“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 heisexceedingly 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.
