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Thud.
Liar, Juno wanted to yell at this show of indifference. He was jealous, and she was just wicked enough to be pleased about that.
She turned a bright smile on St. Blaise. “A Greek architect, who was studying in London.” She paused. Leo kept his back to her. She added, “He proved a very pleasant way of passing the time.”
“Those Greek gods.” St. Blaise nodded sagely. “They do know how to have a good time, don’t they?”
“They do, indeed.”
Another dart hit the oaken board. Thud.
No need to be more explicit; they understood. It was not wise to allude so openly to a lover, but it was suddenly important for Leo to know she needed nothing from him.You see, Leo?she wanted to say.I can get kisses from whomever I please, and I shall not miss you at all.
Happily, St. Blaise was doing the work for her. “Paint a portrait of me intrigued and hang it on the wall!” he said with relish. “I say, Polly, are you very shocked to learn of this Greek’s existence?”
“The world holds millions of Greeks,” came his cool reply. “’Tis hardly a shock some might find their way to London.”
Thud.
St. Blaise leaned forward eagerly. “What happened to this Greek Adonis? Did he break your heart, Miss Bell? I must hear your tale.”
“And I must disappoint you,” Juno said. “He never had my heart.”
Thud.
“He left me. That is all. He went back to Greece. He was homesick, poor darling.”
Thud.
“Homesick for what?” St. Blaise said. “There’s nothing in Greece. We stole all the good bits and brought them over here.” He shook his head theatrically. “Preposterous, I say. What does Greece have that London doesn’t?”
Juno sighed. “Decent food and actual sunlight.”
“But that’s—that’s—” St. Blaise sighed too. “That’s an excellent point, actually.”
Thud.
Juno risked a glance at Leo. He was scowling down at the tin box: no more darts. All his throws had landed wide of the center. Ha! Serve him right.
He looked up. Their eyes met. His blue gaze pierced her like one of those darts. Dimly, she was aware of him saying, “The painting?” and St. Blaise repeating, “Ah yes, the painting.” A movement from the other chair, the door clicking shut.
And the room narrowing around them, now they were alone.
* * *
Juno wishedshe could play Leo’s game of studied indifference, but that fluttering had started up again inside her, an intense fluttering from her throat to her thighs, the sort of fluttering that could be relieved only by a lover’s touch.
Desperate to move, she rose, crossed to a glass-fronted cabinet, and stared unseeingly past her own ghostly reflection to the wooden toys within.
“He was your lover, this architect,” Leo said.
His atypical bluntness startled her. She pivoted to face him. “And if he was?”
“You mentioned you have criteria. For your liaisons.”
“Just as you have criteria for your marriages.” She gave him what she hoped was an arch look. “At any rate, you do not meet my criteria.”
“I never imagined I did.”
