‘I don’t want to alarm you…’ Florence twisted to look up at him with a serious expression, though if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of mischief in her eyes too ‘…but there aren’t any mountains.’
He scanned his eyes over the dimly lit panorama before them, then threw back his head and laughed. She was right, there wasn’t a single mountain in sight. Instead, the entire interior of the building, a cylindrical structure temporarily erected in the centre of Leicester Square, was covered from floor-to-ceiling with a vast painting of the Trojan War.
‘Perhaps we should we go to the Royal Academy instead.’ She was grinning outright now, her eyes sparkling in a way that lit up her whole face. ‘They probably havelotsof mountains. I’m just not certain it counts as art without them.’
‘I’m sure that’s what my father would have thought, but I think I’ll manage for one day.’ He chuckled as they steppeddown into the room, where several other people were gathered in groups, admiring the vista.
‘Good, because this is very impressive.’ Florence twirled around as she walked beside him. ‘It’s like we’re actually in Ancient Greece.’
‘I saw a panorama last year of the Battle of Trafalgar, but this is even better.’ Leo peered closer at the wall. On one side of the room was the huge walled city of Troy, on the other, the Greek camp and the sea behind it, illuminated by narrow, half-concealed windows in the ceiling. To add to the mood, a group of musicians sat on one side of the room, playing harps and flutes.
‘Look.’ Leo pointed to two small figures standing on top of the city walls. ‘That must be Helen and Paris on the battlements.’
‘Or Hector and Andromache.’ Florence moved a step closer, bringing her face alongside his. ‘I always felt sorry for them. They didn’t do anything wrong, yet they suffered the consequences of Helen and Paris’s actions anyway.’
He half turned his head, surreptitiously admiring the soft curve of her cheek and her small, slightly pointed chin. It made it somewhat difficult to concentrate on the painting. ‘Maybe they thought Helen was worth it?’
‘Maybe.’ She sounded dubious. ‘But don’t you think Helen must have known what would happen when she ran away with Paris? Yet she wreaked all that destruction just to be with him.’
‘It was a great love story.’
‘What about Hector and Andromache’s love story?’ She sounded indignant. ‘I wonder if either Helen or Paris ever considered the effect on them.’
‘How about a different love story, then?’ He waved towards two other figures, half hidden in a cluster of trees a few feet from the great walls of Troy. ‘There are Troilus and Cressida.’
She seemed to freeze beside him, her tone turning hard before she turned away abruptly. ‘Cressida betrayed Troilus, did she not? Hardly a great love story.’
He furrowed his brow, surprised by the sudden shift in her mood, following her towards the Greek camp.
‘Look, there are Agamemnon and Menelaus, storming about in front of their tents.’ Florence pointed, her tone lighter again. ‘And there’s Odysseus, building his wooden horse.’ She shook her head with an expression of wonderment. ‘It’s a magnificent painting. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Amabel and I wanted to come earlier in the Season, but we never got round to it.’
‘Then I’m glad we have the opportunity now.’ He gestured towards some wooden chairs set in the centre of the room. ‘Shall we sit and take it in for a while?’
‘Good idea.’ She took a seat beside him, innocently arranging her skirts in a way that drew his attention straight to her thighs.
‘So…’ He wrenched his gaze upwards again. ‘Is there anywhere else you’d like to visit while we’re in London? The British Museum? Astley’s Amphitheatre?’
‘Actually I’ve always wanted to visit the Tower, but Lady Wadlow said it was too educational.’
‘How shocking.’ He laughed. ‘But I’m sure we can manage that.’
She twisted in her chair, fixing him with a speculative look.
‘What is it?’ He arched an eyebrow.
‘I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before. It makes you look like Cassie.’
‘Really?’ Heat radiated through his chest at the words. ‘She looks like our mother.’
Her expression shifted. ‘Cassie told me a little about her, about how young you were when she died. I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you.’
‘She told me about your childhood too, and how much you both dislike Rainton Court because of it.’
‘Dislike?’ He made a sceptical sound. ‘That sounds like an understatement for my sister.’
‘You’re right. She said you both despise it.’
