Chapter 4
Thalia laid her knife and fork on her plate slowly as she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.
Her father, for once, had elected to breakfast with her, although he had disappeared behind the broad sheets of a newspaper, and the silence ate away at her.
Silence was better than the alternative, but whenever her father was around, she felt on edge. He was dynamite in coal—when he exploded, the fire could last for days.
When the doorbell rang, her father slowly lowered his newspaper. His eyes were bloodshot, no doubt a result of his excesses the night before, but he was sadly very sober and with all his faculties.
“Who is that at this hour?” he demanded.
“I expect it is Lady Bloomsby,” Thalia said. “She said she would call this morning.”
Sure enough, Anna sailed in after the butler announced her. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “Is it not a wonderful morning? Lord Gilford, what a pleasure to see you! I have come to collect dear Thalia.”
“To go where?”
“For a walk in Hyde Park.” Anna smiled, twirling her parasol.
So, she had come prepared for a deception. Thalia admired her forward thinking.
“Is that so?” Her father laid the newspaper down with precision and turned his smile to Anna, who looked as though she were charmed rather than repulsed. “Then, my dear, you must do what you can to find my daughter a husband the way you did.”
Anna blinked, her expression frozen for a heartbeat. Thalia sent her a pleading glance, and after another second, she smiled. “Well, I can’t promise another gentleman like my husband, but I shall try my very best.”
Thalia joined her friend by her side and squeezed her arm the moment her father glanced away. Lord only knew how Anna had resisted throwing something at her father.
“May I go?” Thalia asked.
Her father waved a hand. “Go and find a gentleman prepared to marry you. My patience wears thin.”
His patience was not the only thing worn down. But Thalia managed to nod and hurry out of the house with Anna by her side.
As soon as they were in the fresh air, she heaved a sigh. “I thought he would never let me leave.”
“All you ever need to do is hint at finding a husband, and he will allow you to go anywhere,” Anna said, linking her arm through hers. “And he won’t ask too many questions. I get the impression he would allow for almost anything so long as you were married by the end of it.”
“How fortunate I am to have such a father,” she deadpanned, and Anna laughed.
“Fortunate that he doesn’t interfere with everything else you do.” She climbed into her carriage, and Thalia followed.
This was a very different carriage ride from the one she had taken with the Duke, though she did her best not to think too much about it.
They traveled to Elliot’s lodgings, a rather fine apartment in an almost-fashionable part of London. He had not reached the heart of Park Lane and Mayfair, but he was still, nevertheless a man of style.
Elliot met them at the door and bowed them through to his studio, where Thalia did most of her sculpting.
The light here was airy, helped by the large windows. Slabs of marble ringed the walls for future projects. Standing in the middle was her current work: a beautiful lady draped in gauzy cloth, posed with one arm outstretched as though reaching for a distant lover.
Or at least, that was what it would be. Thalia could see her vision for it in her mind’s eye, clear as day. Currently, it had merely begun to take the shape of a person, with a head, torso, and a jagged lump of an arm.
As she got to work, Elliot called for tea, which a maid brought through to a small table at one side of the room. Sometimes, when necessary, he offered comments and guidance, but it had been some time since Thalia had last needed instruction.
“The student has usurped the master,” he said fondly, watching her.
She wore an apron over her dress and would have to wash stone dust from herself before leaving later.
“Tell me what happened at the club,” Anna said, sipping at her tea.
Thalia’s hand slipped. She stared at the white stone absently as her mind once again provided her with an image of the Duke staring down at her with his cold, intense eyes.
“Well, I was able to pay off the remainder of my debts.” Elliot folded his legs as he watched Thalia. “But my companion left before I did.”
“More like I was escorted from the premises,” Thalia said.
Anna gasped. “By whom?”
“Who do you suppose? None other than His Grace, the Duke of Marrowhurst. Your husband’s dear friend.
He implied that I would get in trouble if I stayed—which was only a direct consequence of his drawing attention to me—and insisted on taking me home.
I had very little choice in the matter, believe me. ”
“A brute,” Elliot said feelingly. “I knew it as soon as I saw the way he attacked those thugs the other night. No well-meaning gentleman knows how to fight in that way.”
Thalia tossed her head, though a handkerchief held her hair from her face. “I quite agree.”
Anna tilted her head. “It sounds as though he was watching out for you, Thal.”
“Only for his own gain, so he might feel good about himself. None of his antics have been for my sake, I assure you.”
“Mm.”
“Anna.” Thalia speared her friend with a glance. “Are you implying that he is a good man?”
“Do you not think it possible?”
“Decidedly not!” Thalia glowered at them both. “How could I think a man prepared to kidnap me would be in any way a good man?”
“Well, because I think he was more saving you than kidnapping you.”
“He is a fiend. I despise him.”
Anna placed her cup back in its saucer with a tiny rattle of china. “Do you really?”
“If you’re suggesting that I feel something other than anger toward him, then you will find yourself mistaken,” Thalia snapped. “He is nothing more than a scoundrel who disregards women’s thoughts and opinions.”
Anna made a small humming noise. “Except when he listened and obliged your desire not to marry him.”
“That was entirely different!”
“And he is exceedingly handsome.”
Thalia caught herself before she could agree, though, of course, she did recognize the truth of those words.
No one with eyes could feel any different.
But that changed nothing. A handsome man was nothing more than a handsome man, and if his character left something to be desired, there was no recovering from that.
“I think you should stay away from him,” Elliot said, holding up his hand as though to appease the two ladies. “Who knows what might happen if he discovers you are the mysterious sculptor?”
“The one he so derided?” Anna snorted.
“He only said that out of ignorance,” Thalia said.
“And he will never discover my identity. He has no interest in uncovering such truths, aside from anything else. No one knows we come here, and the world believes Alessandro is a man.” She pursed her lips as she thought.
“Still, I agree I ought to keep my distance from the Duke regardless. Just in case.”
Just in case she ever felt like kissing him again. That had been wholly unwelcome, and she blamed him entirely for it.
If she had her way, she would never have to see him again.
“Papa, it’s just the opera,” Thalia said a week later to her father. “Everyone who is anyone goes to the opera. Surely you must know that.”
“Bah.” He scowled at her in all her finery. Thalia had loved the arts for as long as she could remember—ballet, opera, and recitals. She had no musical talent, but she admired those who did.
“Besides,” Anna said, leaning over Thalia’s shoulder and smiling, “there are bound to be eligible gentlemen there.”
Simon, Anna’s husband, gave her a briefly puzzled glance that dissolved into understanding when Thalia’s father heaved a sigh.
“There is nothing worse for our good country than a collection of squawking peacocks, but if going will introduce Thalia to whoever she must be introduced to in order to marry, then so be it. Take her. Go,” he said to her now. “Get out of my sight. Come back with a beau or two, do you hear?”
Thalia did not deign to answer, accepting Simon’s arm and allowing him to lead her from the room. They were all three dressed up. Given her father’s reluctance to engage in any social events that didn’t involve cards, it fell to Anna and Simon to escort Thalia anywhere she wished to go.
“Ignore him,” she said to Simon. “He is truly a miserable man who has never known a moment of joy in his life.”
“Our Thalia has no intention of marrying at present,” Anna said.
Thalia grinned. No—with all her sculptures to work on, she barely had time for her friends, never mind a husband. From what she understood, they were exceedingly trying creatures.
Not Simon, of course. Anna and Simon were disgustingly happy. But Thalia could not aspire to Anna’s good fortune.
If she were lucky, her father would eventually find a more solid source of income and not care so much about feeding her. Then she would be free to work on her sculptures, finally finding financial independence.
If she were less lucky, she would marry an elderly gentleman without all his teeth, who would die within a year or so, leaving her with his fortune and the freedom that came with being a widow.
She would just have to endure the marriage first.
The opera was bustling, as it always was. They ascended the steps and entered the building, walking along the red carpeted floor to the second story, where the Bloomsby box was located.
On the way, as luck would have it, they encountered the Duke with Lady Rivenhall and Miss Lydia Parsons by his side. Lady Rivenhall recognized her with a sharply unamused half-smile and a nod, but Miss Parsons broke into a bright smile of recognition.
“Lady Thalia,” she said, forgetting about propriety as she reached out to clasp Thalia’s hand. “How fortunate we are to see you again.”
Thalia glanced at the Duke, whose face was coldly remote. He was so very handsome, and she blamed her noticing because of how Anna had mentioned his good looks before.