‘Come and help us.’ Her cousin patted the chair next to her. ‘We are trying to make this reticule from a pattern in Ackermann’s Repository. It says it may be easily made up with a little care. We’ve had three attempts to cut it out, and it still looks lop-sided.’
‘Perhaps if we trace off the pattern on this thinner paper and then fold it in half…’ Alessa was working as she spoke. This was like making paper castles with the children. ‘And then cut round and open it out. There—is that better?’
‘Wonderful.’ Frances applied the pattern to a fresh piece of cardboard and began to trace round it. ‘What shall we cover it in?’
An hour later the reticule was nearing completion, but Alessa could not believe that the four
of them had spent so much time on a frivolous piece of handwork. Nor could she recall having sat still for so long without doing something useful for an age. She glanced anxiously towards her aunt, who was making inroads into what seemed to be an inexhaustible pile of correspondence.
‘I feel I ought to be doing something useful for Lady Blackstone,’ she whispered.
‘Goodness, Mama will soon tell us if she needs anything,’ Frances responded. ‘You are here as my cousin, not a paid companion. I am sure you need a rest as well, having to earn your living making all those medicines and things. And don’t you have two children living with you? Still, I expect your chaperon helps look after them.’
‘Yes, but…Yes, of course.’
‘What sort of medicines do you make?’ Helena put down the needle she was trying to thread. ‘Love potions?’
As it happened Alessa had both a medicine for inflaming male passions and one for damping them down in her repertoire. Both had been taught her by Agatha, although she had never had cause to prescribe either. However, she suspected that a potion to make a man ‘as virile as a rutting boar’ was not quite what Helena had in mind.
How young these girls seemed, playing with their fashion journals and dreaming of flirtation. Still, she had to live with them, if only for a while. She must try and enter into the spirit of life here. ‘For whom do you want it?’ she enquired conspiratorially.
Helena giggled and blushed. ‘She thinks she’s in love with the Count of Kurateni,’ Maria whispered.
‘Oh, Voltar…’ Frances sighed gustily, ducking as a balled-up skein of sewing silk flew at her.
‘He seems to be very handsome and charming,’ Alessa said diplomatically. ‘Have you known him long?’
‘Only from a distance.’ From Helena’s gusty sigh, Alessa rather gathered that this had lent enchantment to her infatuation. ‘He visits Uncle Thomas on business sometimes.’
‘I think he is a pirate—what do you think, Alexandra? Have you met him before?’
‘No, never, but anyone living in Corfu Town would know him by sight—he is a great trader and his ships are often in the port. What about you, Maria? Do you have a beau?’ For some reason this reduced Miss Trevick to silent confusion.
‘She is in love with someone, but we don’t know who, she won’t tell, the sly thing,’ Frances announced.
‘Well, at least I am not throwing out lures to the Earl,’ Maria retorted.
‘More fool you,’ Frances said pertly. ‘I think he is gorgeous. What do you think, Alexandra?’
‘Very handsome,’ Alessa pronounced judiciously, ‘but very arrogant too, don’t you think? He looks it anyway. And he expects to get his own way in everything, I have no doubt.’
‘So hard to please!’ A masculine voice behind her made her jump and reduced the other three, all sitting with their heads close together, to blushing confusion. ‘Who is this handsome man you are so critical of, Miss Meredith? Does he know your harsh opinion? The poor creature must be desolated, all hope lost, if he does.’
‘You are dreadful, Count.’ Helena gazed at him wide-eyed. ‘Don’t you think he is dreadful, Lord Blakeney?’
‘I am sure of it.’ Chance strolled in and, catching one of the remaining chairs set at the table, spun it round and straddled it, his chin on his clasped hands resting on the back. His eyes roamed round the four flushed faces before him. ‘What has my friend Zagrede done to offend you ladies this morning?’
‘Miss Meredith was expressing the harshest opinion of some poor, weak man and I came to his defence, that is all. So fair, and yet so cruel.’ The Count dropped one lid in a slow wink that sent Helena into stifled laughter.
‘Who is this unsatisfactory creature?’ Chance’s brown eyes studied Alessa, leaving her in no doubt he knew perfectly well who she had been criticising. She returned his stare, as coolly as he sent it.
‘I dare not say, and if I did, the poor thing would not recognise himself, such is his self-assurance. I might even say, smug arrogance.’
‘You have a low opinion of my whole sex, I dare say.’
‘I have had the opportunity to observe feckless husbands and idle sons, although most of my fellow islanders work very hard and are devout, good men. Of male English aristocrats my experience has not been, shall we say, encouraging.’
The others had fallen silent, puzzling over this sparring match, although Alessa was hardly aware of their presence—Chance’s brown eyes seemed to fill her sight.