“Your theory is creative,” Thornton conceded. “Though I confess I fail to see how mutual misunderstanding advances your cause. Generally speaking, understanding tends to be more conducive to romance than confusion.”
“Because it creates perfect conditions for dramatic resolution!” Eugenia declared, waving away such pedantic concerns. “And fortune—or perhaps Providence—has provided the ideal opportunity. Count Morosini is hosting a grand masquerade ball in the Byzantine style within the fortnight. All the English residents are to be invited.”
Thornton’s smile held equal parts amusement and apprehension. “A masquerade, you say? And how will this further your agenda when the couple currently reside under the same roof and can speak whenever they wish? What mischief are you contemplating?”
“Not mischief! Romantic intervention of the most sophisticated kind!” Eugenia protested with wounded dignity. “A masquerade ball would provide an opportunity for… shall we say, strategic costume choices that might capture a certain gentleman’s attention.”
“Strategic costume choices,” Thornton repeated slowly. “Why do I feel this will involve considerable expense and even more considerable drama?”
“I may have suggested,” Eugenia continued, ignoringhis interjection, “that appearing as a Byzantine empress—all gold and jewels and imperial splendor—might serve to remind certain scholarly gentlemen that beauty and wealth, when combined with genuine affection, need not be obstacles to happiness but rather gifts to be gratefully received.”
“In other words,” Thornton translated dryly, “you intend to dress the girl so magnificently that our modest diplomatist will be overwhelmed by her sheer radiance.” He frowned. “But such magnificence will only reinforce that she’s too far above him in station—”
“Thornton!” Eugenia protested. “Have you no imagination whatsoever? First, I do not agree with you on this point, as youvery well know. I’m persuaded Miss Playford would have him if he only asked. And the anonymity of a masquerade might provide the perfect opportunity for a lady to… take certain initiatives that strict propriety might otherwise prohibit.”
She leaned back with satisfaction. “A masked lady, after all, might dance more than the usual conventions would allow, speak more freely, even—” she paused for dramatic effect, “—steal a private moment in a moonlit garden for purposes of clarifying unfortunate misunderstandings.”
Lord Thornton shook his head with reluctant admiration. “I admire your determination in the face of what I see as clear defeat, Eugenia.”
“I preferdetermined,” she replied serenely. “These two young people are clearly destined for one another, and if gentle manipulation of circumstances is required to overcome their mutual diffidence and his misguided sense of social inequality, then I consider such intervention a positive moral duty.”
“Moral duty,” Thornton muttered. “Is that what we’re calling such blatant interference now?”
She smoothed her skirts with satisfaction, ignoring him. “Besides, think of the delicious irony—Mr. Rothbury, who’s been so scrupulous about observing proper social boundaries, will find himself in anenvironment specifically designed to blur such distinctions. A masquerade is democracy in silk and satin, where a count might dance with a merchant’s daughter and no one’s the wiser.”
“And what of your own interests in this entertainment?” Thornton inquired.
Eugenia studied her fingernails. “I confess the prospect of a romantic Venetian evening, complete with masks and moonlight, holds certain appeal. One is never too mature to appreciate beauty and atmosphere.”
“Particularly when one has recently staked one’s belovedPersephoneon the outcome of romantic proceedings?”
“The wager was merely a gesture of confidence,” Eugenia replied with dignity. “Though I admit, losing that painting to your smug satisfaction would be vexing. Intolerable, actually.”
Thornton rose and moved to the window, gazing at the canal where evening light painted the water in shades of rose and gold. “You realize masquerades can be dangerous affairs? The very anonymity you see as advantageous also provides cover for less wholesome activities. Venice has a reputation for intrigue.”
“All the more reason to ensure our young people find happiness quickly,” Eugenia replied briskly. “Besides, what harm could possibly come to them in the palazzo of a respected Venetian nobleman, surrounded by the entire English community?”
“Famous last words,” Thornton murmured as he turned away.
Eugenia joined him at the window, her heart suddenly beginning to beat very fast as she wondered whether to seize this opportunity for candor. “Do you truly think I’m overreaching, Thornton? Sometimes I wonder if my desire to see others happy is merely a substitute for… other concerns.”
There. She’d said it. Sort of.
Thornton turned to her, his expression softening. “I think, dear Eugenia, that your gift for understanding the humanheart is exceeded only by your generosity in wishing to share the happiness you’ve observed in others. If that isn’t the finest motivation for matchmaking, I cannot imagine what would be.”
She gave a satisfied smile, warmth flooding through her. “You always know precisely what to say to restore my confidence in my schemes.”
“Not always,” he replied quietly, his gaze lingering on her face with an intensity that made her pulse quicken in a thoroughly unseemly manner for a woman of her years. “But in this instance, I believe your instincts are sound. Those two young people are indeed perfectly suited, and if a Byzantine masquerade provides the stage for their romantic denouement, I can think of worse settings.”
“Then you’ll support my plans?”
“Your plans?” He smiled, and something in his expression made her breath catch. “I will supportyou, Eugenia. As I have for thirty years, and as I hope to for thirty more.”
The moment hung between them, weighted with things unsaid.
“Well,” Eugenia managed, suddenly finding the view of the canal extraordinarily fascinating. “That’s settled then. I shall begin costume arrangements immediately. And perhaps consult Miss Bentley—though heaven knows she’ll have opinions on everything under the sun that will need to be diplomatically circumvented if I am to achieve my aims.”
“Heaven forbid anyone circumvent Miss Bentley’s opinions,” Thornton said, the moment passing as his tone returned to its usual dry humor. “The woman’s sense of propriety would, I am sure, put Captain Rizzi to shame.”
