Sonnet to a Dead Contessa Read Online Free Page A

tight-fitting jacket, and she had a peach cameo pinned to the lace at her throat. As she had been dressing that evening, she suddenly realised she had not paid so much attention to her attire in years, and it disturbed her and made her wonder if she had an interest in Dylan Tremayne that went beyond the ordinary.
    “Women fall all over themselves for him. I heard he can’t walk down the street without some brazen hussy making up to him.”
    “I know,” Serafina said, “but he doesn’t have anything to do with them.”
    “That’s hard to believe.”
    “He’s very religious, Margaret. I’m not, as you know, so it’s amazing that the two of us have gotten along so well.”
    “Does he preach at you?”
    “Not exactly. He talks about the things in the Bible, and he’ll say something sometimes like ‘The Lord told me to go to the mission,’ which is a little bit frightening to me.”
    “You think God really talks to him?”
    “Oh, not in an audible voice. He’s got a lot of Methodist friends, although I’m not certain he’s a part of it, but they believe like the Quakers in being led by the Spirit.”
    “Well, he doesn’t look like a preacher.”
    The curtain opened then, and the two women sat through the second half of the play. Lady Margaret was enamoured and insisted on whispering comments to Serafina as the play went on. Serafina disliked this, but she could not afford to offend Margaret, her best friend, so she endured it. Finally the play was over, and Margaret applauded as Dylan came back for several curtain calls. “He’s beautiful, Serafina! Look at those tights! No wonder every woman in London is dreaming of him—and you have him!”
    Serafina could not keep the sharp tone from her voice. “I don’t have him, Margaret!”
    “Well, he comes to your house all the time.”
    “Some of that was because we were working on cases together. He helped
me clear my brother, Clive, when he was charged with murder. I could never have done it without him. He took me into the worst parts of London you can imagine to find the real murderer. The other thing is, it’s David he comes to see.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes. He plays with him as if he were David’s age. I’ve seen him sitting on the floor sprawled out playing with toy soldiers for hours.”
    “I’ll be happy to let him come to see Charles and Roger if you’ll share him with me.”
    Serafina could not help laughing at the roguish expression. “You are just awful , Margaret!”
    “I suppose so,” Margaret sighed, “but, dear me, just look at those tights!”
    Finally the curtain calls were over, but during one of them Dylan Tremayne had spotted Serafina and had smiled directly at her and bowed. Everyone in the theatre craned their necks to see who the actor was smiling at, and Margaret said, “Every woman in this theatre hates you, Serafina.”
    “Don’t be boorish. We’re different in every way. Come along.”
    “But those tights, Serafina. Couldn’t you bend a little bit for those tights?”
    “We’re going home now. We have a full day with the children tomorrow.”
    “You’re not going backstage?”
    “Certainly not!”
    “I suppose it would do me no good to go, but if you weren’t here, I think I’d take my chances.”
    Serafina laughed. “You’d be wasting your time. I tell you, Dylan Tremayne is not interested in women. He’s interested in God.”
    Margaret sighed. “That’s too bad, isn’t it?”

    Breakfast at Serafina’s home was a rather large but informal affair. The table was more crowded than usual with Margaret and her children. Septimus and Alberta sat at opposite ends of the table, and Aldora, Serafina’s younger sister, sat at her father’s right. They had filled their plates, and the maid continued to bring food to them. The sideboard was laden with chafing dishes filled with eggs, meat, vegetables, and various pastries and breads. On the table were frequently renewed pots of tea, dishes of preserves,