"I disagree with you. Mr. Attewater was completely candid about his work. He has no intention to deceive. Furthermore, I would not have expected someone with your liberal views to lecture me on the company I keep. It's not as if I intend to dance with him." I glared at him. He met my stare with one of his own.

"I'm only trying to help you, Emily. I admit I did not expect to receive such an immature response."

"Happily, as you are not my husband, I do not have to give your opinion more attention than I choose," I snapped. "Good day, Mr. Hargreaves." I grabbed my sketchbook from his hand and marched out of the museum, pleased beyond imagining that there was no man to whom I had to answer for my actions.


"He is absolutely infuriating!" I exclaimed to Cécile as we rode in her carriage to a party at Gordon Bennett's house that evening. "Can you believe he had the gall to speak to me like that?"

"I admit it is somewhat surprising, given what little I've heard about him."

"His character is full of hypocrisy, and I shan't waste another moment thinking about him."

"I imagine you won't," Cécile replied sarcastically, not even having the courtesy to pretend to believe me. "I think he's a very interesting man."

"Who cares? Did I tell you the story of Philip's triumphant elephant hunt?"

"Yes, chérie, you did. I thought you disliked hunting."

"I do. But it seems that Philip was able to commune with the animals in a way that was truly noble."

"If he really communed with the animals, I would think he wouldn't have wanted to shoot them. I must say that your renewed interest in Philip is somewhere between distressing and morbid. It is time that you move on, Kallista. Philip was a good man, but he is dead. You can get nothing more from him, especially love."

"You're right, of course, but I cannot help regretting that I did not know the man better. He grows more fascinating with every account of him that I hear. Arthur Palmer called on me yesterday and told me that Philip actually arranged to have the son of one of their African guides schooled in England. Apparently the boy speaks quite good English."

"No one questions Philip's excellent character. I only ask that you remember he is dead."

"I know that quite well," I said sharply.

"I think it's what makes him so appealing to you. After all, he's not here to tell you to keep within the confines of good society."

"Well, that certainly doesn't hurt," I admitted, my good temper slowly returning.

"Who is this Arthur Palmer? Is he as handsome as Colin Hargreaves?"

"Not at all! The elder brother, Andrew, got all the good looks the family has to offer. I don't really know him, so I can't comment on his personality. Their father was a friend of Philip's and is marvelous. They studied Greek antiquities together. I quite forgot I promised to locate some of Philip's papers for him. As for Arthur, being Lord Palmer's younger son, he has few prospects. Worse, he doesn't seem particularly bright."

"He'd do well to marry a wealthy heiress."

"He'll have to look elsewhere, I'm afraid. I would never be able to think of him in that way. Besides, I shall never marry again."

"A wise decision, Kallista. Keep control of what is yours. Why does this Palmer's father need Philip's papers?"

"It concerns some work Philip was doing before he died. Lord Palmer would like to complete it and publish it as a memorial."

"Sounds like a fitting tribute," she said with a sigh. The carriage slowed as we approached our destination. "I fear this will be another tedious night."

Happily, her prediction proved to be incorrect; the evening was quite entertaining. Mr. Bennett's house was an exercise in excess, filled nearly to bursting with flamboyant works of art and eclectic objects he had collected on his travels around the world. I do not know that one could say it was a tastefully decorated home, but it did an excellent job of capturing its owner's character.

"Lady Ashton!" I heard a bright voice calling to me.

"Miss Seward, I am so pleased to see you." Miss Seward had caused no small measure of controversy when I first met her at Ivy's dinner party. Her modern ideas had clashed horribly with the more conservative ones of Sir John Harris, a friend of Ivy's parents. Sir John was particularly outraged when Miss Seward, an American who had recently graduated from Bryn Mawr, suggested that I ought to learn read ancient Greek.

"I meant to call on you but have not had a moment to spare. Who is your friend?"

"Madame Cécile du Lac, Miss Margaret Seward," I said, making the introduction. As always when she met a new acquaintance, Cécile quickly evaluated Miss Seward; this time she looked as if she approved.

"Enchantée, Margaret," Cécile said. "Kallista has told me about you. Your dress is most interesting. I shall speak to you about it later." She left without another word before Miss Seward could reply.

"Does she disapprove of my gown?" she asked, looking down at what I found to be an oddly attractive dress. Miss Seward had strayed from the constraints of fashion, appearing in a high-waisted Empire gown that clearly required no corset. It was much more flattering and elegant than the aesthetic dresses I had seen in Liberty's, which I always thought gave one the appearance of a rather burdened medieval matron yet must have given the wearer a similar ease of movement.

"Quite the contrary. I imagine she wants to order one, if not several, for herself."

"Clearly she has excellent taste," Miss Seward replied, smiling. "We must get some champagne. It's the only thing capable of making this party worthwhile." She beckoned to a footman, who quickly supplied us with full glasses. "How is your study of Homer coming along?"

"Quite well, Miss Seward. I have considered your suggestion to attempt to learn Greek so that I can read the original, and I intend to hire a tutor when I return to England."

"You will not regret it."

"In the meantime I would very much like to learn your thoughts on the various English translations. Are you free for tea tomorrow afternoon?" We arranged to meet, and Margaret was quickly swept up in a group of Americans. I excused myself and went in search of Ivy and Robert, whom I found talking to Andrew Palmer.

"We have met before," Mr. Palmer said as he kissed my hand. "At your wedding."

"Of course," I replied. "Thank you for the kind note you sent after Philip's death. I appreciated your condolences."

"He was an excellent man and an even better friend. I only regret that we couldn't do more for him in Africa."

"All of you on the hunt provided him with fine companionship and the adventure he loved in his final days. For that I am grateful." As I spoke, I realized that for the first time I was actually comfortable talking about Philip. "He told me numerous times how he enjoyed your company."

"Did he tell you much about our friendship?"

"I must confess that, given the brevity of our marriage, much of what I know about Philip comes from his letters to me. We had hardly been married a few months when he left for Africa."

"Yes, I remember that," he replied with a winning grin. "And now it is my turn to confess. I was quite surprised that he left such a lovely bride so soon after the wedding."

"Don't be a beast, Palmer," Robert interrupted.

"My apologies, Lady Ashton."

"There is no need, Mr. Palmer. I knew the safari had been planned before our wedding date was set. I had no intention of asking him to change his arrangements. Regardless, he was quite adamant that he go."

"Yes." He paused. "I wonder why that was?"

"I believe," Ivy interjected, "that there was something about an elephant, isn't that right, Emily? He'd always wanted to hunt an elephant."

"Yes, something like that, Ivy." I looked back at Mr. Palmer. "I admit to not remembering the particulars, but it did have something to do with elephants."

He laughed. "You are charming! I wonder that he left at all. Don't worry your pretty head with details, Lady Ashton. Suffice it to say that, as always, your husband fulfilled his commitment to his friends, proving himself to be the most admirable of all of us. None of the rest of the bunch could communicate particularly well with the guides. We would have been lost without him."

"He was very dependable," I said, hoping to sound authoritative.

"Do you like Paris?" Mr. Palmer asked.

"I adore it."

"Nothing like London, is it? Much more fun to be had here. Have you been to the theater?"

"No, it doesn't seem appropriate. I'm still in mourning."

"Yes, I noticed your hideous dress," he said, with such a pleasant smile that I could take no offense. "My brother and I are planning to attend a play Thursday night with a merry group of friends. You must join us."

"Don't insist on ruining the girl," Robert interjected with the slightest touch of humor.

"I don't think there's any reason she cannot attend a respectable performance," Ivy said. "It might be fun, Emily. You should go." Robert looked at his wife severely but said nothing.

"I shall consider your invitation, Mr. Palmer."

"I can ask for nothing more," he replied, giving me an exaggerated bow.

"Look, Emily, there is Colin Hargreaves. He looks fine tonight," Ivy confided to me in a low whisper. I had not had the opportunity to tell her of my recent exchange with Colin.

"I'd rather not speak to him," I whispered back. I spotted an acquaintance on the other side of the room and excused myself from the group, but not before Colin reached us.