Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

We left the room, closing the door firmly behind us, and headed back towards the morning room, running into Colin, who was walking across the main hall as we crossed it.

“There you are, Emily,” he said, taking my arm. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Your fiancée has a staggering knowledge of red figure vase painting,” Mr. Harrison said, relinquishing my arm to my fiancé. This comment took me aback. How did he know I had a particular interest in Greek vases? It was no secret, certainly, but it struck me as odd that he’d picked up on it. Especially the red figure painting.

“How did you—” I stopped as Mr. Harrison turned and without a word walked away from us, disappearing down the corridor.

“Good of him to leave us alone.” Colin stepped closer to me and touched my face. “Not that I wouldn’t stand, rapt, for hours listening to you rhapsodize about ancient art. But aside from our inspiring encounter on the balcony, I’ve hardly seen you since you arrived.”

“The countess seems to depend upon you for amusement.”

“Apologies.” He twined his fingers through mine. “I’ve known her for some time.”

“So I’ve gathered. Lord Fortescue couldn’t wait to let me know.”

“He’s a beast. I’m sorry. I would have rather told you myself.”

“Told me what, precisely? He was a bit vague on details.”

“Kristiana and I were…close…for some time, but that ended the moment I knew I loved you.” His eyes held mine. “I wrote to her the night I escorted you back to the Meurice from Café Anglais in Paris last year. We talked on the Pont Neuf. Do you remember?”

“Very well,” I said. “Although it was our subsequent encounter on the Pont Neuf that made more of an impression on me.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you then.”

“I’m glad you did.” I should have been content standing there with him, but thoughts of the countess wouldn’t stop tugging at me. “I never thought you were the sort to fall for a married woman.”

“She wasn’t married when we met.”

“And after she was married?”

“Emily, I’m not going to impugn her reputation, even to you. It wouldn’t be right. There’s nothing between us any longer, and that is all that matters.” Part of me admired his principles; the other part was rather too eager to hear anything that would portray the countess in a less-than-flattering light. “That’s quite a wicked smile. I’m afraid to ask what you’re thinking.”

“Nothing that does me credit,” I said.

“Then I shall have to redirect your imagination in a more acceptable direction.” He started to kiss me, but pulled back at the sound of footsteps.

“You should be more careful with your fiancée’s reputation, Colin,” Kristiana said, her voice low and rich, seductive. “What would people say if they knew you two were skulking about hallways in country estates?”

“Very little, I’m sure,” I said, meeting her stare. She smiled, the most dazzling, patronizing smile I had ever seen, and laid an elegant hand on Colin’s arm.

“Enchanting, an enchanting little darling. I’m so glad you’ve found her. You really ought to bring her to Vienna sometime. The count is already excessively fond of her.”

5 December 1891

Darnley House, Kent

My dear daughter,

News as good as that which I have is worth sending express.

Your father and I have just returned from spending several days at Balmoral with Her Majesty, and she has decided to bestow upon you and Mr. Hargreaves a great honor. She graciously offered to allow you to be married from St. George’s Chapel at Windsor Palace. I, as you well know, was instrumental in facilitating the engagement between Prince Eddy and May of Teck, and the queen wishes to thank me for my service by taking particular note of your wedding.

I told Her Majesty I think it best that the wedding take place during the Season, perhaps in June. This gives you plenty of time to make arrangements and organize your trousseau. The queen went so far as to suggest fireworks for the night before.

Before I forget, I must mention that Lady Londonderry tells me you’ve written to ask her if you may catalog the art and antiquities at her husband’s estate. Surely you know this is not the sort of activity in which you should be involved. I have no intention of addressing the issue again.

I shall keep you abreast of plans for the wedding as they are made.

Your very affectionate mother,

C. Bromley

My mother’s letter had arrived while I was dressing for dinner, and I spent much of the meal brooding over the thought of her taking over my wedding plans. Colin had been seated next to the countess at the opposite end of the table from me, so I’d not yet been able to give him the bad news. I did not doubt that he had even less interest in a society wedding than I did. Neither of us had wanted one in the first place, and the only bright spot in having to cancel the one we’d originally planned was that it gave us the chance to be married in a quiet, private fashion.

The count—Karl, as he kept insisting I call him—was my dinner partner, and I did my best to make the right sort of nonsensical noises of approval while I half listened to the stories he told to amuse me. Lord Fortescue and Flora were next to each other, heads bent close as they laughed over some private joke, something they would not have been able to do had Lady Fortescue been at the table. Her headache had grown worse, and she’d taken to her bed.

“Damn smart woman you married, Fortescue,” Sir Thomas said. “I’d go to bed myself if I could. I’m exhausted. Bloody bore, sitting around like this.”

“Yes, but you must eat, Father,” said Gerald, who appeared to take no notice of his wife’s friendliness towards our host. “And I think we can all agree that pleasant conversation while dining can only enhance—”

“That’s quite enough, boy. Let’s make it through dinner without prattling on about a lot of nonsense. Are we ready for the port, Fortescue? I don’t think I can stay awake much longer.”

This was the cue for the ladies to retire to the drawing room. Flora caught my eye, and I looked at Ivy, whose porcelain brow was furrowed. As I was the highest-ranking lady in the room, the rules of precedence dictated that I should leave first, but I didn’t move. I looked above the fireplace at three golden statues of angels beneath Gothic canopies. They seemed to be staring down at me with looks of pained amusement. In my own house, I would never have left the gentlemen to the port, not only because it was my favorite beverage, but also because I disliked being excluded from what, typically, was the most interesting conversation of the evening. I glanced at Robert, who was incapable of masking the panic on his face, and decided that tonight, at least, I would join the ladies.

I rose from my chair and saw the countess smiling at me. “What a disappointment,” she said. “I thought Lady Ashton was quite opposed to ladies being excluded from port. I shall have to soldier on without her, as I have no intention of being exiled to coffee in the sitting room.”

My face grew hot. I stammered, trying and failing to form a pithy reply. Ivy took my arm. “Lady Ashton is kind enough to accompany me because she knows I cannot do without her.”

“She is quick, then, to abandon her principles. Perhaps they only hold when she is in the familiar surroundings of her own home. But if one is to be an iconoclast, one must expect to live with some measure of discomfort.”

“It is an admirable thing to put the needs of a friend before one’s own personal agenda,” Colin said, his gaze fixed on me.