see, my dearest,’ he said happily, ‘you have roses in your cheeks already.’
‘That is because she has me to order around,’ Thalia said. ‘Like the perfect older sister she is.’
Calliope made a face at her. ‘I never order people around. I am as agreeable as a summer’s day.’
Thalia and Cameron exchanged a wry glance past Calliope’s bonnet brim.
‘Who is in the book today?’ Thalia asked.
‘Not very many names as of yet,’ he answered. ‘None of our acquaintances, anyway. Just a woman named Lady Riverton. Would she be the widow of old Viscount Riverton, the antiquarian? I never met him, but my father said his collection of Greek coins was very fine.’
Thalia froze, her fingers tightening on her glass. ‘Did you say Lady Riverton?’ she said hoarsely.
Calliope gave her a puzzled glance. ‘Do you know her, Thalia?’
Calliope did not know the complete story of the events in Sicily. Thalia simply hadn’t known how to tell her. How did one explain stolen silver caches, ghosts and breaking into a man’s house in the middle of the night? It all sounded bacon-brained in the extreme. So Calliope did not know what Lady Riverton had done, hiring ruthless thieves to help her steal the silver altar set, and then double-crossing even them to escape with her ill-gotten treasure.
And now she was in Bath, of all places! How could that possibly be? Showing up and brazenly signing the book. She must feel rather secure, knowing Marco, Clio and the Duke of Averton were far away, and no one among the invalids and retired clergymen would know her bad deeds. Had she come to hide the silver? Or chase some other treasure? Lord Grimsby was correct, there were many Roman sites nearby.
Well, Lady Riverton had obviously not counted on Thalia. That would be her undoing. Thalia was accustomed to being underestimated. Her blonde curls and blue eyes fooled many into thinking her merely fluffy and empty-headed. She knew now how to work such low expectations to her advantage.
Lady Riverton would be very sorry she ever came to Bath.
‘Thalia?’ Calliope said. ‘Do you know this Lady Riverton?’
‘There was a Lady Riverton in Sicily,’ Thalia answered lightly. ‘A ridiculous lady with far too many hats, and a fawning cicisbeo named Mr Frobisher who followed her everywhere.’ Frobisher—one of Lady Riverton’s greedy dupes. He was paying the price now. But Thalia saw no need to mention that.
‘I take it you were not exactly bosom bows,’ Cameron said wryly.
‘You could say that.’
‘Well, perhaps this is a different Lady Riverton,’ Calliope said. ‘I should hate to meet such a creature just now. The combination of ridiculous bonnets with all this water would be too much for my constitution.’
Thalia handed her empty glass to a passing attendant. ‘Excuse me for a moment, Cal,’ she said. ‘I see someone I must speak to.’
She strolled away, keeping to the edges of the room where the crowds were thinner. Though she walked slowly, smiling and nodding at acquaintances as if she hadn’t a care in the world and no place to be, she carefully scanned each face. Each overly adorned bonnet. If Lady Riverton was indeed here, Thalia would find her. She could not hide.
Thalia felt more excited than she had since leaving Santa Lucia. She had a purpose again, an errand! A way to do something useful. Oh, if only Clio were here, so they could work together again as they had on the ghost play that had flushed out Mr Frobisher and the true villain, Lady Riverton. If only…
If only Marco were here. Despite their bickering, they had proved to be a fine team when united in a scheme.
But she was alone as she circled the Pump Room, dodging walking sticks and offers of yet more water. It was all up to her now.
There was no sign of Lady Riverton, and Thalia had begun to despair of her errand when at last she caught a glimpse of a tall-crowned brown satin hat trimmed with bright blue and yellow feathers. They waved above the crowd like a gaudy beacon.
Thalia stretched up on tiptoe, straining for a better glimpse. Not for the first time, she wished she were taller, more like Clio. All she could see were backs, blocking her view! Using her elbow again, she forced her way through at last to a somewhat clearer space near the counter.
The woman with the feathers was just taking a glass of water. Her brown satin pelisse and a cameo earring, a chestnut ringlet, was all Thalia could see. But then she laughed, that dreadful high-pitched giggle Thalia well remembered. It was Lady Riverton, without a doubt.
Thalia’s first, fiery instinct was to dash forward, snatch that terrible hat off the woman’s head—along with a handful of hair!—and demand to know where the silver was. But even she, with all her Chase impulsiveness, knew that causing a scene in the Pump Room would avail her nothing. It would cause a scandal, and worse would tip her hand to Lady Riverton, making it all too easy for her to escape again.
No, she had to bide her time. Plan her next move carefully. She wouldn’t fail again.
She slid closer to Lady Riverton, who was chattering away as if she was in no way guilty of anything but crimes of fashion. ‘…must procure theatre tickets tout suite, my dear! There is no finer way to meet people in Bath, I am sure. The Upper Rooms can be such a squeeze, but only the very best people are in the theatre boxes.’
Thalia nearly laughed aloud, wondering what Lady Riverton’s idea of the ‘best people’ could possibly be. And who was the poor man being forced to listen to such faradiddle? He was too tall to be Mr Frobisher, who as far as Thalia knew was still in the Santa Lucia gaol. As she watched, Lady Riverton took her escort’s arm and the pair of them turned to stroll away into the crowd.
Thalia hurried in the direction of their path, nearly tripping over the front wheel of yet another Bath chair. By Jove, but those things were a menace! At last she came face to face with Lady Riverton, and saw that her escort was…
Marco. The Count di Fabrizzi himself, in all his Roman-god handsome splendour.
For an instant, all she could do was gape at him in utter astonishment. Surely it could not be! Perhaps he had a twin. An evil twin, who paraded around the spa towns of Europe with silly females, and stole their jewels when they were not looking. She had read about such men.
But even as the absurd thought flitted through her mind, she knew that it really was Marco who stood there. No one else could have eyes like that.
As he glimpsed her, those dark eyes widened in surprise, and a smile touched his lips. A mere flash of the dimple set deep in his smooth olive cheek. Then it was as if he suddenly remembered their true situation, and that smile vanished. The spark deep in his eyes went out, and he watched her warily.
As if he did remember—remember that night she had broken into his house, and had no idea what unpredictable thing she might do now.
Thalia smiled politely, sweetly, and said in her brightest voice, ‘Lady Riverton! Count di Fabrizzi. What a great surprise to see you here in Bath. It has been far too long since we last met.’
Lady Riverton smiled and nodded, those feathers bobbing maniacally. Marco
