debutante. Instead of which …
Impatiently, he started to cross the room toward her, keeping her in his line of sight. She had paused beside the young musician, Christian Percossi, who was listening attentively to some bewhiskered general. Leo saw her brush her friend’s arm in passing. Then a back obscured his view for a second, and when he had a clear view again, Diana the Huntress had vanished.
Frustrated, he stopped, looking around. Then he saw young Percossi making his way purposefully to the doors leading to the courtyard outside the ballroom.
Clearly another assignation. Leo’s eyes rolled heavenward. He quickened his step, following the musician.
There was a nip in the night air; the stars were crystalline against their black velvet background. Leo shivered in his thin toga after the heated ballroom with its myriad candles and hot press of bodies. A red carpet covered by an awning ran from the ballroom to the main structure of the Belvedere Palace; flambeaux lit the pathway that disappeared into the glittering maw of the palace. There was no sign of his quarry, but Leo followed the path into the palace. The great entrance hall was unnaturally quiet. A lone footman hurrying across the vast marble expanse gave the viscount in his Roman costume a curious glance and seemed to hesitate, then a clock somewhere chimed the midnight hour and he continued hastily on his way.
Leo heard Cordelia’s voice, low but both urgent and excited, coming from an antechamber to the left of the grand staircase. He entered the small room without ceremony and was relieved to find the two of them standing decently far apart beside the open window. For all their protestations of pure friendship, he hadn’t been completely convinced. But this was clearly no lovers’ tryst.
Cordelia sensed his presence and turned swiftly to the door. “Oh!” she said. “It’s you.”
“Yes, it’s me.” He advanced into the room. “What in the name of the good Christ are you doing in that costume?”
“I was just asking her the same thing, sir.” Christian ran a distracted hand through his fair curls. He was dressed unimaginatively if decorously as a minstrel. “It’s shocking, Cordelia. What if the empress discovers your identity? Or your uncle! Can you imagine what he would do to you?”
“Yes,” Cordelia said cheerfully. “But he won’t know, and neither will the empress. Only Toinette knows, and she would never betray me.”
“Cordelia, you’re impossible.” Christian looked toward the viscount in unconscious appeal.
“Come over here, Cordelia.” Leo took her hand and led her over to a wall mirror. “Now, take a look at yourself and tell me what you see.”
Cordelia, head to one side, examined her reflection. It seemed a strange question; it was obvious what she saw. “Me, dressed as Diana the Huntress.”
“No. You, dressed in the most provocative, seductive fashion.”
“But it’s a costume ball. It’s part of the fun to be incognito and slightly shocking.”
“You are not yet old enough, wise enough, or sophisticated enough to be enflaming men.”
“Do I?” she interrupted. “Do I enflame you?”
Leo was speechless for a moment, and it was Christian who exclaimed, “Cordelia!”
“I didn’t say it first,” she said. “Do I enflame
you
, Christian?”
“No … I mean, well, you
could
do.” He ran his hand through his curls again. “It’s just shocking, Cordelia. You’re the empress’s goddaughter and you’re about to be married—”
“Precisely.” Leo waded in, once more on track. He took hold of her shoulders, feeling the slender shape of them beneath his hands, and turned her once again to the mirror. “Look at yourself, Cordelia. You don’t think of the effectyou have on men. Every man in that ballroom was salivating when he looked at you, and you blithely swan through it all like some innocent fairy in a dream. I tell you straight, your husband will not appreciate such a
Impatiently, he started to cross the room toward her, keeping her in his line of sight. She had paused beside the young musician, Christian Percossi, who was listening attentively to some bewhiskered general. Leo saw her brush her friend’s arm in passing. Then a back obscured his view for a second, and when he had a clear view again, Diana the Huntress had vanished.
Frustrated, he stopped, looking around. Then he saw young Percossi making his way purposefully to the doors leading to the courtyard outside the ballroom.
Clearly another assignation. Leo’s eyes rolled heavenward. He quickened his step, following the musician.
There was a nip in the night air; the stars were crystalline against their black velvet background. Leo shivered in his thin toga after the heated ballroom with its myriad candles and hot press of bodies. A red carpet covered by an awning ran from the ballroom to the main structure of the Belvedere Palace; flambeaux lit the pathway that disappeared into the glittering maw of the palace. There was no sign of his quarry, but Leo followed the path into the palace. The great entrance hall was unnaturally quiet. A lone footman hurrying across the vast marble expanse gave the viscount in his Roman costume a curious glance and seemed to hesitate, then a clock somewhere chimed the midnight hour and he continued hastily on his way.
Leo heard Cordelia’s voice, low but both urgent and excited, coming from an antechamber to the left of the grand staircase. He entered the small room without ceremony and was relieved to find the two of them standing decently far apart beside the open window. For all their protestations of pure friendship, he hadn’t been completely convinced. But this was clearly no lovers’ tryst.
Cordelia sensed his presence and turned swiftly to the door. “Oh!” she said. “It’s you.”
“Yes, it’s me.” He advanced into the room. “What in the name of the good Christ are you doing in that costume?”
“I was just asking her the same thing, sir.” Christian ran a distracted hand through his fair curls. He was dressed unimaginatively if decorously as a minstrel. “It’s shocking, Cordelia. What if the empress discovers your identity? Or your uncle! Can you imagine what he would do to you?”
“Yes,” Cordelia said cheerfully. “But he won’t know, and neither will the empress. Only Toinette knows, and she would never betray me.”
“Cordelia, you’re impossible.” Christian looked toward the viscount in unconscious appeal.
“Come over here, Cordelia.” Leo took her hand and led her over to a wall mirror. “Now, take a look at yourself and tell me what you see.”
Cordelia, head to one side, examined her reflection. It seemed a strange question; it was obvious what she saw. “Me, dressed as Diana the Huntress.”
“No. You, dressed in the most provocative, seductive fashion.”
“But it’s a costume ball. It’s part of the fun to be incognito and slightly shocking.”
“You are not yet old enough, wise enough, or sophisticated enough to be enflaming men.”
“Do I?” she interrupted. “Do I enflame you?”
Leo was speechless for a moment, and it was Christian who exclaimed, “Cordelia!”
“I didn’t say it first,” she said. “Do I enflame
you
, Christian?”
“No … I mean, well, you
could
do.” He ran his hand through his curls again. “It’s just shocking, Cordelia. You’re the empress’s goddaughter and you’re about to be married—”
“Precisely.” Leo waded in, once more on track. He took hold of her shoulders, feeling the slender shape of them beneath his hands, and turned her once again to the mirror. “Look at yourself, Cordelia. You don’t think of the effectyou have on men. Every man in that ballroom was salivating when he looked at you, and you blithely swan through it all like some innocent fairy in a dream. I tell you straight, your husband will not appreciate such a
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