Griselda.

She pleaded with him in song to ignore Aimée and give his attention to his

wife, to her heart, which she was offering without reservation. Her emotion, her

adoration vibrated palpably in the room. Unfortunately, he had no idea… or maybe it is fortunate. I would be embarrassed if he understood.

After a delicately shimmering high note, the song ended, and the room

erupted with applause, startling her again. Red-faced and trembling, she slunk back to her seat beside Christopher. He took her hand and held it indiscreetly.

Alessandro rose from his seat, his face red but his voice falsely cheerful.

“Thank you, ladies, for those lovely performances. We will give our verdict after

dinner. And now, friends, shall we adjourn to the dining room?”

There was a general exodus, and it wasn't until later that the guests noticed

their host had not joined them.

As Aimée moved towards the door, Alessandro caught her arm in a hard grip, pulling her back. “What exactly was that?” he asked her, his expression

thunderous.

“Music, chérie,” she answered in her usual flirtatious lightness.

He shook her. “No. You know what I mean. Why were you throwing yourself

at my granddaughter's husband?”

“I was only playing. I don't care in the slightest about Mr. Bennett.” She twined her arms around Alessandro's neck, trying to distract him from his anger.

“Then why the hell were you flirting with him?” His grip on her arm

tightened to bruising force, and he yanked her away from him. “You

embarrassed me. Everyone knows I'm your protector, Aimée.”

She attempted to placate him by stroking his cheek. “No, don't be angry, chérie. I didn't mean anything by it.”

“If you aren't attempting to seduce him, what were you trying to accomplish?

Were you hoping to upset Katerina by undermining her relationship with her husband?” He removed her arms from him.

“No, it was a joke,” she whined, her voice pleading.

“Well, I, for one, am not amused. I'm sure Katerina isn't either. You know, I

think I've had about enough of you. Go pack up your possessions and leave. I don't want to see you again. Goodbye, Aimée.”

He turned and left.

The beautiful soprano stared after him in shock. She had not stopped to

consider the consequences of her actions, determined as she had been to see her

perceived rival humiliated. She hadn't given a moment's thought to how her behavior would reflect on Alessandro. And now he was furious… and he was gone.

She had gone too far, she realized, and she deserved his anger. No part of her

behavior had been acceptable. She had been cruel to Katerina, and ridiculous towards the girl's husband. How stupid.

Tears streaming down her face, she walked slowly to the room she'd been

sharing with Alessandro. She wasn't ready to leave him. Perhaps she never would be, but it would be a miracle if he would forgive her now.

At the table, Katerina sat between Christopher and an Italian gentleman in his mid-thirties, whose name she could not remember.

“Excellent performance,” he told her, his dark eyes shining.

“Thank you,” she replied. After the stressful and uncomfortable evening, a simple conversation could no longer make her blush. “I'm sorry, sir, but what was your name?”

“Me? I'm Carlo Bianchi,” he replied.

“A relative?” She raised her eyebrows. “I've met so many tonight, I can't remember who is who.”

“Your uncle. Your mother was my twin sister.”

“Oh.” Her face burned. “Sorry.”

He smiled at her. “Not to worry, my dear.”

She smiled, glad he wasn't angry.

“You remind me of her. She loved music, though she didn't have your…

skill.” Carlo's eyes turned sad. “I've missed her terribly. We were very close. Did

she ever… mention me?”

Katerina looked down at her plate. “Sorry. Our life was not one to encourage