"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.
"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?"