Chapter One

Selina

W hat a nincompoop! Miss Selina Templeton scrutinized the guest sitting next to her at the dinner table. The candlelight highlighted Mr. George Fitzgerald's already dazzlingly fair hair, and his green eyes glittered with amusement as he spun his tale—featuring himself as the hero.

"And I placed a bet then, for I had a good hand of cards, you see, and felt confident I would be successful. False modesty has no place here—I am an expert at the gaming tables. Have I mentioned this before?"

Cards! Bets! And gambling. Was this all he was interested in? And how boastful the man was.

Selina had harbored such high hopes for this dinner. She had been thrilled when her brother Henry, recently married to her best friend Kitty, had invited Selina to dine with them. Imagine—she was to be a guest at Henry and Kitty's first dinner as a married couple. Only twelve people had been invited. That in itself was exciting enough—and a great honor—but when Henry had revealed that George Fitzgerald had also accepted an invitation to dinner, Selina thought her happiness was complete.

Henry's friend George had occupied Selina's thoughts right through the recent Christmas period, and she'd been quite wild for more chances to see him, hoping to converse at length and discover more about his character... and admire his handsome countenance.

Selina flipped off her tight embroidered slippers under the table and rubbed her toes together in their silk stockings before stretching them out as wide as she could. Ah! That felt better. Lord! She wished she never had to wear shoes again.

"Are you all right, Selina?" her brother Henry said from the end of the table.

"Fine!" Selina said cheerfully. "Thank you for asking. I assure you I am in the best of health."

Apart from the ache in my heart—for I had stupidly thought George would be the one for me. However, now I find he is a pompous fool who can talk of nothing but cards—and himself.

How quickly love could turn to hate. Or perhaps that was putting it a little too strongly. How quickly attraction—a strong, intensely powerful physical attraction—could turn to boredom when one spent long enough with the object of one's heart's desire. And in this case, sitting next to George for an hour or so at dinner was quite long enough.

No longer would George be her Greek god, her Adonis, the man to fulfil her dreams. Why, Selina had even foolishly imagined that she might one day walk up the aisle with him. Not that she entirely believed in marriage.

For why would I allow a man to rule over me?

And yet before Christmas, George had made her feel as if he might be that man. The one who could break through her hard shell and find a softer, more gentle character underneath, a person who wanted what everyone else in the whole world wanted—someone to love, someone to care for. And to be loved and cared for in return.

No, George had revealed himself to be a dullard with precious little conversation beyond blabbing about his prowess at cards. To say he was disappointing was understating it. His character was nothing like his appearance.

Selina stifled a yawn.

"Is it time?" Henry smiled at his wife Kitty, and she nodded.

"Yes, my dear," she said. "If the ladies would like to follow me upstairs, we will go to the withdrawing room. You men will doubtless have much to discuss."

Heavens! That look between Henry and Kitty—the warmth, the mutual affection. If only...

Selina jumped to her feet, then dove under the table upon realizing she needed to retrieve her slippers.

"Selina," Henry said with a laugh, "you have not changed since you were a small girl. I remember Mama reprimanding you many a time for your habit of removing your shoes during meals."

Selina grinned at her brother. "I have never found ladies' shoes comfortable. However, I am sure all you lucky gentlemen at the table are wearing more agreeable footwear."

Henry put his head in his hands and groaned unconvincingly. "No! Please do not start on one of your speeches."

"Whatever do you mean?" Selina asked in mock astonishment.

"He means," Kitty said, "when you start going on about everything being unfair and how much better it would be if ladies could wear breeches instead of skirts. And more substantial clothes for evening dress too, not low-cut necklines that leave us at the mercy of draughts."

"Ah, yes," Selina said. "I have oft thought we should wear jackets at dinner, like the gentlemen, rather than gowns festooned with frills and furbelows. And cravats—for would they not keep our necks warm?"

There was much merriment round the table at this exchange, and a general conversation broke out. Most of the ladies exclaimed that they thoroughly agreed with Selina and found it annoying that their formal wear was ill-equipped to cope with the cold and damp January weather in England.

"Well, we men are delighted you ladies are all wearing low-cut dresses this evening," said one of the bolder gentlemen at the table, "otherwise where else would our eyes—"

"I think 'tis time for the ladies to withdraw," Henry said, cutting into the conversation not a moment too soon.

"Quite right, my dear," Kitty said with a fleeting frown as she got to her feet. "Come, ladies. Let us go upstairs."

Selina followed at the end of the procession, her shoes now firmly on her feet. Turning round at the door, she inadvertently caught George's eye. Why was he looking at her? And in such an odd manner. Perchance he disapproved of her speaking her mind? He seemed depressingly conventional and predictable.

Selina could smell the heavy, sickly port that was already being poured for the gentlemen. How absurd it was that at a certain point in every dinner the ladies were banished upstairs so that the men could begin drinking in earnest and exchanging all sorts of stories not suitable for women's ears. When Selina was married—if she ever decided to marry—she would make new rules. The gentlemen would be forced to drink tepid tea upstairs while the ladies were left in the dining room in possession of the drinks cabinet. The fairer sex would sample all types of strong alcohol and generally let their hair down. Figuratively speaking. Although it would actually be quite amusing if they literally let their hair down—pulled out all the hairpins and ribbons, tossed their locks around their shoulders and generally made themselves totally comfortable and dishevelled. Perhaps corsets could be loosened—and shoes would, of course, be optional.

Once upstairs, two of the ladies started playing a pianoforte duet, and tea was bought in on a silver tray by a servant. Selina sat down on one of the sofas, and Kitty joined her.

"We are so pleased you could come this evening," Kitty said, clasping Selina's hand. "Has the evening been everything you had hoped for?"

What could Selina say? Henry and Kitty had been kind enough to ask her to dinner, knowing how much she wanted to see George. How could she say to Kitty, her best friend in all the world, that the evening had been a disappointment? And that her dreams of romance with Mr. George Fitzgerald—of a future even—now lay in ruins.

"You did not seem..." Kitty hesitated. "You did not seem entirely enthralled with George this evening. Are you well? Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Selina said. "You and Henry have been so kind and thoughtful to invite me. I am thrilled to be a guest at your first dinner as a married couple—and overjoyed that you have married my brother."

The two friends embraced warmly.

"Of course, Kitty dearest," Selina said with a smile, "you are far too good for Henry. All the same, I believe the two of you are a perfect match and will have much happiness in your life together."

Kitty's cheeks went pink. "Henry makes me very happy. I cannot describe what it is like to be married except to say that it is like being in heaven every single day. And every..." Kitty stopped abruptly.

Interesting! Had Kitty been about to say every night ? Every night was heaven with Selina's brother?

At some point, might Selina and Kitty have a conversation about this? They had spent much time together through their childhood years, indeed had more or less grown up together. What happens when you get married had been an endless topic of conversation between them, causing much speculation and mirth. When they had both been thirteen, they had made a solemn pledge to each other that whichever of them married first would give the other a full account of all that went on in the privacy of the marriage bed.

Of course, this conversation could not possibly take place now they were grown up. And even if it could, the withdrawing room, with so many other ladies and servants present, was hardly the right venue. In reality, the two friends would probably never speak of the subject again, for now Kitty was married, it was as if she had crossed over to a secret place that Selina had no entry to.

"We will still be the best of friends, you know," Kitty said.

Selina smiled. She might have predicted Kitty would know what she was thinking.

"I know," Selina said. "You will always be my best friend. And you are my sister now too, and that brings me more happiness than I can ever express."

"What about you and George?" Kitty said. "Henry and I had high hopes that a romance might blossom between you. Before Christmas, there seemed to be a mutual attraction."

"I would be lying if I did not say I'd cherished those hopes myself," Selina said. "And yes, it seemed there was attraction on both sides—but until this evening I didn't know the real George."

"What do you mean?" Kitty said. "Have you not known him for some time as Henry's friend? They were at university together, were they not?"

"Yes, they were," Selina said, "and I have seen him at social events over the years too, but I had not really noticed him until, until..."

"Until he saved the day in the Octagon," Kitty said. "I will never forget that. How George managed to unmask the vile Lord Steyne as a card shark."

"Yes, George was magnificent on that occasion," Selina said. "He talked eloquently and played the cards so skilfully, managing to reel in his victim and expose him for the villainous creature he is."

"George will always have my most sincere gratitude," Kitty said, "for from that day on, the ton turned their back on Lord Steyne."

"And good riddance, I say, for when I think of what Lord Steyne did, leaving Henry for dead at Waterloo and trying to ruin your family's happiness, why, it fair makes my blood boil in my veins."

"It's over," Kitty said. "Lord Steyne has left Bath and we are all safe. There is no need for any more boiling blood."

Selina sighed. "I have seen George on other admittedly rather short occasions since that time in the Octagon. Our paths crossed at various social events in the city, and he was always most charming. We even danced at a ball in the Upper Rooms, which was heaven—and chatted a little at your wedding, too. But where is that friendly, lively George this evening? Where is the witty, articulate man we saw in action in the Octagon in December? He barely talked at all this evening for the first two courses of the meal—not even to comment on the delicious food your cook had prepared. And when he did finally speak, it was to show off and boast about how good he is at cards."

"I did not notice he was quiet," Kitty said, "or then boastful."

"Doubtless you were too busy being the perfect hostess. You did brilliantly with all your guests, making them feel welcome and keeping the conversation going. No one would have guessed this was the very first dinner party you had hosted."

"Thank you," Kitty said. "I must admit to feeling a little apprehensive before the occasion. However, with Henry at the end of the table and the full support of all my friends, I think I managed tolerably well. And hopefully the evening has been a success, so far at least. Except for you, dear Selina. I am sorry to hear George was not very forthcoming—and then hogged the conversation with a speech about himself. Perhaps he is not well? We deliberately sat him next to you for the meal, hoping you would both enjoy the opportunity to get to know one another better."

"I think I have been a little foolish," Selina said. "George is a very handsome young man, and perhaps I allowed my feelings to run away with me. I know now that what I felt for him in the past was a mere physical attraction, whereas I am looking for a true soulmate. Someone I can love and cherish, someone I have much in common with, someone I will be able to talk to freely, right into my dotage, a best friend and partner in life..."

Selina could scarcely believe it, but tears were forming in her eyes.

"You have been more affected by this than I thought," Kitty said. "This was not a mere infatuation. I believe you are in love with George."

"I am not!" Selina whispered. "I could never love a man who sits silent as the grave, glowering at the dinner table and looking as if he disapproves of everything, and then drones on about his card games."

Could I?

"Selina, dearest," Kitty said. "Please, take my handkerchief."

"Thank you." Selina gave a small sob.

"And you're not to worry about George," Kitty said. "If he is not the right man for you, it matters not how silent or boastful he is. There are plenty of others for you to meet and fall in love with. Henry knows many fine young men who are looking for romance and a marriage partner."

"I will be fine," Selina said, as her natural good humor and sunny disposition took over again. "'Twas a fleeting disappointment, that is all. I was infatuated with a person who did not really exist—a dream I had allowed to build up in my mind—and all because I was impressed with how George spoke in the Octagon before Christmas and how he stood up to Lord Steyne and defeated him."

George truly was magnificent that day. He looked so very handsome, too, silhouetted against the yellow walls of the Octagon, the candlelight illuminating his fine figure...

Kitty smiled. "I will make it my business this season to make sure you find a suitable husband. I want you to enjoy the happiness that I enjoy with my dear Henry."

Just then, the door to the withdrawing room opened and the men trooped in, some with rather flushed cheeks. The port had obviously been flowing freely.

And there George was, standing tall in the crowd, his manly bearing and noble profile outshining all the others, his blond locks crying out to be stroked, chiselled lips begging to be kissed...

Not that Selina was looking out for him. Why would she? He meant nothing to her.

If only that were true.

*

George

George's eyes raked the room until he found her. Selina! How exquisite she looked sitting next to Kitty, her complexion radiant, eyes shining. She was perfection! Everything he had always wanted in a woman—beautiful, lively, individual, and not afraid to speak her mind.

When Selina had tossed off her shoes under the table without a care, George had noticed immediately and had admired her for her spirited behavior. How refreshing that she did not let the conventions of society constrain her. At that point, if George could have done exactly what he wanted, he would have dived under the mahogany table and kissed her shoes, before moving on to her stockinged feet...

George had been in love with Selina for more years than he could remember. He had seen her at many events in Bath but had always been too shy to talk to her. Due to her wonderfully extroverted nature, she attracted people like bees to a honeypot and was always surrounded by an admiring, vibrant crowd. Many were the times George had stood on the margins of a group at a ball in the refreshment room, longing to be able to claim Selina as a friend—maybe more. But she had never noticed him.

Why is it that I find women so difficult to talk to?

And this situation did not change until that fateful day in the Octagon before Christmas. At first, George had not been aware that Selina had been in the room when he was busy exposing Lord Steyne as a card cheat. This was definitely a good thing, for if George had been aware of Selina's presence, it might have put him off his stride—he surely would not have been able to succeed in his aim, namely, to draw Lord Steyne into the card game, then reveal that the man had three cards hidden in a pocket. Lord Steyne had cheated from the very beginning, and now here was the incontrovertible proof. The man was nothing but a dishonorable wretch, a stain upon society, and a disgrace to the ton .

George smiled ruefully at the memory. He had put his shyness aside on that occasion, so concerned was he to achieve justice for his friend Henry, and for Kitty and her family. Surprising even himself by holding forth so eloquently, he had outlined exactly how Lord Steyne had cheated not only in this card game but doubtless in many others before. George felt it was his duty to speak out—an important service to the community in Bath and beyond, a service he could perform for all the people Lord Steyne had cheated and ruined. 'Twas a fitting punishment for all the evil he had done.

Then, once his speech was over, George had noticed Selina staring at him with admiration etched into her face—or so it had seemed at the time. This had seemed to be the beginning of something wonderful, a beautiful true romance and a welcome answer to George's prayers—which up 'til then God had neglected to answer.

As luck would have it, George had bumped into Selina a few times at social occasions after this and had also managed to exchange quite a few sentences with her at Henry and Kitty's wedding on Christmas Day. Since then, he had been racking his brains to work out how he could take things further but felt too unsure to ask his friends for advice.

George was all at sea in the world of romance, for having given his heart to Selina when he was but a very young man, he had never felt the need to pursue other women. He had not wanted to practice his seduction techniques on the young ladies of Bath, nor avail himself of the opportunities for purely physical encounters, as so many of his friends thought was the correct path.

I have always wanted to woo Selina—but do not know how to court a young woman. How easy and natural it seems for others.

Just then, George was conscious of Selina's eyes upon him as he stood near the door of the withdrawing room. Kitty seemed to be whispering something in Selina's ear, and now she was vacating the seat next to Selina on the sofa. Perhaps George could take her place?

I need to find some courage.

George had done his best at dinner to engage with Selina but at first knew not what to talk about. Thus it was that after a few pleasantries he had reverted to his usual taciturn self, the shy persona he generally adopted in the presence of the fairer sex. After a while, George remembered how Selina had seemed to admire him during the incident in the Octagon before Christmas—this made him decide to risk talking about cards and gambling. He probably went on about it at too great a length—had he even remembered to allow a pause in the conversation in case there was anything Selina herself wished to say?

Sadly, George now recollected he had left out the part of his narrative that explained his utter fascination with the patterns and logic of the cards—how for him it wasn't the gambling that mattered, it was the mathematics of it all. George seldom played for blunt, and when he did, it was for mere pennies. Curses! He might unintentionally have given Selina the impression he lived for gambling—that he was, in fact, an addict. He might also have come across as rather swollen headed.

George decided to be bold and made for the sofa.

"Would you mind if I sat next to you?" he asked Selina.

"Of course not," she said. "Pray sit down, Mr. Fitzgerald."

Zounds! This was rather formal—and did not bode well.

"I see you have your shoes on again," George attempted.

Selina's brow darkened. 'Twas probably a mistake to make such a personal comment, yet what was a man supposed to say? How could George find the words to achieve that light chitter chatter and froth so beloved by society?

"I, I did not mean to offend you," George said. "I only meant..."

"What did you mean?" Selina said.

"I only meant how much I admired your spirit, the freedom to take your shoes off—to put aside the normal inhibitions people feel. You are your own person. I admire that. More people should have your courage."

This was better. Selina's luscious lips were curving and her eyes sparkling again. Perhaps she liked being admired? What might George comment on next? His eyes fell to her delicious curves...

No! There are certain things a gentleman may think—but not articulate.

"Your hair . . ." George mumbled.

"What is wrong with my hair?"

"Why, nothing," George said. "I like the way it is swept up... er, pinned? And with the ribbon threaded through. I am wondering how that is achieved. How does it stay like that? Ahem! What I mean to say is—your hair is very neat. A nice color. And pretty."

"Thank you," Selina said.

Was it strictly necessary for her to curl her lip in that odd manner? George already knew he had expressed his admiration in a shockingly ill-judged and bizarre fashion.

Should George attempt to talk about cards again and gambling? Perhaps not, for 'twas fair to say Selina had not seemed enthralled when he'd attempted this topic of conversation at dinner earlier. No, the subject was best avoided.

"What do you like to do?" Selina asked. "I mean, apart from playing cards."

"What do I like doing?"

"Yes!"

George paused. Would discussing his medical work be considered unsuitable in the drawing room? He shook his head. 'Twould be better to discuss a different interest.

"I like helping out with the horses at my father's stables and riding my horse, Trigger. I'm very fond of him; he's like a friend to me."

Silence. Then,

"Have you traveled much, Mr. Fitzgerald? I have always longed to spread my wings. How I would love to go to the Continent—for I have an intense desire to see the ruins of Pompeii. Mr. Fitzgerald? You have heard of these Roman ruins?"

By Jove, she was beautiful! The fire in her eyes when she was animated...

I can see her now standing amongst the columns of a ruined temple in Southern Italy, the soft, golden evening sun creating a halo round her head and rendering her muslin dress opaque...

George swallowed hard. Pull yourself together, man!

"I have not yet had the good fortune to visit the Continent," he said, "though I do like to travel, especially by horseback. I love the feeling of the wind on my back, the freedom of being out with Trigger."

Why was George babbling like an imbecile about his horse? Selina would think he was a complete dunderhead.

George had always been happy to be the only child of his parents; however, at this point he would have given anything to have had sisters, the more the merrier. In fact, he felt he would be quite content to have been brought up with five or possibly six sisters—for then he might have felt more at ease in the company of the fairer sex. And know what they expected from a man in the way of conversation.

Damnation! This evening was not going according to plan. Selina did not look impressed. And during dinner, she had stifled a yawn. But who could criticize her for that, trapped as she had been, sitting next to the most tedious man in Bath?

"George!" Henry slapped him on the back. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to. Glad to see you're getting on so well with my sister. What have you two been talking about?"

"Mr. Fitzgerald has been telling me about Trigger," Selina said.

"Has he indeed!" Henry raised an eyebrow. "Well, Trigger is a fine horse. If you remember, Selina, Trigger was the horse I borrowed from George when I went to rescue Kitty from Lord Steyne's clutches."

Selina's eyes blazed. "I remember! How could anyone forget that time?" She turned to George. "We will always be grateful that you allowed Henry to take Trigger at a time of great crisis. Kitty is my dearest friend in all the world, and her life was in peril. Trigger is a noble horse, and I am not surprised you love the creature so dearly."

She understands my affection for my horse—promising.

"I saw many brave and noble horses at Waterloo last summer," Henry said. "And much suffering."

"There is no need to speak of that now, brother dearest," Selina interrupted. "All is over; all is well. Come, 'tis time for some music. Look! I do believe people are expecting you to play a duet with Kitty."

Henry walked over to the pianoforte and sat down beside his wife. The Mozart duet unfolded like a busily decorated fan, full of charm and detail. And like the fan, the music was able to convey subtle meaning and significance when interpreted correctly. Such honeyed sounds... ah, Henry had what George most wanted in the world—an easy intimacy, friendship, and love with a woman he adored. Two souls journeying through life together in perfect harmony.

Next, Kitty played some Bach, and George was transported by the rise and fall of the melodies, the precise cadences, and the busy textures.

Music to him was like cards—an intricate mathematical puzzle—everything in its place, both complex and highly organized. George closed his eyes to more clearly see the intricate web weaving in and out, building, transforming, and adding up to the harmonious sound of musical bliss.

When he opened his eyes again at the end of the piece, George found that Selina had disappeared. He could not blame her, for there was no evidence that she enjoyed his company. Why would she? His conversation was dull and his personality so hidden beneath shyness that most women would take the chance to escape as soon as they could. She must have been delighted when he had lowered his lids for a few minutes.

Selina was on the other side of the room now, giggling, surrounded by a group of her friends. What were they talking about? Not George, for sure—he could have made no impression upon her this evening. The interest Selina had shown in him on other occasions had vaporized. Or had it perchance always been a figment of his imagination?

George wanted to reach out to the other side of the room, to pull Selina into his arms and whisper his private thoughts to her. Distressingly, there was an invisible barrier preventing him, a sheet of unbreakable glass. Would he always be on the outside looking in?

How utterly devastating! George had been looking forward to this dinner from the moment Henry had issued the invitation. When he had heard that Selina would also be present, he was overjoyed.

George had spent a considerable time getting ready before he came this evening—not something he usually did. His manservant had been somewhat surprised that George had first wanted to have his cravat tied in a particular way and was then anxious that a speck of dust was brushed off the shoulder of his jacket.

As he left his home in Devonshire Buildings, George had looked much smarter than usual. He traveled across the city on horseback—which, in hindsight, might have been a mistake. George looked down at his breeches. 'Twas a shame the weather had been inclement, for there appeared to be a few mud stains. Did ladies mind this sort of thing? George knew very few ladies. And he didn't really know Selina at all.

That was the trouble when one fell in love. Love is blind. One could worship them and want to be with them forever, all before one knew what their tastes were. However, everything George had observed about Selina had led him to believe that she was not some shallow young woman, concerned about a bit of mud. She was easy going, a free spirit.

Wasn't she?

Selina was the sort of person George would like to be—if only he had the courage.

Ye gods! Selina was singing now, accompanied by Kitty. She was utterly entrancing as she enunciated the words of a Handel air, her bosom rising and falling with her breath.

"Let the bright seraphim . . ."

She was wearing a diaphanous white dress and, if George was not very much mistaken, had removed her shoes again. He looked carefully at the hem of her dress. Yes, her adorable stockinged feet could be glimpsed. Ah! Her exquisite ankles...

George was not even fit to touch her feet or the hem of her dress. She was perfection, she was unobtainable—she was a goddess.

She is everything I want in a woman—and regrettably I seem to be the exact opposite of what she admires.

*

Selina

Enthusiastic applause greeted the end of Selina's performance. She was a talented singer, and her musicianship was much respected at private musical gatherings.

"Encore, encore!" Henry said.

"Doesn't she have a lovely voice?" one of the guests remarked.

"Indeed. Such talent," another said. "I'm particularly fond of that Handel air—and I've never heard it performed better."

"I must find out who her music teacher is," one lady said. "Perhaps he would be interested in teaching my daughter?"

"I can tell you who he is," Kitty said. "Signor Allegretto. I have had some lessons with him as well. Perchance you have heard of him?"

"Signor Allegretto!" another lady said. "His name is known throughout Bath—and he is as famous for his looks as for his musicality."

"What's all this," Selina said as she came to join Kitty and a group of ladies. "Did I hear Signor Allegretto's name?"

"Yes," Kitty said. "We would recommend him as a teacher, wouldn't we?"

"Oh yes. He has taught me for years now and has always been very patient and kind." Selina put a finger to her lips. "Especially on one particular occasion."

"And I can guess when that was," Kitty said. "I well remember how much I laughed to hear your account."

The group of ladies were excessively keen to hear all about the incident, and so Selina described the day she went to her music lesson in disguise, purely to see how Signor Allegretto would react.

"Of course, I was only around eleven years old," Selina explained. "Is that an excuse for thoughtless behavior? Well, let's just say it seemed so at the time. Anyway, Signor Allegretto was seated at the pianoforte in the withdrawing room of our home at Number 1, waiting for me to come for my lesson accompanied by my mama. I thought it would be funny to go to my lesson early, without waiting for Mama—and I had dressed as an urchin. We had a wonderful dressing up box in our nursery—we still do as a matter of fact, if any of you ladies fancy dressing up any time."

Many heads nodded at this point. The Templetons' dressing up box was famous amongst the families of Bath and had been a source of amusement for years, and not only for children—but that is another story.

"I came into the room wearing a torn pair of breeches, a stained, ragged shirt, and with my hair under a cap," Selina said. "I dared not risk addressing Signor Allegretto because I knew he would recognize my voice, so I made a growling noise, intending to surprise him."

"That was your biggest mistake," Kitty said. "The growling noise—and also coming up behind him when he didn't even realize you were in the room and putting your hand on his arm."

"Possibly." Selina grinned. "But how was I to know that he'd recently had his pocket picked by a young urchin in Stall Street?"

"You weren't to know—it must have given him a fright, though," Kitty said. "The whole upsetting incident must have leapt into his mind again in a most unwelcome fashion."

"How did he react?" one of the ladies asked.

"Yes. Do go on," another said. "Musicians can be rather temperamental—or so I have heard."

"Signor Allegretto is not a temperamental man," Selina said, "although he is very sensitive."

"I expect he was a little startled," the first lady said.

"Actually, he nearly jumped out of his skin," Selina admitted.

Kitty giggled. "I've heard this tale so many times and still find it funny."

"And once he'd got over being startled," Selina said, "he became rather cross with me, then spent ages apologizing because he said it wasn't my fault and he knew I had meant no harm. Then he calmed down and said it was all rather amusing, now he came to think of it."

"'Twas all right in the end," the second lady said.

"Not quite," Selina said, "because once he saw the funny side, he began laughing very loudly, almost hysterically. Then Mama came into the room, saying she had no idea where I was and gave Signor Allegretto a lecture about unseemly behavior. Apparently laughing like a drain is no way to behave in polite society."

"Didn't your mama tell you off for being dressed as an urchin?" one of the ladies asked.

"No! She didn't even realize I was there because I had immediately hidden behind a curtain. Signor Allegretto was such a good sport, he didn't give the game away, but merely apologized for being too loud. He said he'd been thinking of something excessively funny and got carried away—which was completely true."

The ladies all started talking at once then.

"This is quite a story!"

"And then?"

"Yes! Don't stop now."

"We have to know the next installment."

Selina beamed. There was nothing she enjoyed more than an appreciative audience, whether it was to hear her sing or to listen to one of her tales. And she freely admitted, to herself at least, that these tales grew taller with every rendition. For what was the point of life if one couldn't have a laugh now and then? And spin a story to make fun of the world.

"Once Mama had left the room," Selina continued, "I came out from behind the curtain and apologized again to Signor Allegretto. Then I ran off, managing to avoid seeing anyone on the stairs, changed into my normal clothes, found Mama and returned to my singing lesson. I behaved with the utmost decorum throughout the session—so much so that I began to worry that Mama might become suspicious and guess I had been up to no good."

Again, the ladies all spoke at once.

"Stop, I beg you!"

"Too, too funny."

"Selina! I am having to wipe tears from my eyes."

"Did your mama ever find out?"

"Yes, did you confess in the end?"

"The men are all looking at us and wondering what on earth we are talking about..."

"And ever since then," Selina said, raising her voice above the hubbub, "ever since then I have been very grateful to Signor Allegretto and very fond of him too. He's a decent sort of man, and a wonderful teacher and musician."

Everyone in the crowd agreed that Signor Allegretto did sound a most uncommon sort of fellow.

The ladies drifted away at that point, and a few other guests started playing cards in one corner of the room. After a few minutes, Selina was alone with Kitty in front of the fire.

"I am sorry that George did not seem the right match for you," Kitty said. "I hope you will not think too harshly of Henry and me; we were not trying to push you together. Or perhaps we were, a little—but you genuinely seemed so fond of each other. Are you sure there is no hope?"

Selina was silent. What could she say that she had not already said earlier? Sometimes it was better to close a chapter and move on with one's life. She had thought George was going to be hers—but then discovered aspects of his character that meant they were incompatible. They would never have been a good match, for physical attraction was not enough. Even when it was exceptionally strong.

Oh, why is it that my body is so out of step with my mind? For in the dark of every night I long for George to put his arms round me, to kiss me, to be one with me...

"Look around the room," Kitty said. "There are myriad other young men here, many of them most handsome and with lively personalities to match your own."

Selina flashed her a warning look.

"I understand," Kitty said, "and I will no longer interfere. 'Tis your concern, not mine, although I do hope you will find happiness with someone special ere long. I hate to see you in a state of melancholy."

"You know me," Selina said. "I'm never downcast for more than a short time, and of course I do not think of you and Henry harshly. I am thrilled and grateful to have been asked to this splendid party—but I do reserve the right to choose my own partner."

Lord! If only that partner had been able to be George, for when I look at him now, my heart spins round in a tizzy. My treacherous body betrays a weakness for his appearance, while at the same time my brain tells me that we have nothing in common.

"Excuse me a minute," Kitty said, "for I must wander amongst my guests. Mama always told me it was the duty of a good hostess to circulate as much as possible and make sure everyone is comfortable."

Selina smiled. "Your first dinner party has been a triumph. I only hope you will not be too tired tomorrow—you have spared no effort in making this a perfect occasion."

"Not quite perfect," Kitty whispered, "for I have not yet found you a husband."

"Go and see your other guests!"

Selina looked into the depths of the crackling fire. How comforting it was to feel the warmth. She looked around the withdrawing room—the room and indeed the whole house was strikingly similar to her own home with her parents and brother Edmund next door at Number 1 Royal Crescent. There were differences too, though, for Henry and Kitty had already stamped their own personalities on their new home in the short time they had been married—barely a month.

It had been very generous of Lord and Lady Templeton to buy Number 2 for the young couple, and Selina in particular was delighted because it meant she still lived close to her dear brother Henry—and to Kitty, her best friend from childhood. Perchance Selina's parents planned to populate more of the Royal Crescent with the Templeton family. When her brother Edmund chose a bride, would their papa buy another house in the Crescent, to keep Edward and his new wife close by? Not that Edmund had shown any signs of wanting to settle down.

Selina tried to crush the thoughts that were growing inside her. Would her papa buy a house for her when she got married? A house for her to live in with her husband and hopefully children? She imagined herself living in one of Bath's splendid terraced houses—Number 3 Royal Crescent, for instance, which Selina had recently heard was for sale. Would the view from her withdrawing room once married be onto the Crescent Lawn but from Number 3, not Number 1, as it had been so far all her life? Selina imagined herself talking to the housekeeper and cook, planning meals, organizing the household... soon she was running from room to room, wondering how long it would take to fill the nursery with a brood of children.

Then she imagined herself in the bed of her marital home, turning to her soulmate.

"I love you," he whispered.

Strong arms around her, soft lips brushing hers and a hard muscular body pressing against her... and the face—whose was it? Who would her husband be? Selina closed her eyes. Her treacherous body took over and supplied the details. The face of her soulmate was framed with bright blonde hair and had green glittering eyes. In her vision, George did not talk of logic, cards, or horses, but murmured soft endearments and nibbled her neck, telling her how ardently he loved her and wished to join with her...

"Miss Templeton?" Selina opened her eyes and spun round. George stood close by, his hands clasped behind his back. "A fine fire, is it not?"

"Are you particularly fond of fires?" Selina said, willing her heart to stop beating as fast as her favorite Scottish reel.

"As a matter fact, I am," George said. "Some of my happiest childhood memories are of when my father took me out riding; very often, we would then sit on the ground and light a fire."

"And no doubt you conversed about all sorts of things sitting round your campfire," Selina said.

George paused. "Mostly we did not talk at all, but stared into the depths. I do not always feel the need to chat. And I love being outside with nature, by an open fire. There is much to see within the flames—and much to ponder."

A long silence followed.

"Is that what we are doing now," Selina asked, "with both of us regarding the flames—are we pondering the deep meaning of life?"

George lifted his eyes, and Selina was transfixed by their unusually clear green depths. 'Twas like beholding a cold and heartless winter sea. She could drown in those eyes—and no one would be able to save her.

"Miss Templeton," George said, "I am not used to talking much with the fairer sex, however, this evening I wish to say..."

"Lord, Mr. Fitzgerald," Selina said, "I believe you have nothing to say to me. If you had, you would already have said it, for we sat together at dinner for a long time. I know you're a man of few words; indeed, you've just told me your favorite activity is sitting by a fire while totally silent."

Selina stopped suddenly when she saw an unusual expression flit across George's face. What was it? Anguish? Selina was a little ashamed. She hardly knew the man and should not be talking to him in such a flippant manner. It was all very well to tease and torment her brother Henry with nonsense—why, she and Henry had sparred all their lives—but George was a guest in Henry's house, and he did not seem to appreciate her levity. Nor did he deserve her facetious comments. Perhaps he thought she was trying to belittle him in some way? In truth, Selina did not know why she was carrying on like this—or why George made her feel so on edge. He was one of the most enigmatic people she'd ever met, and she found him inexplicably irritating—like a splinter in her finger that she wanted to get rid of.

Yet sometimes, I feel the opposite, and want to keep George near for the rest of my life.

"Do you not want to join the card game over there in the corner?" Selina asked. "I know how much you like playing."

"No. But thank you for suggesting it. I have no wish to join in and am perfectly content here by the fire. Besides, it is not so much the game I like, more the patterns I see in the cards. And it's the same for me with music."

This was mighty odd. Selina had never heard of cards being linked with music before. Although now, on reflection, she could see there was a certain similarity—if one possessed a dry logical brain. And if one were a creature of habit who valued sequence and order above all else. In other words—if one were unimaginative.

Selina put her shoulders back. She was not like that. She preferred spontaneity and naturalness. When she married, Selina would choose a man she loved, one who acted on the spur of the moment and was full to the brim with ideas and lively thoughts—not one who stared into fires and muttered about logic. Where was the romance in that? The emotion? And love?

One thing is for sure: Mr. George Fitzgerald is the last person on earth I would ever want to marry.

Isn't he?