Page 35

“Well, I for one can’t wait to see the final sculpture. And I still say you downplay your skills as a draftswoman,” said Lana, handing the sketch back.

“I’ve always been jealous of your ability to draw and sculpt,” said Christine.

Ina shot her a rueful smile. “And I’ve always been envious of your voice. What is your next performance?”

Christine sighed. “All Mozart. I have arias from Così fan tutte and Der Rosenkavalier for this recital. I’ve been promised there will be a new production from Paris to perform next season, with a role that’s perfect for my voice.”

Ina pressed her hand to her friend’s in silent commiseration. The theater owner, Barnard Collins, refused to cast Christine—a well-regarded and popular singer all across Britain—in anything but recitals. His excuse might be that the concerts required nothing more than Christine and an accompanist and were, therefore, far more profitable than staging a full production, but none of them doubted the craven man also wanted to avoid the scandal of placing a black mezzo-soprano opposite a white tenor.

“What is the opera called?” asked Anne.

“Carmen, but I’m not hopeful,” said Christine. “Mr. Collins always finds a way to back out of his promises.”

“Well, we’ll have to hope that Carmen becomes so popular he’d be a fool not to bring it to Edinburgh and cast you in it,” said Lana. “And maybe persuade Ina’s Mrs. Sullivan to suggest as much to Mr. Collins.”

“At this point, I’ll gladly take anyone’s good word if it means a production,” said Christine.

Cups rattled on the tea cart as a maid pushed it in followed by Norris carrying a chair under each arm. The butler made a little circle around the sofa Ina had commandeered for the space, and the ladies sat down to tea.

“You’re my first visitors,” said Ina as she prepared the pot. “So far Mrs. Hart’s cooking has been excellent, but I have yet to sample one of her teas.”

“If it’s as good as it looks, I’m sure we won’t have any trouble at all,” said Anne.

Ina handed cups around and relaxed into the comfort of this ritual they’d repeated many times before. The only difference was she was in her own home, entertaining on her own terms. She didn’t have to worry about her father taking a rare turn around the house and stumbling on them chattering away. Even better, her aunt couldn’t frown when her friends stayed for hours.

Of course, that also meant her friends could speak without fear of being overheard.

It took Lana exactly one sip of tea before fixing Ina with a stare. “Well?”

She lifted her cup to her lips and tried to pretend she didn’t know exactly what her friend wanted from her. “Well what?”

Christine’s eyebrows shot up. “If you have to ask . . .”

Carefully, she sat down her tea and smoothed her hands over her lap. “I thought a lady wasn’t supposed to discuss the details of her wedding night.”

“As though anyone follows that rule,” Lana said with a snort. Pale and angelic though Ina’s friend might look with her wheat-blond hair, she rarely could abide “ladylike” behavior.

“Did you? That is to say . . .” Anne frowned. “What I’m trying to ask—”

“Is whether or not you enjoyed your wedding night,” finished Christine. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Anne, who was already blushing to the roots of her light brown hair, turned tomato red. “Maybe not for you. You’ve already been married.”

“And so is Ina,” said Lana. “Now tell us everything.”

And just like that, all of the anger she’d tried to leave on the other side of her studio’s threshold bubbled up again.

“It wasn’t exactly what a girl spends her nights dreaming of,” she said.

Lana actually gasped. “Oh no. He was lacking?”

“Or maybe he was too zealous with the port,” said Christine. “There are more than a few stories about grooms who were unable to perform their marital duties because of a few too many trips to the decanter.”

“No. It wasn’t that at all,” she said. I wish it had been.

“He wasn’t a virgin, was he? Not that virgins can’t be taught,” said Lana, looking rather pleased with the idea.

“What?” Ina asked with a surprised laugh. “No. He knew what he was doing, I just . . .”