Peony gave a joyous squeal of laughter and clapped her hands together in what seemed to be genuine delight. If she lived to be a thousand, Bliss reflected, she was never going to understand this woman. Didn’t it matter to Peony that she and Bliss both loved the same man?

“Enough talk about business,” she said, consulting the watch behind her cameo broach again. “It’s time we left for the opera house.”

Jamie rolled his eyes and tossed his napkin onto the table. “If you were a true friend,” he muttered to Peony, in an irascible tone, “you wouldn’t put a man through this kind of grief.”

Peony was smiling, unmoved by Jamie’s lack of enthusiasm. “Quit fussing. I think Bliss will enjoy this evening very much.”

Bliss had her doubts. She was still mourning her half-eaten roast chicken.

Twenty minutes later, the carriage pulled up in front of an enormous building with a glittering facade. Other rigs and people in fine garments were everywhere, and Bliss forgot her problems, temporarily, as she tried to take in everything.

The inside of the opera house reminded her of the lobby at the hotel, except that this place was even grander. The chandeliers were massive, made up of thousands of glittering bits of crystal, the carpets were plush, and the paintings on the walls were framed in gilt.

Her first close look at the paintings brought rich color to her face and a muttered exclamation to her lips. “They’re naked!” she marveled.

Jamie grinned, looking up at a Rubenesque female lounging among stone pillars and various kinds of pottery. “She’s a lot of woman, I’ll say that for ’er.”

Bliss’s lesson in sophistication was just beginning. After a while, an orchestra began to play and huge double doors leading to the auditorium itself were opened.

Mrs. Ryan, Jamie, and Bliss were soon settled in a private box. The little swinging door bore a brass plate with Peony’s late husband’s name engraved on it.

Program in hand, Bliss committed herself to absorbing every nuance of this special evening. She tilted her head back and studied the beautifully ornate ceiling, with its intricate cherubs, birds, and flowers. She examined the heavy stage curtain, of scarlet velvet, with its golden fringe shimmering in the glow of the gas footlights. She scrutinized the occupants of the orchestra pit down front, thrilled by their music, and only as the lights were lowered for the performance to begin did she realize that Jamie was watching her with the most peculiar expression in his eyes.

The orchestra played with a new intensity as the curtain swept back to reveal a Viking scene. Bliss was on the edge of her seat when a man wearing nothing more than a metal band around his head and a loincloth began to sing in a foreign language.

Bliss’s mouth fell open.

There was laughter in Jamie’s voice as he bent close to whisper, “What’s the matter, Duchess? ’Aven’t you ever seen an Italian Viking?”