"Of course not." I accepted a glass from her man and started to drink it slowly. Feeling a bit braver, I added that I had never before been served champagne for tea. This comment earned a hearty laugh from my hostess, and I joined in her merriment. The wine loosened my tongue, and soon the whole story of my marriage poured out. Madame proved to be a refreshingly sympathetic listener.

"My greatest difficulty has been just what you said, pretending to know him better than I did. I know that as time passes, people will stop mentioning him, and therein comes my problem. The more I learn about Philip, the more interesting he becomes to me. I made no effort to know him before his death, and I fear that is something I shall grow to regret deeply."

"You had very little time to know the man, Kallista. I shall call you Kallista. It is vastly superior to Emily."

"I assumed him to be transparent, like most people I meet in society. Now instead I find that he was a scholar of sorts, a patron of museums, and a friend to artists. I thought he was a stupid hunter."

"Would you have behaved differently had you known any of these things before your marriage?"

I paused to consider her question. "I don't think so," I said at last. "I don't think I should have had much interest in Greek antiquities or Homer or the impressionists then. My only real concern was avoiding my mother."

"Then the fact that you were not interested in Philip is irrelevant. Had you known about his passions before his death, you most likely would have decided they were boring and wouldn't be able to enjoy them so thoroughly now. They would mean as little to you as his hunting trophies do."

"Perhaps you are right, but now I am filled with an overwhelming urge to learn everything about him that I can. When Mr. Hargreaves told me about the night Philip fell in love with me, I felt something inexplicable."

"Don't fall in love with your dead husband, Kallista. It can bring you no joy." Madame du Lac motioned for the footman to refill our glasses.

"Oh! I would do nothing of the kind. But how can I help wanting to know more about him? Monsieur Renoir said he bought paintings, but there aren't any impressionist works in our house. Perhaps they are in the country, although it seems unlikely. Where could they be?"

"I couldn't begin to guess. Try not to spend too much time worrying about such things. You must enjoy Paris. What are your plans while you are here?"

"I have already achieved my primary goal of escaping London and can now think about what I should like to do next. Mr. Worth is coming to me Tuesday, so I can order some dresses, but other than that I don't really have any plans." Madame du Lac picked up an embroidery scissors out of her workbasket, rose from her chair, and snipped some material from the hem of her curtains. She handed me the swatch.

"Have him design you a dress in this color. I have never before seen anyone so flattered by a color as you are by this shade of blue."

"Madame, I am still in mourning...."

"I insist that you call me Cécile. Otherwise you will make me feel old enough to be your grandmother, which I probably am. Silly custom, mourning clothes. Men wouldn't stand for it. That's why you rarely see them with more than a black armband. But it is different for us, and I surely don't want to see you cut from society. The time will pass quickly, and before you know it, you will be able to wear what you wish."

"Men don't need mourning clothes because their suits are already dreary enough, don't you think?"

"Quite right, Kallista," Cécile said, laughing. "Make sure Worth has the dress ready for you."

I thanked her and slipped the fabric into my bag. All the way back to the Meurice, I felt as if I were floating. As I stepped out of my carriage in front of the hotel, I once again had the unsettling sensation of being watched and was suddenly terrified that I would turn around and see the man with the dueling scar. I glanced furtively over both shoulders but saw no one suspicious; I quickly placed blame on my consumption of champagne too early in the afternoon. The next time I spent an afternoon with Cécile, I would have to insist upon tea.


11 APRIL 1887

BERKELEY SQUARE, LONDON


Terrible ball tonight. Hargreaves and I managed to leave almost immediately after arriving and spent the rest of the evening at the Reform Club (he steadfastly refused to go to the Carlton, insisting that conversing with the Tory establishment would be even less desirable than dancing in the Duchess of Middleton's too-hot ballroom). He's too bloody political, but as the food is much better at the Reform Club, I readily agreed to his plan.

Anne insists that she must introduce me to her friend, Miss Huxley, who apparently is quite keen to become Lady Ashton. This fact in itself is enough to make my interest in the young lady negligible, despite Anne's assurances of her fine qualities. Perhaps I ought to remind my sister that so long as I am a bachelor, her son remains my heir.

5

My social life improved considerably as my acquaintance with Cécile grew. She included me in her salons and frequently invited me to dine with her on evenings she spent at home. I still chose not to attend balls or large parties. I suppose that I could have but didn't imagine I would get much pleasure from watching my peers dance in lovely, colorful gowns while I sat with the other widows. I would wait until I, too, could dance.

I soon received a letter from my mother, who was somehow under the impression that Cécile was related to aristocrats who had narrowly escaped the Reign of Terror. She encouraged the friendship, imploring me to overlook any eccentricities in view of the connections I might make. Had she known the sort of connections I made through Cécile, I am certain that her opinion would have been quite the opposite.

Before long, Ivy and Robert returned to Paris; I was delighted to see them again. Ivy left her husband answering correspondence, and we escaped to the Tuileries, where we could converse in private. Walking along the wide, central path through the park afforded us the best possible views of the garden and its backdrop of the Arc de l'Étoile and Ramses II's obelisk in the place de la Concorde. Although the Bois de Boulogne was perhaps a more fashionable place to walk, I preferred the Tuileries, which I could see from my rooms at the Meurice.

"You'll never guess what I did last night," I said. "Cécile took me to the most wonderful dinner party. It was all artists, celebrating Monsieur Renoir's recent marriage. Cécile goaded me into drawing a portrait of him as a wedding gift. I did it in the style of a Greek vase, showing him as Paris carrying off Helen."

"Oh, Emily! You didn't really draw for them? Weren't you terrified?"

"It was all a joke, you see. No one expected me to draw well, and of course I didn't."

"But do you really think you ought to associate with them?" Ivy paused and blushed. "Emily, those women lived with men for years and years without marrying them. I have heard that Alice Hoschedé has a husband but that she and her children live with Mr. Monet. You do need to consider your social standing." Robert's influence clearly had lessened any liberal leanings my friend had before her marriage.

"Cécile moves in the highest circles in Paris. Her association with artists is well known, and no one appears to hold it against her."

"Her situation is somewhat different."

"Yes, her husband has been dead longer."

"That's not what I mean," Ivy continued. "Madame du Lac clearly isn't going to marry again, while you have your whole life ahead of you."

"Ivy, darling, has marriage so altered your mind? I cannot believe you are reprimanding me. Has my mother sent you?" I smiled.

"Perish the thought!" Ivy's chestnut curls bounced as we both laughed. "I admit that being married has changed my opinion on a number of subjects, however. I would so like to see you happy again, Emily."

"I'm quite happy now, Ivy. I do not know when my mind has been more pleasantly occupied. But I will confess to thinking of Philip more than I ever thought I would. It's quite extraordinary. We hardly knew each other, yet he went traipsing about telling his friends he loved me, ordering portraits, bestowing a Greek name on me. I do wish I knew what inspired him."

"Your lovely self, I am sure." Ivy laughed, the dimples on either side of her mouth deepening. "Perhaps he was a hopeless romantic disguised as an adventurous hunter."

"Laugh if you will," I said, my tone growing serious. "But I feel as if there must be some flaw in me. How else did I manage to see nothing in him during the short time we were together? Clearly, he was more perceptive than I."

"I don't think you tried to look, dear. But does it really matter? The material point is that now you know to pay better attention to those around you, particularly to eligible men who fall madly in love with you. Philip certainly didn't lack for female admirers. He chose you from a large number of readily available brides, each backed by mothers nearly as ferocious as your own."

I started to laugh, then stopped abruptly, taking Ivy's arm and pulling her toward me.

"Do you see that man?" I tilted my head slightly to indicate a person who was walking slowly on the opposite side of the wide promenade, not quite behind us.

Ivy nodded.

"I think he is following me."

"Whatever can you mean?"

"I caught him watching me twice in London."

"Are you certain it was the same man?"

"It would be impossible to mistake that scar." His slow pace matched ours perfectly. "Very strange that he would choose to come to Paris at the same time as I, don't you think?"

"Surely it's nothing more than coincidence, Emily. Why on earth would he be following you?"

Before I could respond, my gaze rested on a particularly dashing tall figure striding toward us. I waved when I recognized him, pleased at the opportunity to add a gentleman to our party. The presence of the unknown man had shaken me.

"Lady Ashton, Mrs. Brandon. What a surprise to find you here." Colin Hargreaves bowed smartly as he spoke. "I have only just arrived in Paris myself."

"It's delightful to see you," Ivy replied. "Have you come from London?"

"I had business in Berlin." I accepted the arm he offered, and we continued to walk. "Congratulations on your marriage, Mrs. Brandon. I hope you have found much happiness."

"I have. Thank you." Ivy's china-doll complexion glowed. "Perhaps now that you are here, you can rescue Lady Ashton from the unwanted admirer who she seems to think has followed her from London."

"Who is the unfortunate man?" he asked, looking at me. I searched the path around us but saw no sign of the man with the scar.

"I don't know his name, but it appears that you have scared him off," I said, forcing a smile and trying to appear completely at ease.

"You have no idea who he is?"

"None at all."

"And you have seen him both here and in London?"

"Yes. Once in the British Museum. It was very odd, but I didn't think much of it until I saw him later in Berkeley Square staring at the front of my house. I asked Davis to keep an eye on him. He was there for the entire afternoon."

"Did you report either incident to the authorities?"

"No. It didn't seem that serious. He didn't actually do anything to me," I replied, suddenly feeling rather silly. "Ivy is right. It's merely a coincidence," I said dismissively.

Mr. Hargreaves paused, surveying the scene around us, seemingly satisfied that there were no unsavory characters in the vicinity. "I trust that you are both taking precautions against the cat burglar who has been plaguing the city?"

This mysterious thief had been at the center of Parisian gossip for several weeks. He slipped into houses unseen, stole nothing but the most exquisite pieces of jewelry, and seemed to leave no clues. Often his victims were not even certain when they had been burgled, not noticing that anything was amiss until they looked for a particular necklace or pair of earrings.

"I have nothing with me that would appeal to him," I said. "His taste, from what the newspapers report, runs to things rather more splendid than the jet I'm allowed while in mourning."

"Robert puts my jewels in the hotel safe every night," Ivy said.