He stopped and turned me to face him. “Veronica, if Spyridon ever attempts to get you alone, do not permit it.”
“Oh. You think he would try to seduce me.” I was not entirely surprised. I had dealt with many such examples of ardent behaviour in the course of my travels, and as Stoker was well aware, I had not rebuffed all of them. But since I had given my heart to Stoker, I had no inclination to dally elsewhere. I might not believe in matrimony, but in the joys and powers of fidelity I had perfect confidence.
“No,” he said seriously. “I think he will try to propose.”
“Propose! Surely not.”
“I have seen that look before,” Stoker said.
“He has had many wives?” I asked as we resumed our walk back to the Belvedere.
“Seven, at last count. Mind you do not become the eighth.”
“I shall do exactly as you advise,” I told him.
He stopped dead in his tracks. “Are you possessed by a demon? Shall I summon a priest for an exorcism?”
I smiled innocently. “Can a lady not wish to defer to her inamorato?”
“Not this lady,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “And you have never deferred to anything in your life. What are you up to?”
“I must say, it is extremely offensive that you think I am up to something, as you so vulgarly describe it.”
He took a step nearer, his shadow falling over my face, his breath stirring against my cheek. “Veronica.”
I huffed out a sigh. “Very well. After Lady Wellie mentioned Parthenope Fleet and her connection to the Curiosity Club, I thought it might be a sound notion to purchase tickets to the tableaux vivants after all. So I spoke to Lady Cordelia this morning and secured our admission.”
He furrowed his brow. “Is that all? Parthenope Fleet suggested it as a place to make the acquaintance of Eliza Elyot and Undine Trevelyan.It was clever of you to anticipate that, but I already knew we were going to have to attend the tableaux.”
“Not attend, precisely,” I said. I paused, waiting for him to assemble the pieces for himself.
“Oh, no,” he said at last.
“Yes. I’m afraid Lady Cordelia had no more tickets to sell. The event is quite popular, the most well-attended of all the Curiosity Club engagements of the year. The only way to gain entrance was for us to agree to pose.”
“Us? We agreed to pose, did we?” Stoker could never arch his brow with the same aplomb as his elder brother, but he did a fine imitation—so fine that I found myself squirming just a little.
“We did. And you will be very pleased to know that she is placing us in tableau together. Isn’t that nice?” I gave him my most cajoling look.
“In what tableau?” he asked, his eyes glittering.
“A Classical and heroic one,” I told him. “You will be playing a gentleman whose physique and talents are so very like your own, it will show you to the most excellent advantage.”
“In. What. Tableau.” Each word was clipped and demanding.
“Samson and Delilah,” I admitted finally.
“And I will be wearing what, exactly?” His tone had turned pleasant which I knew marked the most dangerous point of the conversation.
“A loincloth and a very nice belt.” He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving me standing.
“And sandals!” I called after him.
A less clever woman might have made the mistake of attempting appeasement, but I had learnt long ago that a far better strategy when dealing with Stoker’s tempers was to ignore them entirely. His anger, though easily provoked, was usually of short duration and handily worked out by vigorous physical exercise followed by a period of intense work upon his latest trophy.
I had expected him to be reconciled to his fate by breakfast the next morning, but this sulk proved a stubborn one, lasting through a frigid swim in the pond, a full day’s work spent with his lovely owl, and the entire tray sent up by Lord Rosemorran’s cook for our teatime.
“You realise you have taken all of the jam tarts? And the rock cakes?” I asked pleasantly.