Stephen stranded her at dinner.

They had been the last ones to enter the dining room and she had been forced to take the last available seat. The one opposite Angelford.

The mood at the rest of the table was light. Everyone had done well at the races. The Pettigrew threesome chattered. Roth appeared entertained by their conversation. Stella and Stephen were embroiled in a lively discussion.

Only she and the man across from her were silent. Angelford sipped his scotch and observed the rest of the table. And her.

He leaned back in his chair, and she felt his boot touch the top of her slipper. He had stretched his legs out, forcing hers to remain tucked under the chair. She leaned back and lashed out, kicking him in the shin. His eyes glittered.

Calliope widened her eyes and made a show of looking under the table. "Oh, how clumsy of me."

Stephen glanced at her. She smiled, and he resumed his conversation with Stella.

Her toes hurt.

"Tell me, Esmerelda, what do you do in your spare time? Do you have any hobbies?"

It was the first thing Angelford had said to her all day.

"I enjoy reading. "

She stabbed a piece of the tender beef on her plate and popped it in her mouth. Stephen had already finished his meal, but she had been pushing hers around her plate.

"What do you like to read?"

"Shakespeare."

"Macbeth?"

"Twelfth Night."

"Interesting."

She forced another piece of beef into her mouth, hoping he would stop talking. The juicy meat had lost its flavor and tasted like leather.

"And do you enjoy music?"

She chewed slowly and sipped her water. "Mozart. Rossini, Beethoven." She was being rude and didn’t care.

"James, I was telling Esmerelda the other day about Milan and La Scala. Do you remember that night?"

The mocking dropped from Angelford’s face and he smiled at Stephen, his eyes crinkling in the corners. A genuine smile from the Marquess of Angelford. Calliope was suddenly glad he had never loosed one on her.

"I do, but I’m surprised you remember." Angelford looked at Stella. "Stephen imbibed a bit too much wine. Thought a contessa was a tavern wench. Nearly got his ears boxed."

"She was a tavern wench."

"Aren’t we all?" Stella joined in the fun. Calliope didn’t want to like her, but it was hard not to. Under different circumstances they might have been friends.

"But she was a tavern wench, I tell you. Ask Roth, he was there."

"Ask me what?"

"About the tavern wench masquerading as a contessa," Angelford said.

"Nearly unmanned Stephen, if I recall."

Stephen looked affronted. "Am I the only one here who remembers the evening correctly? The contessa nearly unmanned James. The tavern wench liked me."

"Sorry, boyo. They were not two women, and you were the one on the ground, not me."

Roth nodded agreement.

Stephen glared at him. "Well, if I remember correctly, Roth ended up in-"

A piece of bread bounced off Stephen’s head. "I insist we cease now before the three of us damage what’s left of our reputations," Roth said.

Suddenly all three of them were smiling. Calliope remembered Madame Giselle’s comment about the trio.

The light-hearted bantering continued, and Calliope found herself swept into the fray.


Calliope strolled out of the Newmarket inn and into the cool night. Her back and right leg ached from the ramrod posture she had maintained throughout dinner. Why couldn’t Stephen have invited only Roth? And perhaps Stella sans Angelford?

Dinner had proven to be much more lively after the Milan memories, but it had been too late to help her aching back.

The cloudless day had spilled into the night. The stars shone brilliantly this far from the London haze.

How nice it was to spend time away from the bustle of town. Too bad they would be returning on the morrow.

She walked farther into the small garden outside the inn. One of the benches she had spied earlier would be perfect for stargazing and was close enough to the inn to keep her out of trouble if one of the drunks coming out of the taverns happened by. She skirted a few hedges and peered into the dark recess of the garden. Moving from memory, she neared one of the three benches facing the small fountain in the center. It was a modest garden, and quite perfect for uninterrupted gazing.

She was certain one of the benches was straight ahead, but her eyes hadn’t totally adjusted to the dark. She tentatively stuck out a foot and hit stone. Success.

She walked forward and hit an object with her right foot. She stumbled forward and her left foot tangled in the lowered hem of her dress. Damn roots. She hadn’t seen them this afternoon.

She was going down.

She threw her arms in front of her to break the fall, but something grabbed her across the chest. A warm arm. The action allowed her to regain her footing and stand upright. The arm released her slowly, sliding across her chest and leaving sharp tingles in its wake.

A long shadowy leg lifted, bent at the knee and rested on top of the bench. There was no other movement. The mysterious root had been a foot.

"I believe the other two benches are empty. "

It was Angelford, of course. No one else could possibly be a better witness to her embarrassment.

"What are you doing here?" The words were out before she thought better of speaking. She could picture his raised brow, but could barely discern his form stretched out on the stone.

"I will confess after you do."

"It is a good night for stargazing. What is your excuse?"

There was a marked hesitation. "That is mine as well."

She didn’t believe it for a second. Her eyes started to adjust. She located another bench and sat. "Marvellous. Which constellations have you spotted?"

"Ursa Major, Cassiopeia, Cancer, Leo…" He rattled off a dozen and she was glad the darkness hid her dropped jaw.

"I’m still trying to find Hydra. Can you help?" The voice dripped sarcasm.

"Very amusing."

Calliope gazed up into the night, and after a few minutes spotted the multi-headed serpent. "Well, Hercules, if you found Leo and Cancer, just look south. Perhaps you’d have more luck looking for Virgo. It’s in the same region." Give him something to think about.

"What game are you playing?"

"I have no idea." It was the truth.

"l give you fair warning. You won’t like it when I uncover your scheme. Hercules slew the Hydra."

Calliope drew herself up. Stargazing had lost its appeal. "Hercules also made sure two heads didn’t sprout from each one he cut off. Good night, my lord."

She walked through the hedges and back inside the inn. Nightmares of Hercules slaying the Hydra plagued her sleep.

Chapter 4

James tossed the paper to the floor the next evening. A second caricature, this one less flattering than the last.

"What’s wrong, James?"

Stella kneaded the muscles in his shoulders. The massage felt good, but he wanted to be tense. Too many things were upsetting him since their return from Newmarket.

"That damn Thomas Landes. I’m going to wring his neck."

Stella gracefully picked up the paper. "Not very fitting. Where does this man get his ideas?"

James threw up his hands. "I’ve no idea. I instructed Finn to look into the matter. I’ll know soon."

She tapped the paper thoughtfully. "Maybe you should look at the situations depicted. Where are the ideas spawned?"

James had already tried, but the pictures, though brilliantly rendered and emotional in nature, were vague. “Any number of people with an active imagination could have culled these. The drawings don’t give me any more clues to the artist’s identity. "

"You are awfully interested in this artist."

"I’ve never been under attack before."

Stella hesitated. "James, I know you didn’t come here to discuss these terrible drawings. Why don’t we finish the business and have an enjoyable dinner?"

She knew. "Stella, I-"

"I know, dear. I’ve seen the way you look at her.

And the way she tries to hide her interest. If she were free of Stephen I would give you my blessing, for I quite like the girl." Stella hesitated again. "I hope you don’t mind my bluntness, but something is wrong with the situation."

He waved her on, already in a mild sort of shock.

"She’s not… she’s not one of us. It’s not that she doesn’t behave like she is, but there’s an aura about her. Almost of innocence. I’ve been wondering if it’s an act, perfectly devious if it is-and guaranteed to bring her fortune and fame-but a part of me thinks her innocence is genuine."

James shook his head. "No, Stella, she has ulterior motives. I will discover them."

She smiled, almost sadly. "Yes, James, I know you will. Now let’s eat. Afterwards you can buy me the lovely sapphire necklace I’ve been admiring as a parting gift to soothe your conscience."


The festively decorated ballroom glowed in red and gold and smelled of lit cinnamon. The cheerful guests sauntered the length of the room, mingling and offering their various services. Buyers and sellers alike. It was a merry atmosphere and one was hard put not to smile at some of the antics.

Calliope did just that as she mentally calculated how much cleavage the flamboyant widow on the settee displayed. Could one measure décolletage in acres?

She added another caricature idea to the growing list in her head. Yes, she could do something with the widow’s ample bosom…

She felt a strong presence at her side, indicating Stephen had finally returned.

"I’m glad you’re here. What term would you use for a harbor that is too tight for a ship to pass through?" she asked.