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corner; Colin was nowhere to be found.
    “Have you settled on a scene?” the countess asked, looking over my shoulder at the book I was holding. The room had lit up around her, her evening gown fashioned from an iridescent silk that clung to the curves of her perfect hips.
    “I think something from The Frogs .”
    “Greek, of course. You’re like an eager schoolgirl. It’s so sweet. But I think you should choose something more modern.” The emerald choker around her neck drew out the green of her eyes.
    “Funny you should suggest that. Do you know the story of The Frogs ? The god Dionysus, the patron of theaters, has grown utterly disgusted with the current crop of tragedies being produced in Athens. He decides there’s no hope for modern plays, and that the only thing to do is to go to Hades and bring back to earth one of the great playwrights from what he considers the golden days.”
    “And this is meant to be amusing?” the countess asked, idly twirling one of the dark curls that framed her face. Her hair shone like satin.
    “It’s vastly amusing. When he gets to Hades he sets up a competition between Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. They battle for the title of best tragedian. First—”
    “Oh, please don’t tell me, Lady Ashton. It will make it all themore difficult to sit and watch if I already know what is to happen.”
    “Watch? I’m counting on you to take part. I’d hoped you’d play Euripides,” I said. Being this near to her, I felt utterly inadequate, washed out in the face of her brightness—too thin where she was curvy, my youth and inexperience paling next to her sophisticated wisdom.
    “Is that so?” The corners of her mouth twitched. “Well, perhaps I’ve misjudged you. Even I know that Euripides is the greatest of the tragedians.”
    This brought a smile to my face. It was all I could do to resist pointing out that Euripides, in rather spectacular fashion, lost the contest. Feeling more than a little smug, I excused myself from her and crossed the room to Lord Fortescue, ready to embark on the task given to me by Mr. Harrison.
    “Lovely dinner, didn’t you think?” I asked. “Your wife has quite a flair for selecting menus. The venison was spectacular.” He did not reply. “I’ve given a great deal of thought to what you said to me about marrying Colin.”
    “Have you?” he asked. I stepped towards him, forcing him to back into a corner, blocked from exiting unless I walked away. Mr. Harrison watched us for a moment, then left the room.
    “I’ve heard it said that your daughter aspires to being his wife. If that’s your motivation for trying to separate me from Colin, you should come straight out and say it rather than acting as if it’s a matter of state security.”
    “You’ll do well to keep out of Clara’s business.”
    So Mr. Harrison was telling the truth. I should have known. It was unlikely that he’d conjured up by coincidence the correct name of one of Lord Fortescue’s eight daughters. “And you’d do well to keep out of mine.”
    “Have you considered what I could do to Hargreaves if you continue to insist on marrying him?”
    “I’ve heard it said that blackmail is your preferred method of controlling people. Colin is not the sort of man whose past is rife with fodder for that.”
    “You don’t know him so well as you think. And don’t forget about yourself. Imagine what I might do to you, and what seeing you destroyed would do to him.”
    “I know my own past well enough to feel certain that there is nothing you can hold over me.”
    “It’s not your past that should concern you, but your present. You’re very easily manipulated. Choosing to release Hargreaves from your engagement will be much less painful than the alternative.”
    “Do you mean to frighten me, Lord Fortescue? If so, I must tell you that you’re failing dreadfully.”
    A menacing sound lurched from his throat. I only realized it was laughter when I saw the smile on