To Kiss a Count. Amanda McCabe

pelisse and a cameo earring, a chestnut ringlet, was all Thalia could see. But then she laughed, that dreadful high-pitched giggle Thalia well remembered. It was Lady Riverton, without a doubt.

      Thalia’s first, fiery instinct was to dash forward, snatch that terrible hat off the woman’s head—along with a handful of hair!—and demand to know where the silver was. But even she, with all her Chase impulsiveness, knew that causing a scene in the Pump Room would avail her nothing. It would cause a scandal, and worse would tip her hand to Lady Riverton, making it all too easy for her to escape again.

      No, she had to bide her time. Plan her next move carefully. She wouldn’t fail again.

      She slid closer to Lady Riverton, who was chattering away as if she was in no way guilty of anything but crimes of fashion. ‘…must procure theatre tickets tout suite, my dear! There is no finer way to meet people in Bath, I am sure. The Upper Rooms can be such a squeeze, but only the very best people are in the theatre boxes.’

      Thalia nearly laughed aloud, wondering what Lady Riverton’s idea of the ‘best people’ could possibly be. And who was the poor man being forced to listen to such faradiddle? He was too tall to be Mr Frobisher, who as far as Thalia knew was still in the Santa Lucia gaol. As she watched, Lady Riverton took her escort’s arm and the pair of them turned to stroll away into the crowd.

      Thalia hurried in the direction of their path, nearly tripping over the front wheel of yet another Bath chair. By Jove, but those things were a menace! At last she came face to face with Lady Riverton, and saw that her escort was…

      Marco. The Count di Fabrizzi himself, in all his Roman-god handsome splendour.

      For an instant, all she could do was gape at him in utter astonishment. Surely it could not be! Perhaps he had a twin. An evil twin, who paraded around the spa towns of Europe with silly females, and stole their jewels when they were not looking. She had read about such men.

      But even as the absurd thought flitted through her mind, she knew that it really was Marco who stood there. No one else could have eyes like that.

      As he glimpsed her, those dark eyes widened in surprise, and a smile touched his lips. A mere flash of the dimple set deep in his smooth olive cheek. Then it was as if he suddenly remembered their true situation, and that smile vanished. The spark deep in his eyes went out, and he watched her warily.

      As if he did remember—remember that night she had broken into his house, and had no idea what unpredictable thing she might do now.

      Thalia smiled politely, sweetly, and said in her brightest voice, ‘Lady Riverton! Count di Fabrizzi. What a great surprise to see you here in Bath. It has been far too long since we last met.’

      Lady Riverton smiled and nodded, those feathers bobbing maniacally. Marco bowed, still wary and serious. As well he might be, for Thalia was determined to discover what his game was here.

      ‘Why, if it is not Miss Thalia Chase!’ Lady Riverton said gaily. ‘And looking just the same as when we parted in dear Santa Lucia. How is your lovely sister, the new Duchess?’

      ‘Clio and her husband are both well, thank you,’ Thalia said, giving the bizarre couple her sweetest smile. ‘They are still travelling on the Continent.’

      ‘I was so very sorry to miss their wedding, but I had to travel in haste to Naples to visit an ill friend,’ Lady Riverton said. ‘That is where I met Count di Fabrizzi again! He has been such an attentive escort.’ She simpered up at Marco, her gloved hand tight on his arm.

      Marco gave her an indulgent smile, his eyes soft as he gazed down at her. As if he could not watch her enough, get enough of her presence.

      Thalia remembered how just such a look from him could make her feel, back in Santa Lucia. How his teasing smiles made her feel all hot and chilled, weak and invincible, light and unbearably serious, all at the same time.

      She wished she still had a glass of the vile water, so she could throw it at him. First Clio, now Lady Riverton! The—the bounder.

      ‘How fortunate, Lady Riverton, that you possess the happy talent of making friends wherever you go,’ Thalia said.

      ‘Indeed I do! My dear husband, the late Viscount Riverton, said it was my greatest gift. Or one of them, anyway!’ Lady Riverton giggled, leaning on Marco’s arm even more. He seemed to have no objections, though Thalia noticed they were beginning to attract interested attention from the passers-by.

      ‘Speaking of friends, Miss Chase,’ Lady Riverton continued, ‘never say you are here on your own! Your sister’s great marriage must have caused such a lowering of spirits for you. I hope the waters will soon restore your bloom.’

      Thalia felt her ‘blooming’ cheeks grow warm. ‘On the contrary, Lady Riverton. We are all most happy that Clio has found someone who loves and values her as much as we do. And I am here with my eldest sister, Lady Westwood, who has recently had a child.’

      ‘Indeed?’ Lady Riverton said. ‘Well, I am glad you are here with someone to see to the proprieties. If I recall from Santa Lucia, you yourself are often too busy to worry about such things.’

      Proprieties like stealing? Destroying history? Thalia again felt that burning urge to throw something. At Lady Riverton, whose smugly smiling countenance said she knew Thalia could do nothing in such a public place. At Marco, who seemed to fawn over Lady Riverton like a simpleton, like a new Marco di Fabrizzi. He was obviously playing some game, and it was maddening that she could not decipher it!

      ‘Thalia? Will you introduce us to your friends?’ she heard Calliope say, and she turned gratefully to her sister. Calliope had always been the sensible one, the one that drew the rest of them down to earth when their wild Chase-ian schemes sent them flying off.

      But Calliope was staring at Marco with wide eyes, as if she could not account for his presence here. Yet how could she know him? She had not been in Sicily. She knew nothing of the silver fiasco there.

      Cameron came to her side, taking her hand. The two of them exchanged a long glance.

      If Thalia thought she was confused before, now she felt she had tumbled down into an abyss. An upside-down world where nothing made sense.

      ‘May I introduce Viscountess Riverton,’ Thalia said, automatically mouthing the polite words. ‘And the Count di Fabrizzi. This is my eldest sister and her husband, Lord and Lady Westwood.’

      There were bows and curtsies all around, perfectly polite and conventional. But Thalia still felt that strange tension in the air, that taut sensation, as if all the good manners would suddenly snap and send them into chaos.

      ‘We are always happy to meet friends of Thalia’s,’ Calliope said. ‘I hope we will see more of you around Bath.’

      ‘Oh, indeed!’ Lady Riverton trilled. ‘We are to attend the assembly on Tuesday, and I want to organize a card party soon at my villa. I will send you a card!’

      ‘We look forward to it,’ Calliope said.

      ‘But now I fear you must excuse us,’ Cameron added. ‘My wife has an appointment at the Hot Bath this afternoon.’

      ‘How delightful,’ Lady Riverton said. ‘Nothing like taking the waters! We shall see you very soon, I’m sure.’

      Not if I can help it, Thalia thought. Calliope took her arm in a firm clasp and led her past the still-simpering Lady Riverton, the inscrutable Marco.

      At Marco’s shoulder, Cal suddenly paused and hissed, ‘Don’t think I don’t remember you, Marco. I hope you left your crowbar at home this time, because I will not let you cause trouble for another of my sisters.’

      ‘Lady Westwood, I would not—’ Marco began. But Calliope had already marched onwards, drawing Cameron and Thalia with her.

      Even as the crowd closed behind them, Thalia could swear she felt Marco’s stare on the back of her neck, a warm tingle against her skin.

      She