The Vanity of Whitehall Street
The gala was held at the Plaza, and Charles Worthington III stood in the ballroom's crystal light like a man standing in a fishbowl—every gesture observed, every smile measured, every thread of his Brioni suit examined by women who could tell the difference between Italian and French silk without touching it. "Charles, darling, your skin is glowing," said Countess de Montclair, fanning herself...
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