“No, he’s at home.” Petra broke off a piece of fish from the newspaper and popped it into her mouth, licking her fingers before selecting a fat chip. “If you want to talk to me you’ll have to come down here. I’m eating my lunch.”

“How disgusting,” Clothilde declared, cautiously stepping down to the beach. She was as always the picture of elegance in a dark blue suit, a pale blue ruffle–necked blouse beneath. Her high-heeled yellow kid shoes made no concessions to the terrain and the heels sank into the sand.

A bright-eyed seagull perched on the seawall, watching the newspaper in Petra’s hands, his clawed feet gripping the wall, his fierce beak opening and closing as he shrieked at her.

“I should take the shoes off, if I were you,” Petra suggested through a mouthful of fish. She wore flat, open-toed sandals herself, with a colorful patchwork skirt and ruffle-edged green waisted jacket. Perfectly appropriate clothing for an autumn day at the beach. She was beginning to enjoy this tête-à-tête, if it could be called that. Lady Delmont was at a disadvantage for the first time since Petra had laid eyes on her, and for once she was not intimidated by the other woman’s elegance. It was so out of place.

“Shoo it away,” Clothilde demanded, flapping a hand at the seagull with a shudder. “Dreadful creatures.” The gull merely rose on its toes, opened its large wingspan and shook its wings, emitting a shriek.

“It’ll only come back,” Petra said unhelpfully but with absolute truth. “Did you want to talk to me?” She stood up from her rock. Clothilde towered over her at the best of times, and remaining seated merely made it worse. “Let’s walk along the beach a little, the sand’s firmer where it’s damp.” She moved farther onto the beach toward the faint silver glimmer of sea on the horizon. After a moment Clothilde followed her, picking her way delicately. The seagull flew low over Petra’s head and in a moment was joined by two others angrily squabbling.

Petra continued to eat from her soggy newspaper, relishing each vinegary mouthful. “Well, go on, Lady Delmont, I’m listening,” she prompted.

Clothilde grabbed at her wide-brimmed hat as a breeze swept in from the sea. “You will not keep him, you know that,” she stated. “He finds you amusing at the moment. It’s the way he is with all his affaires de coeur but he always come back to me in the end.”

“I don’t believe he’s ever married one of his lovers before,” Petra pointed out mildly.