Callie thought she might perish from embarrassment right there. On the spot.
“May I offer you a piece of advice?”
Callie’s head snapped up, and she watched the raven-haired beauty in the mirror. Nastasia was no longer looking at her, but instead off through a large window through which the afternoon sun poured into the fitting room. After several long moments of silence, Callie’s curiosity got the better of her. “Please.”
Nastasia spoke, the words coming from far away. “When I was eighteen, I met the first of those men. Dimitri was generous and kind and a remarkable lover…everything I had dreamed of…everything I hadn’t known I longed for. It was inevitable that I fell in love with him. And it was a love that surpassed anything I’d ever known…anything I’d ever heard of—mythic in its proportions. He was the only man I would ever love.” She paused, sadness passing over her face so quickly that Callie was not entirely certain it had been there to begin with. “But he could not love me in return. The capacity for that kind of emotion…it was not in him. And, so, instead, he broke my heart.”
Tears sprang to Callie’s eyes, unbidden, at the sadness of the other woman’s story. She couldn’t contain her curiosity. “What happened?”
Nastasia gave a small, elegant shrug. “I left Greece. And my voice carried the day.”
Valerie stood, finished with her task, and Nastasia seemed to return from far away. Her eyes cleared as she inspected the young woman’s work in the mirror. “Ralston is your Dimitri. Guard your heart well.”
There was a pregnant pause as the two women each considered their own reflections. “If you could do it again…would you have taken him without love?” Callie blurted out the question, regretting it as soon as the words were spoken.
Nastasia thought for a long moment, her face a portrait of sadness. When her eyes met Callie’s in the mirror, they were liquid with emotion. “No,” she whispered. “I loved him too much for it to be one-sided.”
Callie brushed away an errant tear as Madame Hebert returned, apprentice in tow, unaware of the conversation that had taken place. Nastasia turned her head to the dressmaker. “Lady Calpurnia’s gown is beautiful,” she said, “I should like one of the same fabric.”
Madame Hebert spoke in clipped tones. “I am sorry, Miss Kritikos. The fabric is no longer available.”
Nastasia gave Callie a frank appraisal, from head to toe. “Well, then, it appears you are making a habit of receiving those things that I desire, Lady Calpurnia.” She offered a small smile. “May you have better luck than I. That dress will certainly help.”
Callie dipped her head in acknowledgment of Nastasia’s words. “Thank you, Miss Kritikos. And, may I say, I think you are a brilliant talent.”
Nastasia stepped from her platform and sank into a deep, gracious curtsy, finally acknowledging Callie’s social position. “You are too kind, my lady.” With that, she and Valerie exited to a side dressing room, where Callie could only imagine there were other garments for Nastasia to consider. She watched the other woman leave, surprised and saddened by the direction of their conversation.
Returning her attention to the curious dressmaker, Callie offered her a small, watery smile. She knew what Madame Hebert was thinking. What could an opera singer and the sister of an earl possibly have to say to each other?
The modiste had been running her salon for too long to risk insulting her patrons with questions about their personal lives, however, and her business acumen forced her to turn her focus to Callie’s hem.
Madame Hebert adjusted the length of Callie’s skirt, then issued instructions to the young apprentice and left the room. The girl began to pin Callie’s dress in silence, and Callie played the conversation with Nastasia over in her mind. The singer’s words had been powerful; Callie had felt them like a blow. She had known the truth, of course, that Ralston would never be able to love her the way she desired, but hearing Nastasia’s story—sensing its truth—had intensified Callie’s sadness from earlier in the day.
She watched her reflection in the mirror as her tears blurred it. She could be as beautiful as the woman in the mirror every day, but it would not make Ralston love her. And, perhaps, if he were anyone else—someone whom she loved less, or not at all—she would have embraced his offer of marriage and accepted. But she had dreamed of being his for too long. He had quite ruined her for a marriage of convenience. She wanted everything from him: his mind, his body, his name and, most of all, his heart.
Perhaps refusing him had been a mistake. Perhaps she should have jumped at the opportunity to be his marchioness. To be the mother of his children. Callie’s heart clenched at the idea of little dark-haired, blue-eyed babies clinging to her skirts. But it seemed that Nastasia was right. The worst misery would come not from being without him but being without all of him.
Callie heaved a little sigh, willing her morbid thoughts away for this moment, as she discovered this newer, lovelier version of herself. A burst of familiar laughter came from the front of the shop, and she forced herself to smile as Juliana and Mariana hurried through the curtain, stopping short at the sight of Callie.
“Oh, Callie…” Mariana said in a hushed, reverent voice. “You look beautiful.”
Callie dipped her head at the compliment, so uncommon. “No.”
Juliana nodded her head eagerly. “It is true. You are beautiful!”
Callie’s cheeks reddened. “Thank you.”
Mari walked a slow circle around her sister. “It’s a stunning gown, Callie…but there’s more…there’s something…” She paused, looking up into her sister’s big, brown eyes. “You feel beautiful, don’t you?”
The words brought a smile to Callie’s eyes. “I rather think I do, actually.”
Juliana laughed. “Brava! It is time you feel beautiful, Callie.” When Mariana nodded encouragingly, Juliana continued, “I have thought you were lovely from the beginning of our acquaintance, of course. But, now, with this dress…you must wear it to the ball. Dovete! You must.” Three nights hence marked the Salisbury Ball, when Juliana would make her official debut to the ton. The young woman clapped her hands, excitedly. “We shall have our coming out together! With new dresses! Although I cannot imagine that any of mine will be anything so beautiful as this one!”
Mariana nodded her agreement, and Callie looked from one girl to the other, overwhelmed. “Oh, I do not imagine this dress will be ready by the ball. It must be hemmed, and I’m certain that Madame Hebert has much more important customers than I.”
“If you need it for the ball, my lady, you shall have it for the ball.” The words came from the modiste, who had reentered the room to check on the progress of her assistant. “I shall hem it myself and have it delivered first thing in the morning on one condition.” She leaned in close to Callie, and said, “You must promise that you will dance every waltz.”
Callie smiled, shaking her head. “I am afraid that is not my decision to make, Madame.”
“Nonsense,” the dressmaker scoffed. “In this dress, you shall be leaving hearts in your wake. The men, they shall be chasing after you.”