“Very nice,” Alessandro told her when she finished, “you're quite
accomplished.”
“Thank you, Nonno. I love music.” She switched to Handel and played the
slow opening chords of “I Know that My Redeemer Liveth.” Then she sang.
Christopher remembered her telling him she could sing rather well, and he had teased her about opera, but after their rapid and traumatic wedding, he had forgotten the conversation. Truly she is no operatic soprano, he realized. She's better.
Katerina's voice, delicate and soft, rang like chimes. She hit each note with
pinpoint precision, and her clever fingers never faltered on the keyboard. Just as
she climbed the scale to a high note, which she touched with the lightness of a
butterfly's wing, her impromptu concert was interrupted.
“Brava,” a strange woman said, her voice slightly unpleasant as she eyed the
pianoforte with a proprietary air. “Signor Bianchi, who is this ingénue? Are you
replacing me?”
Alessandro's suntanned skin darkened. “Of course not, Madame St. Jean.
This is my granddaughter, Katerina Bennett. Remember, we're having a festa in her honor?”
“Oh, that's right. How sweet. And the gentleman?” She ran hungry eyes over
Christopher's frame.
“Her husband, Signor Christopher Bennett.”
Katerina felt a twinge of anxiety. This singer is much showier and more beautiful than I. Her golden hair shimmered, and her rosebud lips curbed into a flirtatious smile as she regarded the young man. Her low-cut morning dress displayed her voluptuous figure almost to the point of indecency, and she fluttered her shoulders in a way that might have been a simple fidget… but wasn't. She knows how to attract male attention, this one.
Katerina glanced at her grandfather. He was watching the curvy beauty
watch his grandson-in-law, and a look of anger crossed his craggy face.
Hoping to break the uncomfortable silence, Katerina rose from the piano
bench and took her husband's arm. He patted her reassuringly. “Pleased to meet
you, Madame St. Jean. I'm looking forward to hearing you sing. I'm sure you'd
like the music room to yourself, so you can practice. Grandfather, I would love
to see your olive grove now, if you have time.”
Alessandro shook his head as though to clear it. “Yes, in a moment. Can you
two go back to the parlor and wait for me? I have something I have to do. You
do remember the way, do you not?”
“We do,” Christopher assured him, and escorted his wife from the room.
Once the door was closed behind them, Katerina sighed… and then giggled.
“What, love?” he asked as they made their way down the hallway.
“I believe Madame Aimée St. Jean was chosen for more than just her
musical ability,” she said, feeling naughty for even suggesting such a thing.
“Oh?”
“If I'm not very much mistaken, she appears to be his mistress.” Katerina's cheeks warmed.
Christopher chuckled. “Yes, I did get that impression. Does it bother you?”
She laughed. “Of course not. He's been widowed a long time, and she's quite
lovely and very young. I doubt she's seen forty years. Good for him.”
“Yes, well, she has a wandering eye. I'm not sure how he figures on keeping
