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“I say it because it’s true.” Something fleeting but intense moved over the duchess’s face, and Manuela leaned closer. “And given the way you’ve run circles around me at every opportunity, the last thing I’d call you is fragile, princesa.”

The air around them sizzled, as she considered the damage attempting to kiss Cora would cause. Reasonable things floated around her head but none seem to keep her from rising on her tiptoes. It would be quick, just a brush of the lips. Just a taste, a nibble...

“Cora’s here!” A door crashed open, sending a dazed Manuela hurtling back right into a pretty, plump woman with skin the color of nutmeg and a very shrewd smile. “You must be Manuela!” she cried out, as she ushered them inside. She was dressed in a tea gown, in a lovely royal blue with delicate teal and purple embroidery on the cuffs, collar and hem. She had a few strands of very dark, tightly coiled curls hanging around her face and a smile that could lift even the most morose of spirits.

“Cassie, this is Miss Manuela Caceres Galvan.”

“Miss Aguzzi Durocher.” Manuela attempted a bow, but Cassandra instantly pulled her into an embrace.

“Por favor, llámame Cassie,” she requested in impressive Spanish, before kissing Manuela warmly on each cheek. “I’m so happy you came. The duchess assured me she would not be here tonight.” She sent a reproachful look in her friend’s direction but quickly tempered it by leaning in to kiss Cora on the cheek too. For a couple of seconds the two women engaged in a silent conversation with a series of looks, to Manuela’s amusement. Cassie shot a raised eyebrow in her friend’s direction, which Cora answered with a short shake of the head and very wide eyes. Cassie returned a slightly withering look in response but in the end seemed to relent, because in the next moment she turned her attention back to Manuela. She could not quite tell what had been said, but she’d done this with Luz Alana and Aurora enough times to know important information—probably about her—had been exchanged.

“Now, Cora tells me you’re a painter as well,” she said as they walked into a small parlor.

“I do paint, but this exposition is the first time I’ve had my work seen by the public,” she admitted, and Cassie made a sound of understanding. Just that small gesture loosened some of the knots she’d had in her stomach all afternoon. She would be among other artists tonight. There were voices coming from deeper inside the house, but their hostess didn’t seem in any rush to take them back there yet.

“It can be quite nerve-racking,” the Brazilian artist agreed. “I am very eager to see your work.” Manuela’s enthusiasm waned somewhat at that, but Cora quickly chimed in.

“Manuela’s work is exquisite.” She was so earnest in her efforts to ease Manuela’s embarrassment...and it did help. It more than helped, it made her feel shielded.

“Unfortunately my paintings ended up in an atticlike alcove,” she confessed, feeling less humiliated about it now that she had Cora as her defender. “And they misspelled my name. But Iamthere.”

Cassie shook her head, chagrined. “It is not easy starting out. But you’ve made it to a very important exhibition, and now it will be easier to be selected for other ones. And now you will have friends in us to guide you as you find your way.” It took a moment for Manuela to understand what she meant, then she shook her head with a laugh.

“Oh, I am not looking to be in more shows,” she said, even as she tried to suffuse her bubbling discomfort. “I’m going back to Venezuela to be married, and once I am, I won’t continue submitting my work for salons.”

Cora cleared her throat behind her, and without looking her way Manuela could sense the disapproval, or maybe it was her own feelings of embarrassment she was ascribing to the duchess’s reaction.

“Oh, I see.” Cassandra frowned, and for a moment she seemed like she wanted to say more but in the end only smiled and extended a hand to the closed doors in front of them. “Then, I suspect you may be a little bored this evening,” she said regretfully, pointing at the doors. “There are a half a dozen painters in there, and I’m afraid you will be subjected to a long discussion on the state of affairs for artists in Paris.”

“Oh, Iadoreconversingabout art,” Manuela rushed to say. “I am certain I’ll have a grand time.”

Cassandra grinned at Cora’s derisive expression. “Our talks are about craft, but also about the business of being a working artist, which may not be as diverting for you.”

“On the contrary, I am very curious,” Manuela told her honestly. “I’d never really heard it referred to in that way.” As far as Manuela knew, there were men who could live handsomely from commission work or with the support of patrons. Even with the advent of photography, portraits were still popular, but she’d never heard anyone talk about painting or any other craft as a profession.

“There are at least half as many physicians and a couple of architects and engineers here to boot. Every profession fueled by deluded self-regard, happily together in one room,” Cora added in feigned horror, but her usual undertone of annoyance was replaced by genuine affection. “Be prepared for a room full of people talking to you, at you and for you at once,” Cora groused, and Cassie laughed.

“It’s not that bad, but we can get a bit boisterous.”

Manuela suspected that the duchess was here because she enjoyed the conversation. Cora Kemp Bristol did not seem like the type of woman who spent an evening doing something she didn’t like.

Unless she’s being blackmailed.Manuela brushed aside that unwelcome message from her conscience and turned her attention to more urgent matters.

“Are they all...” She waved a finger between herself and Cora. The duchess rolled her eyes, then looked to Cassandra, who was watching them with that same curious intensity.

“Cassandra, Miss Caceres Galvan would like to know if you are hosting any sapphists this evening.”

The painter’s lips tipped up mischievously. “Did you teach her our secret sign?” Cassandra’s face was suddenly very serious, and Cora, who was perennially stoic, shook her head in a very weighty fashion.

Secret sign?Manuela looked from one woman to the other, and for the life of her could not determine if they were being serious.

“I am disappointed in you, Corazón!”

Corazón?Who was Corazón? Manuela’s mind was already spinning, and she had yet to meet any other lesbians. “Is that your real name?” Manuela blurted out at the same time that Cora shouted, “Not again, Cassandra.”

“Your name is truly Corazón?” she asked, fully diving into the deep waters of besottedness. Cora let out an unamused sigh as Manuela’s insides churned like lava. She had her head tipped up now, her attention solely on the duchess, whose pink cheeks confirmed to Manuela that she did indeed blush, and it was even more adorable than she could’ve imagined. Her face was so angular, her cheekbones, jaw and nose so sharp it gave the impression she was chiseled from marble, which made this flush of emotion that much more enticing. The icy duchess was undoubtedly appealing, but this flustered, very human woman was devastating.

“Yes.” Cora exhaled with extreme despondence, and Manuela could barely hold back a swoon. “My name is Corazón.”