Rachel was more sympathetic. “Say what you want about her being an obscenely spoiled princess, but you can’t say she hasn’t been nice to us.”

“I just don’t want to ever see you get hurt again, that’s all,” Nick said, his brow furrowed with worry.

“I know. But I don’t believe Colette really wanted to see me hurt, and I certainly don’t think she’s going to hurt me now. I feel like I owe it to her to at least hear her out.”

At five o’clock the next afternoon, Rachel walked into the Waldorf Astoria Hotel on the Bund, tailed discreetly by two of Bao Gaoliang’s security men that Nick insisted accompany her. She made her way to the Grand Brasserie, a magnificent space framed by an elliptical mezzanine, tall marble columns that rose up to the second floor, and a stunningly landscaped interior courtyard. Colette got out of her seat and rushed toward Rachel the minute she saw her.

“I’m so glad you came! I didn’t know if you would,” Colette said, hugging her tightly.

“Of course I would,” Rachel said.

“They have a fabulous high tea here. You must try the scones—they’re just like the ones at Claridges. Now, what tea do you feel like today? I think I’ll have the Darjeeling, that’s always the best.” Colette fluttered nervously.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Rachel said, trying to put her at ease. She noticed that Colette was dressed in a completely different manner than she had ever seen her—in an austerely elegant gray-and-white dress accessorized with nothing but a Maltese cross made out of old cabochon emeralds. She wore less makeup than usual, and her eyes appeared to be swollen from crying.

“Rachel, you must believe me when I say that I had no idea Roxanne was going to do what she did. It was as much a shock to me as it must have been to you. I never, ever ordered Roxanne to do anything that would harm you. Nothing at all. You believe me, don’t you? Please say you believe me.”

“I believe you,” Rachel said.

“Oh thank God. Thank God.” Colette sighed. “For a while there I thought you were going to hate me forever.”

“I could never hate you, Colette,” Rachel said gently, placing her hand over Colette’s.

Two steaming pots of tea arrived, along with a tall silver stand overflowing with daintily cut triangles of sandwiches, scones, and a decadent array of sweet confections. As Colette began piling glistening pastries and fluffy warm scones onto Rachel’s plate, she continued to explain herself.

“Roxanne was the one who came up with the idea of eavesdropping on the Baos after we left—it was all her idea. But then, when we heard their conversation, I was in shock, that’s all. All I could think of was that I had hurt Carlton, that I had made things far worse for him. And in that moment, just that one moment, I got really upset—not at you, but at the whole situation—and Roxanne misinterpreted my feelings.”