"Good evening, Lady Ashton."

"Mr. Hargreaves." I could not bring myself to meet his eyes. "Please excuse me." I saw Mr. Palmer grin and raise his eyebrows as I walked away.

When dinner was announced, I, by some misfortune, found myself near Colin, who took my arm and guided me to the dining room.

"Please forgive me," he said in a low voice.

"I have nothing to say on the matter," I replied, trying to ignore the feeling of his arm on mine.

"May I call on you tomorrow?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Was I so awful?"

"I already have one father, Mr. Hargreaves. I would prefer not to have a surrogate looking over my shoulder and judging my every move."

"Be fair. I've done nothing of the sort. I only suggested-"

"Yes, suggested that you know better than whom I should consider an acquaintance."

"You completely misunderstand me."

"Can you explain yourself?"

"Suffice it to say that not everyone you meet here is what he seems to be."

"Should that mean something to me?" I let my eyes meet his.

"Perhaps you could just consider it the advice of a friend."

"I think I can take care of myself."

"I think you are overreacting." We reached the table, and I removed my hand from his arm without speaking, hoping I would not find that he was my dinner partner. I was pleased to see Mr. Palmer appear beside me.

"Hargreaves! Looks like you still don't know how to handle a lady. Has he been torturing you, Lady Ashton?"

"Yes, he has," I replied, enjoying my newfound compatriot's allegiance.

"I assure you my intentions are the best," Colin said. He bowed smartly and went to find his own place at the large table.

"Hargreaves is so handsome that he can get away with any sort of behavior," Mr. Palmer said. "Many have been fooled by his initial show of good manners."

"Fear not that I shall succumb to his wiles." I sat as the footman behind me pushed my chair toward the table. "How lucky that you are seated next to me."

"I've been a bit devious, Lady Ashton, and switched place cards. Will you forgive my blatant dishonesty? I hoped to have the opportunity to speak with you again in order to plead my case concerning young widows attending the theater."

We chatted effortlessly for the entire first part of dinner. Then, not wanting to be rude, I turned my attention to the elderly gentleman seated on my other side.

"I could not help but notice your ring, Monsieur Fournier," I said. "Is it Greek?"

"It is a Mycenaean seal, Lady Ashton," he replied, fingering its gold surface as he spoke. "Found in one of the shaft graves Schliemann excavated. I like to think it belonged to Agamemnon."

"I understand that you have a considerable collection of antiquities?"

"You are correct. Your late husband and I shared a passion for things ancient."

"Did you know him well?"

"No, not particularly, but we met with some frequency, usually when trying to outbid each other for a Greek vase."

"They are exquisite, aren't they?"

"Yes. Do you have a favorite?"

"I do," I replied, smiling broadly. "It's in the British Museum and shows the Judgment of Paris."

"I believe I know the one to which you refer. It's by a very famous painter."

"Yes. It astounds me that we are able to so well identify the works of artists who left no signatures."

"An artist's style is often as recognizable as his signature."

"I know you are correct, but I would never have thought such a thing could be said about Greek vases before I began to study them. To the untrained eye, the painting on them appears rather formulaic."

"Until you begin to notice the details."

"Precisely. And it is just those details that make the Judgment of Paris vase so spectacular. I almost wish Philip hadn't donated it."

"I understand he felt very strongly that the best pieces should be in museums, a sentiment with which I do not entirely agree."

"Why is that?"

"I spend much of my fortune funding archaeological digs. Museums cannot afford the patronage I give. I see nothing wrong with reaping the benefits of my investment." He pulled the ring from his finger and held it in front of me. "Which do you prefer? Looking at it or feeling it on your hand?"

"It is magnificent," I murmured, gently touching its decorated bezel. The scene depicted was one of a group of Greek soldiers pulling the Trojan horse. "But shouldn't scholars have access to pieces like this?"

"I'm happy to allow them to visit my private collection."

"I think that having them in museums ensures that we shall have another generation of scholars. People are inspired by seeing them. I know I am. How is one to develop a significant interest in an ancient civilization without viewing artifacts?"

"That's what books are for. And I do not say that museums should have nothing-just that I should have my pick of the lot. They'd have nothing without my kind, after all."

"Of course you should have something, but perhaps the most significant finds should belong to the museum."

"Your enthusiasm is invigorating, my child."

"Please do not think me impertinent."

"Not at all. Tell me, did Lord Ashton ever locate that bust of Apollo?"

"I'm not sure that I'm familiar with it."

"Fantastic thing, to judge from his description. Said it was attributed to Praxiteles, one of the finest masters of Greek sculpture. You know of Praxiteles?"

"It is impossible to have even a moderate interest in Greek art without becoming immediately familiar with him."

"It would be quite a coup to have anything by such a master in any collection. Lord Ashton was searching for that Apollo everywhere when I last saw him in Paris. Must have been well over a year ago now. Well, if he found it, you've got quite an excellent piece; and if you ever want to sell it, please let me know immediately."

Mr. Palmer leaned toward me. "Tell me you're not interested in those crusty old pots, too."

"I think they're lovely."

"You are too sweet," he murmured. "You simply must come to the theater with me."


6 MAY 1887

BERKELEY SQUARE, LONDON


Regret to say that today marked only the second visit to my desk in the Reading Room. Impossible to accomplish anything during the Season, even after adopting a firm policy of accepting only every fifth invitation. Did read the Duke of Buckinghamshire Sheffield's "Essay on Poetry," so all is not lost: "Read Homer once, and you can read no more; / For all books else appear so mean, so poor, / Verse will seem prose; but still persist to read, / And Homer will be all the books you need." Brilliant thought.

Saw Lady Emily Bromley on Rotten Row this morning. She is a fine horsewoman-anyone who rides so well must enjoy the hunt.

8

"You're more fond of him than i would have expected!" Ivy exclaimed.

"He's loads of fun, Ivy. It's refreshing," I said, refilling our teacups.

"I admit that I liked his idea of going to the theater, but he was terribly blunt about Philip, didn't you think?"

"He meant no harm. He's the first person I've met in years who simply wants to see me enjoy myself. Imagine that!"

"We all want that, Emily. You know that I agree with you completely when it comes to society and its rules, but I'm afraid that Mr. Palmer flouts them rather too much."

"He's high-spirited and says what he thinks. I see nothing wrong with that."

"You don't extend the same courtesy to Mr. Hargreaves when he speaks his mind."

"That is unfair, Ivy. The situations are completely different. Mr. Palmer is trying to expand my horizons, not constrict them."

"Robert says he's a decent man."

"He is amusing and doesn't expect me to play the part of grieving widow."

"I can understand that he has a certain appeal."

"How generous you are," I said, smiling. "He's taking me for a drive in the Bois de Boulogne this afternoon."

"Perhaps I should join you as a chaperone," Ivy teased.

"Widows don't need chaperones, my dear. What a pity it's Meg's afternoon off. She'd be pleased to see me with the son of an English peer.

"She's frightfully biased against the French." A sharp knock on the door announced Margaret Seward's arrival; she entered, her arms filled with books.

"I'm sorry I'm so late," she said, depositing the books on a table. "You will forgive me when you see what I've brought."

"It's lovely to see you, Miss Seward," Ivy said.

"You must call me Margaret, as I have no intention of calling you Mrs. Brandon."

"I'd be delighted," Ivy said, and joined me at the table to examine the newly arrived books.

"Greek grammar, history, and philosophy," Margaret announced, holding up individual volumes. "My own notes on lectures I've attended and, should your interests take you even further, an introductory Latin grammar. Greek is magnificent, of course, but you should not overlook Latin."

"This is wonderful, Margaret. Thank you," I said.

"I'm sure you have much of this in your library at home, but I have a terrible habit of making notes in my books and thought you might appreciate the marginalia."

"This makes me wish I hadn't agreed to go out with Mr. Palmer. I'd much rather stay here and read."

"Then stay," Margaret said, slouching into a comfortable chair. "I'd be happy to tell him you're unavailable."