She swallowed. “You have a problem with his, er, size?”
Gabby’s red curls bobbed emphatically as she led them around a corner. “I prefer a gentleman who is less overwhelming in every respect. More refined, if you know what I mean. Not short, but a nice manageable height that doesn’t give one a crick in the neck when one is speaking to him.” Her eyes grew dreamy. “Someone who likes to spend hours having cozy chats in front of the fire, who likes to shop, who likes cats more than dogs—”
“Why does he have to prefer cats over dogs?” Vi wanted to know.
“BecauseIdo. And my ideal husband and I would agree in all things.”
Polly looked doubtful. “I’m not sure marriage works that way.”
Vi had to agree with her sister. The couples in their family tended to be as passionate in their conflicts as they were in their love for one another.
“That’s howmymarriage would work,” Gabby said fiercely, “if I were given a chance to decide my own fate.”
“Won’t your father allow you to choose your husband?” Vi asked.
“He’ll consider my wishes, but he has his own ideas as well.”
“Surely you would be the best judge of the husband you’d want,” Vi said reasonably. “You’re the one who has to live with the fellow after all—”
A loud shatter startled her, drowning her out. She heard raised female voices coming from behind the closed door up ahead. For once, she wished she’d paid more attention during her lessons with Monsieur Le Roche. The argument was happening in rapid-fire French, and she couldn’t comprehend a thing.
“What’s going on?” she said.
Polly shook her head. “They’re talking too fast for me to—”
The door flung open, and Josephine Ashe stormed out. She was still dressed in the clothes from her performance, angry color blotching her cheeks. She stopped short at the sight of them.
“Miss Ashe.” Brow furrowed, Gabby said, “Is something amiss?”
“It’s nothing—nothing at all.” Miss Ashe dropped a hasty curtsy. Ran a hand through her cropped blond locks. “I was just on my way.”
“Oh. Well, of course. Don’t let us detain you—”
Before Gabby finished speaking, the juggler was already halfway down the hall.
“Crumpets.” Vi stared after Miss Ashe. “What wasthatabout?”
“As the English like to say, it was much ado about nothing.”
Vi spun in the direction of the sultry, accented voice. Posed in the doorway, Madame Monique was draped in a flowing robe of pink chiffon, her dark coronet studded with pearl-tipped pins. “My visitors have arrived, I see.” She waved an imperious hand. “Come.”
Polly slid Vi an uncertain glance.
Vi wasn’t going to let some squabble get in the way of meeting her idol. Tugging Polly along, she led the way toward the acrobat’s suite. “Thank you for the invitation, Madame.”
“I must be off. See you all at supper?” Gabby said.
The diva inclined her head.“And if you could be so kind as to have a new looking glass delivered, Mademoiselle Billings? The current one has suffered a mishap.”
As Violet followed Madame Monique into the suite, she thoughtmishapmight be a euphemism. The looking glass above the vanity had been smashed to smithereens. The remnants of a broken vase mingled with shards of glass upon the vanity and surrounding carpet. A maid with a severe grey bun and weathered countenance was on her knees, cleaning up the mess.
“Laisse, Jeanne,” Madame Monique chided. “I’ll send for someone to take care of it.”
“It is no trouble, Madame—”
“Have a care with your hands, yes? They are far too valuable to risk doing such work.” The acrobat’s tone was gentle yet firm.
Jeanne rose stiffly. “As you wish, Madame. I shall prepare your toilette.” For an instant, she studied Vi and Polly with rheumy, shrewd eyes before shuffling off.
