must keep up standards, Lady Westwood, even in Bath. Such a treat to have some of the Chase gels in our midst. You will come to our meeting next week?’
‘We would enjoy that,’ said Thalia. ‘But I fear my sister is under very strict orders to rest.’
Lord Grimsby chortled again, his old-fashioned wig trembling. ‘Aren’t we all, Miss Chase? What else is Bath for but to rest? That doesn’t mean we should rest our minds, as I’m sure your father would agree. Our meetings are very quiet, pleasant affairs. I will have Lady Grimsby call on you tomorrow. Until then!’
As Lord Grimsby limped away, Calliope gave their coins to the attendant and accepted two glasses of the water. ‘No demands on our time, eh?’ she whispered.
Thalia laughed. ‘I forgot Father has friends everywhere. We could probably set up camp on a mountaintop and someone would come along with an invitation to a lecture.’
‘Well, since Cam has joined forces with the blasted doctors and forbidden dancing, I must take my amusement where I can find it,’ Calliope said. She took a sip of water, and wrinkled her nose.
‘Drink it all, Cal,’ Thalia said, taking a suspicious sniff of her own glass. ‘Sulphur and iron, delicious!’
Calliope laughed, too. ‘Not exactly French champagne, is it?’
‘It is Bath champagne, and will make you strong again.’
Calliope raised her glass. ‘Here is a toast. May we all be well enough to travel to Italy next year.’
‘I will certainly drink to that.’ As Thalia clicked her glass with her sister’s, she couldn’t help remembering a pair of dark eyes, a wide, merry grin. A man who seemed a very part of the warmth and freedom of Italy. Part of the exhilaration of life, of real life, messy and complicated and beautiful.
Not this pallid reflection of existence. Not the constant hollow loneliness of feeling adrift in the world.
She took a drink of her water, and it was just as flat and stale as everything else had been since she had left Sicily and Count Marco di Fabrizzi. Grey. She gazed over the glass rim at the room beyond, at the constantly shifting crowd.
And suddenly she was tired. Tired of herself, her moping ways ever since she had returned to England. Moping never got anyone anywhere, she knew that well.
‘You know, Cal,’she said, ‘if we cannot get to Italy now, we must make Italy come to us.’
Calliope, who had been frowning into her glass, brightened. ‘How so, sister?’
‘We shall have a party, just as you wanted. Our own Venetian ridotto.’
‘In our little drawing room?’ Calliope said with a laugh.
‘A miniature ridotto, then. With music, wine, games.You can wear a fine new gown, and preside over the festivities from a regal chaise. That should make the doctors happy. And I will perform scenes from—from The Merchant of Venice! And Venice Preserved.’
‘How delightful! I do want a new gown to show off the fact that I once again have a waist. Who shall we invite?’
Thalia surveyed the room again. ‘Oh, dear. I fear it shall be a rather sedate ridotto. We must be some of the very few people under the age of fifty here!’
‘No matter. A party is a party.’ Calliope set about doing what she did best—organising.
By the time Cameron joined them, bearing yet more water, they had the plans well in hand.
‘You see, my dearest,’ he said happily, ‘you have roses in your cheeks already.’
‘That is because she has me to order around,’ Thalia said. ‘Like the perfect older sister she is.’
Calliope made a face at her. ‘I never order people around. I am as agreeable as a summer’s day.’
Thalia and Cameron exchanged a wry glance past Calliope’s bonnet brim.
‘Who is in the book today?’ Thalia asked.
‘Not very many names as of yet,’ he answered. ‘None of our acquaintances, anyway. Just a woman named Lady Riverton. Would she be the widow of old Viscount Riverton, the antiquarian? I never met him, but my father said his collection of Greek coins was very fine.’
Thalia froze, her fingers tightening on her glass. ‘Did you say Lady Riverton?’ she said hoarsely.
Calliope gave her a puzzled glance. ‘Do you know her, Thalia?’
Calliope did not know the complete story of the events in Sicily. Thalia simply hadn’t known how to tell her. How did one explain stolen silver caches, ghosts and breaking into a man’s house in the middle of the night? It all sounded bacon-brained in the extreme. So Calliope did not know what Lady Riverton had done, hiring ruthless thieves to help her steal the silver altar set, and then double-crossing even them to escape with her ill-gotten treasure.
And now she was in Bath, of all places! How could that possibly be? Showing up and brazenly signing the book. She must feel rather secure, knowing Marco, Clio and the Duke of Averton were far away, and no one among the invalids and retired clergymen would know her bad deeds. Had she come to hide the silver? Or chase some other treasure? Lord Grimsby was correct, there were many Roman sites nearby.
Well, Lady Riverton had obviously not counted on Thalia. That would be her undoing. Thalia was accustomed to being underestimated. Her blonde curls and blue eyes fooled many into thinking her merely fluffy and empty-headed. She knew now how to work such low expectations to her advantage.
Lady Riverton would be very sorry she ever came to Bath.
‘Thalia?’ Calliope said. ‘Do you know this Lady Riverton?’
‘There was a Lady Riverton in Sicily,’ Thalia answered lightly. ‘A ridiculous lady with far too many hats, and a fawning cicisbeo named Mr Frobisher who followed her everywhere.’ Frobisher—one of Lady Riverton’s greedy dupes. He was paying the price now. But Thalia saw no need to mention that.
‘I take it you were not exactly bosom bows,’ Cameron said wryly.
‘You could say that.’
‘Well, perhaps this is a different Lady Riverton,’ Calliope said. ‘I should hate to meet such a creature just now. The combination of ridiculous bonnets with all this water would be too much for my constitution.’
Thalia handed her empty glass to a passing attendant. ‘Excuse me for a moment, Cal,’ she said. ‘I see someone I must speak to.’
She strolled away, keeping to the edges of the room where the crowds were thinner. Though she walked slowly, smiling and nodding at acquaintances as if she hadn’t a care in the world and no place to be, she carefully scanned each face. Each overly adorned bonnet. If Lady Riverton was indeed here, Thalia would find her. She could not hide.
Thalia felt more excited than she had since leaving Santa Lucia. She had a purpose again, an errand! A way to do something useful. Oh, if only Clio were here, so they could work together again as they had on the ghost play that had flushed out Mr Frobisher and the true villain, Lady Riverton. If only…
If only Marco were here. Despite their bickering, they had proved to be a fine team when united in a scheme.
But she was alone as she circled the Pump Room, dodging walking sticks and offers of yet more water. It was all up to her now.
There was no sign of Lady Riverton, and Thalia had begun to despair of her errand when at last she caught a glimpse of a tall-crowned brown satin hat trimmed with bright blue and yellow feathers. They waved above the crowd like a gaudy beacon.
Thalia stretched up on tiptoe, straining for a better glimpse. Not for the first time, she wished she were taller, more like Clio. All she could see were backs, blocking her view! Using her elbow again, she forced her way through at last to a somewhat