When he bent to kiss Genevieve’s hand, she almost felt the tip of his tongue against her knuckles. Almost.

“Have we met before?” she asked as he straightened.

“We have indeed.”

She frowned. He was raising Lulu’s hand to his mouth. Complimenting her singing. He was too thin to be conventionally handsome, but was attractive all the same. One of those men who make themselves more attractive by dressing cleverly and by flirting. Yes, very flirtatious. Even as he was talking to Lulu, Genevieve saw his gaze flick across to her. He gave another of those almost-smiles and looked her up and down. Blatant. Impudent.

“It’s strange,” she said, after a moment. “I know we’ve met, but I can’t recall the exact occasion.”

“Can’t you?” He turned to Violet and whispered something in her ear. Something that made her laugh out loud.

Genevieve felt herself blush. But why should she be embarrassed?

Now he bent to whisper to her, his mouth close. “Am I so forgettable?” And his lips actually brushed against her ear.

“Of course not!” The words came out too loud, but the countess seemed not to have heard. She was deep in conversation with Lulu. And as Genevieve lowered her voice, words started coming out of her mouth. Words that she hadn’t meant to say. “I’ve heard all about you” came the words.

“What have you heard?”

“That you choose your clients like you’d select a piece of fruit, just because you like the look of their feet. That you only make shoes for twenty women. That once a woman has worn a pair of Zachari’s shoes, nobody else’s will do.”

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a very talked-about man, Mr. Zachari. Some people say you’re from Italy. From Calabria. Or maybe Naples. Other people say you’re from the East Indies. Or else that you’re an East Indian from Calabria. Or a Neapolitan from the East Indies. I’ve heard so many stories about you.”

“My, my. All those rumors.” Zachari shook his head sadly. “I know a little about you too, Mrs. Shelby King.”

“What do you know?”

Again he bent to whisper in her ear, and she felt his breath hot against her neck.

“That man, Zachari.” Genevieve leaned against a marble pillar while the room began gently to turn.

Lulu shoved a canapé into her mouth. “What about him?”

“What do you think of him?”

“Dark horse. Perhaps a little too deliberately so. He likes to handpick his clients, I gather. Obviously enjoys the exclusivity. I’m suspicious of his criteria.”

“I can’t believe he makes shoes for Violet de Frémont,” said Genevieve. “And not for me.”

Zachari and the Countess de Frémont were dancing together. He held her close, his hands planted firmly on her back.

“I’ve heard he’s sleeping with her,” said Lulu.