Free Masquerading the Marquess by Anne Mallory

her slipper. He had stretched his legs out, forcing hers to remain tucked under the chair. She leaned back and lashed out, kicking him in the shin. His eyes glittered.
     
    Calliope widened her eyes and made a show of looking under the table. "Oh, how clumsy of me."
     
    Stephen glanced at her. She smiled, and he resumed his conversation with Stella.
    Her toes hurt.
     
    "Tell me, Esmerelda, what do you do in your spare time? Do you have any hobbies?"
     
    It was the first thing Angelford had said to her all day.
     
    "I enjoy reading . "
     
    She stabbed a piece of the tender beef on her plate and popped it in her mouth. Stephen had already finished his meal, but she had been pushing hers around her plate.
     
    "What do you like to read?"
     
    "Shakespeare."
     
    " Macbeth ?"
     
    " Twelfth Night ."
     
    "Interesting."
     
    She forced another piece of beef into her mouth, hoping he would stop talking. The juicy meat had lost its flavor and tasted like leather.
     
    "And do you enjoy music?"
     
    She chewed slowly and sipped her water. "Mozart. Rossini, Beethoven." She was being rude and didn’t care.
     
    "James, I was telling Esmerelda the other day about Milan and La Scala. Do you remember that night?"
     
    The mocking dropped from Angelford’s face and he smiled at Stephen, his eyes crinkling in the corners. A genuine smile from the Marquess of Angelford. Calliope was suddenly glad he had never loosed one on her.
     
    "I do, but I’m surprised you remember." Angelford looked at Stella. "Stephen imbibed a bit too much wine. Thought a contessa was a tavern wench. Nearly got his ears boxed."
     
    "She was a tavern wench."
     
    "Aren’t we all?" Stella joined in the fun. Calliope didn’t want to like her, but it was hard not to. Under different circumstances they might have been friends.
     
    "But she was a tavern wench, I tell you. Ask Roth, he was there."
     
    "Ask me what?"
     
    "About the tavern wench masquerading as a contessa," Angelford said.
     
    "Nearly unmanned Stephen, if I recall."
     
    Stephen looked affronted. "Am I the only one here who remembers the evening correctly? The contessa nearly unmanned James. The tavern wench liked me."
     
    "Sorry, boyo. They were not two women, and you were the one on the ground, not me."
     
    Roth nodded agreement.
     
    Stephen glared at him. "Well, if I remember correctly, Roth ended up in—"
     
    A piece of bread bounced off Stephen’s head. "I insist we cease now before the three of us damage what’s left of our reputations," Roth said.
     
    Suddenly all three of them were smiling. Calliope remembered Madame Giselle’s comment about the trio.
     
    The light-hearted bantering continued, and Calliope found herself swept into the fray.
     
     
     
    Calliope strolled out of the Newmarket inn and into the cool night. Her back and right leg ached from the ramrod posture she had maintained throughout dinner. Why couldn’t Stephen have invited only Roth? And perhaps Stella sans Angelford?
     
    Dinner had proven to be much more lively after the Milan memories, but it had been too late to help her aching back.
     
    The cloudless day had spilled into the night. The stars shone brilliantly this far from the London haze.
     
    How nice it was to spend time away from the bustle of town. Too bad they would be returning on the morrow.
     
    She walked farther into the small garden outside the inn. One of the benches she had spied earlier would be perfect for stargazing and was close enough to the inn to keep her out of trouble if one of the drunks coming out of the taverns happened by. She skirted a few hedges and peered into the dark recess of the garden. Moving from memory, she neared one of the three benches facing the small fountain in the center. It was a modest garden, and quite perfect for uninterrupted gazing.
     
    She was certain one of the benches was straight ahead, but her eyes hadn’t totally adjusted to the dark. She tentatively stuck out a foot and hit stone.