CHAPTER 16

T he days of the visit passed pleasantly, filled with delicious food and

superb conversation. Christopher and Katerina both enjoyed getting to

know Alessandro, who proved to be a kind and amusing gentleman with a gruff

manner that belied a tender heart.

He was also dangerously enamored of his French musician. She played with

him, keeping him on his toes.

Only Aimée made the visit difficult. She teased and flirted with Christopher,

which made Katerina wild with jealousy and Alessandro furious.

She also had a skill for knowing when Katerina wanted to play the pianoforte

or the harpsichord in the music room and chasing her out. Katerina's first impulse was to avoid the music room altogether and spare herself the endless harassment, but after careful consideration, she decided it should not be

necessary to do so. Katerina wanted to play, and she sought out the room at random moments, searching for a time when she would be able to do so

unmolested.

About two days before the party, she was seated at the piano bench at six in

the morning, working on a piece of sheet music she had found.

“You again?” Aimée stormed into the music room, stopping as close to

Katerina as she could get and hovering over where she sat. “Get out of here. I need to practice.”

“Since when do you practice at six in the morning?” Katerina asked in a calm voice that belied the pounding of her heart.

“The party is the day after tomorrow. I need to be ready.” The woman made shooing motions with her hands.

“I understand the importance of that,” Katerina replied, not budging from the

bench. “If you could let me know when you're going to practice, I can work around you.”

“No.” Aimée stuck her nose in the air. “I will work when I want to. I do not

owe you a schedule. I am the professional. You're only a guest. My need is greater than yours.”

“I'm not disagreeing with you,” Katerina said, forcing her voice to calmness,

“but, Madame St. Jean, you don't practice all day. Mightn't I be here when you're

not?”

“No.” The blond crossed her arms over her ample bosom and glared.

"So, you're not willing to make even a token attempt to be reasonable?" A thread of anger sparked above Katerina's nervousness. “Why not?”

“Because I don't have to be. I will have exclusive rights to this pianoforte, and your grandfather will let me. There's nothing he would deny me.” Aimée smirked.

“No doubt that's true,” Katerina said sarcastically, “but you're not the only musician in the house.”

“Yes, I am,” Aimée sneered. “You're nothing but a dilettante. Go away.”

“I won't. I have as much right to be here as you do.” She surprised herself by

saying it, and she drew in a startled breath.

Her rival blinked, rosebud lip drooping, but she recovered quickly. “You'd better tend to your own business, Mrs. Bennett. If you're occupied at the pianoforte, I might just decide to amuse myself by spending time with your husband. He's very handsome.”

“Aren't you a bit old for him?” Katerina shot back.

Aimée's eyes narrowed at the unkind comment. “It makes no difference.

Besides, you're such a mouse, I could take him from you in an instant. He would

be glad to go.”

Katerina struggled to maintain her confident manner, but the threat hit her in

a weak place. “Unlikely. He doesn't believe in adultery.”

“Maybe, but I could make him wish he did.”

Does she have to say that? What if she's right? Katerina rose from the bench, for once taking advantage of her height to try to look intimidating. “You stay away from my husband.”

Aimée refused to back down. “Nervous, are you? You should be. Choose

wisely, Mrs. Bennett. Your husband or the pianoforte.”

Katerina's fear disappeared under a wave of pure anger. “My God, you're

disgusting. What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” the woman crowed. “I know what I want, and I take it. I don't hide in the shadows, mouse.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Katerina said with a flamboyant hand gesture.

“Non,” the singer sneered.

“Madame St. Jean,” Katerina said, struggling to remain calm, “I haven't done