The River of No Return

the night before and speculated on how much fun he was having in what she relished calling “the fleshpots of London.”
    “Enough,” Clare finally snapped as the three young women were walking to Hatchards, Solvig ahead of them on a leather lead, two footmen trailing behind. “Nick is not a libertine, Bella. We must all be eternally grateful that you are not a man, for you would clearly rake the coals of hell and fan the flames of vice from one end of the year to the other.”
    “Indeed I would.” Bella stroked the dog’s head. “Solvig could be my devilish hound, couldn’t you?”
    The enormous creature looked up at the sound of her name. As the days had passed, Solvig had revealed herself to be entirely craven, going so far as to run from a mouse in the kitchen and try to hide under the cook’s skirts, a misadventure that had resulted in her permanent banishment from below stairs.
    “Besides,” Bella said, “I learned all about Nick’s recent activities when Mother and I were at Almack’s last night. He has been cutting quite the swathe through the town, if the gossips are to be believed. Julia, it is so unfortunate that you cannot come to balls when you are in mourning. You are missing all the diversion.”
    Julia indulged herself in a moment of self-pity. It was true. Clare stayed home with her most evenings, but Bella and her mother were out at balls and routs and masquerades night after night. Bella always came home bursting with some thrilling tale of intrigue or some hint of scandal that she’d heard from the gossips. For the last few days these had mostly involved Nick, blast him. “Maybe next year,” Julia said.
    “Yes. As I have not met a single gentleman I can imagine marrying, I shall have to come back next year, too. It will be delightful.” Bella linked her arm with Julia’s.
    “What did you learn about Nick last night?” Julia tried to sound nonchalant, but Bella laughed.
    “Good show, Julia. But you can’t hide from us. We know you are breaking your heart over him, don’t we, Clare?”
    “Arabella!” Clare spoke sharply.
    “Oh. It is serious.” Bella waggled her eyebrows at Julia.“Is Nick the apple?”
    “Please,” Julia said. “Just hold your tongue.”
    “Even though I heard the most delicious gossip about him last night? May I tell, if we all agree not to believe it?”
    Clare rolled her eyes. “You will tell us with or without our permission, Bella, so get on with it.”
    “Well.” She took Clare’s and Julia’s arms and pulled them close on either side. “Let us take up the entire pavement and I shall tell you.” She led her sister and her friend by the elbows. “Apparently Nick has been seen everywhere in the company of the most ravishing cyprian. Rumor has it that he has been publicly lavishing attention on her in all the gaming halls. She is elegantly tall, and blonde, with eyes the most magical shade of violet, and it is said he has given her an amethyst necklace that exactly matches them. . . .”
    Clare frowned. “We shall stop discussing this foolishness this minute. Not another word. We are at Hatchards.” She handed Solvig’s lead to a footman and swept into the bookseller’s.
    Bella followed her sister, but not before winking broadly at Julia.
    And so one of the moments Julia had looked forward to her entire life was destroyed. She had always thought of Hatchards with reverent delight and looked forward to the day that she would be able to peruse its shelves and choose her own reading materials. And now, instead of reveling in the scent of leather and paper and ink, she felt like wringing Bella’s neck with one hand and Nick’s with the other. She was the Talisman. She could manipulate time. Count Lebedev was out to kill her. But instead of making any headway on these very real problems, she was standing in a bookshop, teetering on the verge of tears, thinking about her swain kissing another shepherdess. A blonde shepherdess dripping with amethysts.
    Bella pulled on her sleeve. She looked contrite, to the extent that a pitchfork-wielding devil can look contrite. “You are scowling,” she said. “I’m terribly sorry if I caused you distress.”
    Julia thinned her lips and said nothing. Instead she stared at the rows of books and the men and women who stood about, looking into them, not talking to one other. Two dozen people in two dozen different worlds. Worlds of knowledge, beauty, romance, discovery.
    “Let me take you to