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“Mama, you so captured Lady Sarah that Lady Clara was overwrought!” Pen clasped her hands in front of her, mischief in her brown eyes.
“It’s a truly remarkable work, Sirena.”
The woman shook her head. “I’m not finished yet. Something eludes me…”
“Go and work on your painting,” Clara urged, and though Sirena shook her head, she saw how torn Sirena was. “Please. I’m afraid I didn’t sleep too well last night,” she lied. “I’d like nothing more than to sit quietly in Pen’s room while she works on her books, and for you to spend some time on your painting. If you wouldn’t mind me being an awful guest, it would be rather welcome to rest for a bit.”
Eyeing her suspiciously, Sirena searched Clara’s face, but after a moment, the lure of her project was too great, and she nodded.
Clara accompanied Pen to her chamber, where she was working on one of her projects—scouring accounting books from her father’s enterprises for errors. For years she’d adored the peculiar task, and Vassilis indulged and even appreciated it.
As she had in her own home last night, Clara fell asleep in a chair, this time listening to Pen turn ledger pages back and forth.
She woke an untold time later, rubbing her stiff neck and frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. After recognizing Pen at her desk, she judged that she’d slept at least an hour based on the amount of taper that melted.
Clara bid goodnight to Pen and went downstairs in search of David. She decided to let Sirena be, and not distract her from her painting.
Following the men’s voices, she discovered them in the dining room still—and judging by the volume, enthusiasm, and slur of her brother’s speech, he was in his cups. Clara shook her head in disbelief and stifled a giggle.
“Of course, if youwantto produce inferior quality cushions, buy the silk from your sources in India!” Vassilis exclaimed. “The silk I’m offering to you is incomparishable…incompatible…incompartmental—”
“Incomparable!” David supplied for him good-naturedly.
Clara covered her mouth with her hand.
“Yes, yes, it’s inconceivable! And my price is fair for the quality. If quality goods are what you seek.”
“I beg your pardon for the interruption,” said Clara, sailing into the dining room. With impeccable timing, she didn’t even have to feign the huge yawn that gripped her jaws.
“It’s best we take our leave, it is.” David stood, weaving slightly. “Before Vassilis sets a contract before me that I sign before reading!”
Both men burst into laughter so hearty that Vassilis leaned forward from his chair to lay his head on the dining table, and David bent and gripped the table.
Small glasses of colorless liquid sat in front of them, and Vassilis managed to convince David to drain his after a final toast.
“What’s the name of dis, `gain?” David asked.
“Tsipouro,” Vassilis said with dramatic slowness.
Both men laughed so hard that David had to peel himself off the table.
Once in the carriage, he keeled to one side.
“Forgive me, Clara.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. I can’t remember the last time I saw you laugh so much.”
“It’s the tsipouro!” he whispered loudly.
She nodded seriously, trying not to laugh.
“I don’t ordinarily imbibe like that. It was like a very pleasant grappa. What’s more, it improved the mood a great deal, what with…Adrian’s problem.”
Adrian’s problem? His wife is dying!“Sirena shared what has the family so distressed. I had no idea. Did you?”
He shook his head. “Not the extent. Adrian isn’t one to complain, is he? I don’t know how much even Nicholas or Vassilis have known until recently.”
“How can thatbe?”
