To Kiss a Count

Thalia thought of those men, of the avid way they looked at her as they drove in the park, the way they lined up to dance with her at balls. The flowers they sent, the compliments they paid. The way they never even saw past her façade, her prettiness, her connections, into the real her.

For a few moments in Santa Lucia, she had thought someone did see. Saw, and understood, and answered. But that was foolish.

‘They are respectable,’ she answered, pouring more tea. ‘And nice enough. I doubt any infatuation would last more than a few days, though, once they saw what I am really like.’

Calliope sighed. ‘It is true that we Chase girls are not quite as other ladies. We were raised to actually use our brains, to speak our minds! But there are men who quite like that, I think.’

Thalia gave her a teasing smile. ‘Men like Cameron?’

Calliope laughed. ‘I have never held back from expressing my thoughts to him! We have very—lively conversations. And quarrels, from time to time.’

‘Cameron is a very fine man, to be sure. But there aren’t many like to him to be found in England.’

‘Perhaps that is because his mother was Greek. It is true that my husband is quite unique, but I am sure we can find someone just as special for you.’

Thalia doubted that. Her sisters were very fortunate in their marriages. Lightning didn’t strike three times.

‘I am content as I am,’ Thalia said. ‘I will write my plays, and teach Psyche her music when she is older. I will be the perfect maiden aunt!’

Calliope laughed, but Thalia could see she looked tired again. ‘I cannot be selfish enough to keep you with me, though I would dearly love it. Psyche is so very—vivid now, I cannot imagine what will happen when she is walking and talking.’

‘Or, heaven forefend, when she is old enough to have suitors of her own! She is a true Chase.’ Thalia went to tuck a blanket around Calliope’s legs. ‘I will leave you now, Cal dear, so you can rest. Please, don’t worry about me. I am entirely well and happy.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Thalia said firmly.

‘Very well. I will pretend I believe you. Just do one thing for me.’

‘Of course.’

‘Write to Clio and ask her about the Count. She will know more of him than I, and she can tell you things I have promised not to speak of.’

Promised not to speak of? Thalia positively ached with curiosity. Ordinarily she would bombard Calliope with questions, but her sister’s pale face stopped her. Calliope was weary, and she would never tell her secrets anyway. She had her share of the Chase stubbornness.

‘Yes, I will write to Clio,’ Thalia said. She went to the pianoforte, running her fingertips over the cool ivory keys. This was no time for the storms of her beloved Beethoven, the one she always turned to when her thoughts were in turmoil. Instead, she played for Calliope a folksong she had learned in Italy, a light, trilling piece to raise the spirits.

It raised hers, too, drawing her into the other world music always created for her. A place where nothing mattered but sound and creation, emotion and freedom. But as she moved into another song, she happened to glance up at the window.

Passing along the curve of the Crescent were Marco and Lady Riverton with her little dog, arm in arm and laughing.

Thalia’s fingers fumbled, clashing on a discordant note. She looked hastily to see if Calliope had noticed, but her sister was asleep. And when Thalia turned back to the window, Marco was gone.

Chapter Six

The assembly rooms were lit up like a Chinese lantern, Thalia saw as their carriage rolled to a halt. They could not get too close, as the crowds waiting to go in were so thick, but even from that distance she saw the golden glow spilling from the windows, the ribbons of light curling out of the open doors, around the pillars of the Doric-style portico, and over the ladies’ pastel gowns and fine jewels.

Thalia thought she could even hear the faint strains of music, and it made her feet tap in their pink kid slippers.

‘Such a great crush,’ Calliope murmured, peering past Thalia’s shoulder. ‘We shall never get inside until midnight.’

‘Perhaps we should leave, then,’ her husband suggested. ‘Come back on a less crowded evening.’

Calliope laughed. ‘Are there any less crowded evenings? I doubt it. We shall just have to press forwards.’

‘I don’t want you to tire yourself,’ Cameron protested.

‘I had a nap this afternoon, just like Psyche,’ Calliope said. ‘Now I want some company! I can’t be shut up like an invalid old lady, and poor Thalia should not be shut up with me.’

Thalia gave her a smile. ‘It’s true that I would love a dance. But not if you feel unwell, Cal. Cameron is right, we can come back—’

Calliope suddenly cracked her fan against the door. ‘I have told you two a hundred times to stop fussing over me! We will all dance tonight, and that is that.’

With that outburst, she reached for the handle and swung the door open, climbing down before anyone could stop her.

‘Hurry up, then,’ she called from the pavement, smoothing her white-and-silver silk gown and diamond necklace. ‘Or we shall miss all the fine music.’

Thalia and Cameron exchanged a resigned glance. ‘Well, she told us what is what,’ he said.

‘Indeed,’Thalia answered. ‘She is not an invalid.’

Cameron followed his wife, reaching back to help Thalia alight in a more conventional manner before they made their way to the front doors. Thalia held on to her brother-in-law’s left arm as Calliope took his right. She gazed around at the swirl of faces.

Not that she was looking for Marco, of course not. She was merely interested in who might be newly arrived in Bath, that was all.

She even nearly had herself convinced of that as they made their way past the marble columns of the central vestibule. Until she glimpsed the back of a tall, dark-haired man, and her breath caught on a gasp.

But then he turned around, and she saw he was not Marco at all.

‘Are you quite well, Thalia?’ Cameron asked.

‘Hmm?’ Pushing down those annoying pangs of disappointment, Thalia gave him a quick smile. ‘Yes, of course. Why do you ask?’

‘Your cheeks went pink all of a sudden.’

‘It’s probably the crowd,’ Calliope said, elbowing aside two gawking young dandies blocking the way. ‘Everyone thinks they can just stand right here, preventing anyone from getting into the ballroom!’

Yet Cameron was quite tall, and he soon had them at the crossroads where they could go left to the ballroom, right to the tearoom, or straight ahead into the octagon and card room.

‘Could you possibly procure us some punch from the tearoom, my love?’ Calliope said. ‘Thalia and I will find her a suitable dance partner in the ballroom.’

Cameron frowned doubtfully, causing Calliope to laugh. ‘Go on, now,’ she said, giving him a playful little shove. ‘I promise I will sit down at the first opportunity.’

She took Thalia’s arm and drew her into the ballroom. It was just as crowded in there, but the high ceilings and pale-green walls gave an airy feeling. White pillars soared up past a balcony where the musicians played, to an array of sparkling crystal chandeliers high overhead.

Dancers swirled and twirled along the centre of the parquet floor, a kaleidoscope of silks, muslins and superfine, of shining pearls and shimmering diamonds that made Thalia think of the Murano glass she had seen in Venice.

And thinking of Venice made her think of Marco—again.