Page 66 of Under a Dancing Star

“And Ben, of course,” Hero adds fairly. “He’s handsome too.”

“He certainly thinks so.” I laugh.

“I think we’ve already established how handsome you find me, Miss Beatrice Langton of the Northumberland Langtons,” Ben’s voice chimes in, his tone containing an edge of mockery, and he drops into the chair on the other side of Hero, pouring himself a glass of wine and knocking it back in one swift draught.

“Arrogance is not at all attractive, Benedick,” I reply primly.

“You might be handsome, Ben,” Hero says slyly, “but I think my cousin is the most beautiful girl here tonight. Don’t you?”

“I know I do,” a voice with a heavy Italian accent pipes up, and a polished-looking man in his late twenties bows his head. “Would you do me the honour, signora?” He holds out his hand, but before I can reply Ben is on his feet.

“I’m stealing her away, I’m afraid,” he says, and with that he practically hauls me out of my chair and off away from the crowd. I can hear Hero’s stifled laughter.

“That was very rude,” I say.

“That man is a notorious womanizer,” Ben replies. “I was being protective. Chivalrous.”

“Oh yes, chivalry, I’m sure that’s what it was. Wouldn’t want to spend time with handsome, notorious womanizers,” I scoff. “They are truly awful. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you.”

“I know you are; I was trying to protect him from receiving a black eye.”

“Honestly, you accidentally punch someone in the face, just once, and you never hear the end of it,” I complain. “And you barely even had a bruise.”

I look over to where Klaus is once again in conversation with the handsome musician, their heads close together. Something invisible crackling between them.

“I know you said that Klaus was flirting with me before,” I say carefully, “but I wonder if he might not be more interested in your company than mine.”

A flash of surprise appears in Ben’s eyes. “So you know about that, do you?”

“I’ve been making some observations,” I concede.

“Well, as it goes,” Ben says, “I’m not Klaus’s type.”

“Mmmm,” I murmur in agreement. “Not like the violinist over there.”

“You are observant…” Ben smiles. “But you should know that Klaus’s interest in the violinist does not preclude him from being interested in you.”

“Oh really?” I say. “He’s attracted to men and women? How interesting.”

‘“Anyway, enough about Klaus,” he says, tugging at my hand. “I have something I want to show you.”’

“Are you just trying to get me into a dark corner?”

Ben gives me a long look. “Maybe later,” he says, pulling me further down the path into the garden. “I want you to see my work.”

“Oh!” I exclaim. “I would love that.” Hopefully I can manage something better than “nice” this time, I think.

The noise from the crowd recedes as we follow a path lined with candles. Ben leads me towards the fountain, where ropes hung with lanterns cast the space in a warm golden glow.

There, standing on three easels, are the most beautiful paintings I have ever seen. They are alive with swathes of bright colour, and though they are not faithful reproductions, it is easy for me to recognize them.

“Anisoptera,” I murmur, standing in front of a canvas of dazzling blues and greens and purples. “A dragonfly.” I turn to the next painting. “Gonepteryx cleopatra.” This canvas is all saffron, gold and cinnamon. “The Cleopatra butterfly.” And finally, “Upupa epops.” The hoopoe, the bird I longed to see the most, its striking black and white comb displayed in geometric shapes against coppery peach feathers. “I can’t believe you painted them.” Somehow Ben has captured the freedom of the creatures, their beauty and the way they move.

“I was thinking of you,” he says. He touches the painting of the dragonfly. “The first time you came here to the fountain.” He turns to the next canvas. “And our terrible first attempt at a romantic picnic.” He rests a hand on the final one. “The fountain again … after you pushed me in.”

“Those don’t seem like the happiest memories,” I murmur, still spellbound by the paintings in front of me.

“Oh, they were,” Ben says quietly. “They were with you.”