway, I’ll make it some place that won’t float away with you, I promise.”

She couldn’t believe it. Even though she had committed the crime of admitting her weakness, he was offering her his arm and asking her to lunch tomorrow. Smiling into his face, she took his arm.

Mrs. Philip Bennington the Second looked up as she heard the laughter of her son. She turned from the charity group she was talking to and looked around to see what had made him laugh. When she spotted him with a lovely young lady by the bay’s edge, a slight smile touched her lips. Perhaps he would find this one to his tastes and finally have the family she was hoping he would have.

Shægnek’s hands froze over the mosaic she was working. Now here was the challenge, how to make him even more jaded than he already was. Perhaps she could change a few colors of the tiles and . . . yes, that would do it. Now he would find this honest approach just as calculating as the others. He was the easiest of them all to mold. Since he was the strength and support of the First, he was direct, and direct paths are the simplest to tarnish.

She looked at the picture in the mosaic and then added a few more shades of green. The image was strong, forceful, yet oddly disconnected.

“He still has the heart of a dreamer, he’ll need that. And perhaps, I’ll give him just a touch elegant irony. Yes, that fits. He will be ready,” she had to laugh at this thought, “Long before the First ever will be.”

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