Italy."
"In Italy?" Sir Northrop shot a glare at her.
"Oh, how lovely. I adore Italy!" the comtesse exclaimed, her accented English thick and difficult to understand. "Where in Italy?"
Sarah closed her eyes for a moment and said the first place that popped into her mind. "The Piazza San Pietro. Isn't that right, Sir Northrop?" His eyes were throwing daggers, but she did not care. Let him think on his feet for once. He was the one knighted for service.
Sir Northrop took a long moment to consider then said coolly, "My wife and I traveled to Rome on our honeymoon. We first met Mademoiselle Serafina and her family there. Of course, Serafina was but a child then. Our families have kept up the connection over the years."
"And you didn't know she was in London?" the duchesse asked.
"No idea," Sir Northrop answered, and he almost looked as though he were telling the truth.
"I wrote," Sarah said quickly, not wanting Mademoiselle Serafina to appear rude. "Perhaps the letter was misdirected."
Sir Northrop nodded at her. "Perhaps." He turned to the duchesse. "Your Grace, would you mind if I stole Mademoiselle Serafina away for just one moment? I know Lady Merton would love to see her. I'll bring her right back."
"Of course," the duchesse said. "We'll wait here."
Sir Northrop offered his arm, and Sarah took it. With her upswept hair, rouged skin, and fancy gown, she felt ridiculous beside the man who knew she was nothing more than a governess. But she reminded herself that no one else knew she was a fraud, and she held her head high. Sir Northrop led her across the room, glanced over his shoulder casually, and then opened a side terrace door and slipped out.
The side terrace was small and empty. Chinese lanterns lit the main terrace as well as the lawns, but this section was shrouded from light. Sir Northrop closed the terrace door and leaned against it. Sarah pressed herself against the banister.
"How are you doing?" Sir Northrop asked without prelude. "Have you found any evidence?"
Sarah stared at him, anger building. "Found any evidence? No. I'm too busy trying to remember that my father is deathly ill, my family fled from Marseilles, and that buona sera means good evening. I think."
Sir Northrop raised a brow at her tone.
"I'm sorry," Sarah said, "but I'm at my wit's end. Thank God you interrupted just now. They wanted me to tell the story of the Guyennes' flight from France." Her voice was rising, sounding slightly panicked, and Sir Northrop held up a hand.
"None of that, Serafina. I won't have it. Calm down."
"Calm down? I might be able to calm down if I had a fortnight to study my character. If you'd given me more than three days to learn all of this!" She gestured at her gown and then the ballroom. "But how am I supposed to calm down when I have the duc de Valère asking me to marry him?"
Sir Northrop leaned forward, and she could have sworn his eyes glinted. "Valère asked you to marry him?"
She shook her head. "As if you didn't know! As if you didn't arrange it through the letters."
"We didn't arrange it, but we had hoped the idea would occur to the Valères."
Sarah shook her head, exasperated. She could hear her tinkling earbobs sway. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He waved a hand as though her question were inconsequential. "What did you say?"
"No, of course."
"No?" His voice boomed out, and she winced. "Why did you say no?"
"Was I supposed to say yes?"
"Of course!"
"How was I to know that?"
"Any idiot would know that."
She inhaled sharply and straightened her shoulders. "I see. Perhaps you'd like to send someone else to play Serafina. Someone who's not an idiot."
She tried to push past him, to return to the ball, but he grabbed her shoulders and thrust her back against the banister. "This is not a game," he gritted out, his
"In Italy?" Sir Northrop shot a glare at her.
"Oh, how lovely. I adore Italy!" the comtesse exclaimed, her accented English thick and difficult to understand. "Where in Italy?"
Sarah closed her eyes for a moment and said the first place that popped into her mind. "The Piazza San Pietro. Isn't that right, Sir Northrop?" His eyes were throwing daggers, but she did not care. Let him think on his feet for once. He was the one knighted for service.
Sir Northrop took a long moment to consider then said coolly, "My wife and I traveled to Rome on our honeymoon. We first met Mademoiselle Serafina and her family there. Of course, Serafina was but a child then. Our families have kept up the connection over the years."
"And you didn't know she was in London?" the duchesse asked.
"No idea," Sir Northrop answered, and he almost looked as though he were telling the truth.
"I wrote," Sarah said quickly, not wanting Mademoiselle Serafina to appear rude. "Perhaps the letter was misdirected."
Sir Northrop nodded at her. "Perhaps." He turned to the duchesse. "Your Grace, would you mind if I stole Mademoiselle Serafina away for just one moment? I know Lady Merton would love to see her. I'll bring her right back."
"Of course," the duchesse said. "We'll wait here."
Sir Northrop offered his arm, and Sarah took it. With her upswept hair, rouged skin, and fancy gown, she felt ridiculous beside the man who knew she was nothing more than a governess. But she reminded herself that no one else knew she was a fraud, and she held her head high. Sir Northrop led her across the room, glanced over his shoulder casually, and then opened a side terrace door and slipped out.
The side terrace was small and empty. Chinese lanterns lit the main terrace as well as the lawns, but this section was shrouded from light. Sir Northrop closed the terrace door and leaned against it. Sarah pressed herself against the banister.
"How are you doing?" Sir Northrop asked without prelude. "Have you found any evidence?"
Sarah stared at him, anger building. "Found any evidence? No. I'm too busy trying to remember that my father is deathly ill, my family fled from Marseilles, and that buona sera means good evening. I think."
Sir Northrop raised a brow at her tone.
"I'm sorry," Sarah said, "but I'm at my wit's end. Thank God you interrupted just now. They wanted me to tell the story of the Guyennes' flight from France." Her voice was rising, sounding slightly panicked, and Sir Northrop held up a hand.
"None of that, Serafina. I won't have it. Calm down."
"Calm down? I might be able to calm down if I had a fortnight to study my character. If you'd given me more than three days to learn all of this!" She gestured at her gown and then the ballroom. "But how am I supposed to calm down when I have the duc de Valère asking me to marry him?"
Sir Northrop leaned forward, and she could have sworn his eyes glinted. "Valère asked you to marry him?"
She shook her head. "As if you didn't know! As if you didn't arrange it through the letters."
"We didn't arrange it, but we had hoped the idea would occur to the Valères."
Sarah shook her head, exasperated. She could hear her tinkling earbobs sway. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He waved a hand as though her question were inconsequential. "What did you say?"
"No, of course."
"No?" His voice boomed out, and she winced. "Why did you say no?"
"Was I supposed to say yes?"
"Of course!"
"How was I to know that?"
"Any idiot would know that."
She inhaled sharply and straightened her shoulders. "I see. Perhaps you'd like to send someone else to play Serafina. Someone who's not an idiot."
She tried to push past him, to return to the ball, but he grabbed her shoulders and thrust her back against the banister. "This is not a game," he gritted out, his
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