"Miss Shaw," he said, beaming at her. "You look like a dream."

"I feel like Holiday Barbie," she murmured to him, making him laugh. "But thank you." She noticed the white feathers embroidered down the length of one of his sleeves to make it appear more like a bird's wing. "Are you the Swan Prince?"

"You are very perceptive." He offered her his arm. "Come, let me introduce you to my friends. I have been bragging about how lovely the neighborhood is; you will be proof of it."

Jema glanced over at her mother and Daniel, but they were already moving into the room and greeting the other guests.

"I don't see anyone I know," she said as she took his arm, "so you may end up introducing me to everyone."

He gave her a rather mysterious smile. "I live for nothing else, my lady."

Jaus was the perfect host, and made the rounds of the room with ease. Jema found his friends to be very polite, if somewhat formal, and noticed that, like the man who had spoken to her outside, most had accents similar to Valentin's.

"Are most of your friends from Austria, like you?" she asked after meeting a tall, fair-haired man dressed like the composer of some grand orchestra of the past. The composer had actually clicked his heels while bowing to her.

"They are from Austria, Germany, and Switzerland," he said. "A few misfits from Spain and France. We are a very European group, I fear, Miss Shaw."

"I love their costumes." She had noticed a certain uniformity among them, as if everyone had rented their gowns to date to a specific time period. "You know, if you sent everyone in this room back in time to the fourteenth century, they'd be right at home."

"Indeed." He gave her a worried look. "Why do you say that?"

"Just look at them." She gestured at the other guests. "Don't you think they look like one of those marvelous medieval paintings brought to life?"

He chuckled. "I fear we are an old-fashioned group as well."

"Very polite, too." Jema noticed that no one had yet touched a single crumb on the beautiful buffet table or filled a flute at the enormous champagne fountain set up in the center of the room.

Jaus noticed her interest and asked if she wished some refreshments, but Jema felt too self-conscious to eat or drink when no one else was. "I really don't drink much," she told him as he guided her through an open doorway into a ballroom. "I don't tolerate alcohol too well."

"Nor do I," Jaus said. "I do miss going out to taste the first new wines of the year. It is a tradition in my homeland to do so."

Guests stood on either side, but no one was dancing yet. There were so many candles burning in the wall sconces and the three crystal chandeliers that Jema imagined she could feel the heat of them on her face.

"I hope your smoke alarms aren't too sensitive," Jema said.

Jaus lifted a hand, and a small orchestra set up in one corner began tuning up their instruments. He turned and bowed to her. "Would you honor me with the first dance of the night, my lady?"

He wanted to dance with her? First? "Oh." She looked down at his boots, which had a glassy polish to them. "You don't have sensitive toes, do you? I haven't danced in years."

Instead of replying, he led her out onto the floor and, as a waltz began to play, took her in his arms.

"Mr. Jaus," she whispered as he moved her into the first steps. "No one else is dancing."

"They are shy," he whispered back. "We will show them how it is done, ja?"

Jaus proved to be a wonderful dancer, and whirled Jema around the floor effortlessly. She grew breathless from the quick turns, and laughed at herself when she missed a step now and then. She managed not to step on his boots. By the middle of the waltz other guests were finally joining them, and she didn't feel quite so on display.

Everyone was still watching them, though. Everywhere Jema looked, a pair of eyes returned her gaze. That was when she realized that she, not Jaus, was attracting all the attention. As if she had come to the party in a ship from another planet.

"Is there some dirt on my face?" she asked Jaus after being subjected to another, thorough study by an older man and woman dressed in the gold-and-white costumes of French aristocrats.

Jaus regarded her. "Not a speck. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Obviously all these people knew each other, but they didn't know her, so they were curious. That had to be the reason she was getting so much attention.

"You have lied to me," Jaus said as he kept her dancing in the center of the floor, where they remained the center of attention. "You are an excellent dancer. You must have practiced for years in secret."

She grinned. "You caught me. I sneak out to ballrooms five, six nights a week."

"You must permit me to escort you one night." He pulled her a little closer during the next turn. He smelled of camellias, but then, he worked in his gardens so often he almost always did. "I get so tired of watching the History Channel. I feel as if I know the script for every program."

"You should try the Sci-Fi Channel. They have some great miniseries, like the Children of Dune. I loved that one." Jema didn't watch much television, so she groped for another topic. "Did your friends expect you to bring one of your girlfriends tonight?"

"I will tell you a secret," he said, leaning closer, his hand moving to the small of her back. "I have no girlfriends. I am all alone in the world, Miss Shaw."

"Oh." Jema wondered if all the women in Chicago had suddenly gone blind. Then a reason for so many different women in his life occurred to her. "You're not gay, are you?"

"I am feeling quite happy." He caught her expression. "Gay… ah, you mean it as a lover of other men. No, I am not."

"Thank heavens. I mean, not that it would be terrible if you were, just a terrible waste." She groaned. "Please step on my toes anytime now."

"It is difficult to guess what impression you make upon another person," he said softly. "I am not offended." He lifted his hand and brushed a piece of hair from her cheek, and then rested his hand against the side of her neck. "I would very much like to know your opinion of me."

She didn't want to hurt his feelings, but she felt a strange compulsion rising inside her—as if there were nothing more important now than to be completely honest with him. The next thing she knew, the truth was coming out of her mouth. "You're very handsome, of course, and in great shape. You're one of the nicest men I know. I don't know anyone who grows such beautiful flowers as you do."

"I see." He stared past her face and moved his hand back to the side of her waist.

"You know, if you're not dating anyone, maybe I could introduce you to someone I know." She thought of Sophie Tucker, who was a gorgeous redhead. She is also five-foot-ten. "Do you like tall women, or are you uncomfortable with that?"

Jaus muttered something in his native language as the musicians ended the waltz, and took her firmly by the hand. "I thank you for the dance, Miss Shaw. Would you excuse me, please?"

Worried that her suggestion had been insulting, Jema followed him off the dance floor. His guests stepped out of his way, but crowded in to speak to her.

"Guten abend, fraulein." A man dressed as a hunter bowed. The silver fox fur collar of his cloak matched the wintry color of his narrow eyes and short-trimmed hair.

"How are you?" Jema said, smiling as she eased past his quiver, which was filled with realistic-looking arrows.

A slim Latin man in a matador's costume caught her arm. "You dance divinely, Senorita Shaw. May I have the next?"

"Thank you, but I'm not dancing right now," she said awkwardly. How did he know her name? "I have to catch up with Mr. Jaus."

That seemed to have a magical effect on the people around her, who then parted as quickly and silently as they had for their host. Jema smiled again and hurried out to the front room, but by that time Jaus had disappeared.

In the front room the guests were talking and mixing, some in groups as large as ten to twelve. Five different languages buzzed around Jema as she stood looking around for the deep blue of Jaus's costume. Strange that she and her host were the only ones wearing blue tonight, but at least she stood out in the crowd.

Is Thierry here? She took off her mask, drawing more stares, but at least with her face exposed he would recognize her. I wonder if I should tell Mr. Jaus that I invited him to come. She turned to a heavyset man dressed in a burgher's costume. "Have you seen a tall, dark Frenchman come in? He would have been looking around; we were supposed to meet here."

"Ich verstehe nicht," the man said, regret obvious in his tone. "Es tut mir leid."

Jema repeated the question, only to discover that no one around her spoke English with any degree of fluency. Most of them would say only, "Freut mich," or, "ich verstehe nicht," as the first man had.

"I don't want to waltz," a familiar woman's voice said somewhere nearby. It was easy to pick up her words because she was the only person speaking in English. "I don't know how to say that in German. I mean it. Hands off, Hans; I'm taken. You—yes, Princess Buttercup, I'm talking to you—you speak any English? Wonderful. Where the hell is Val?"

Jema looked around, trying to fathom which woman was Alexandra Keller. The problem was that every other woman was a petite, dark-haired beauty in a mask that completely disguised her face.

"Alexandra?" she called out, as loudly as she dared, but there was no answer, and she didn't hear Alex's voice again.

The only person at the party dressed in a doctor's costume—something Alexandra might have worn—appeared to be Daniel. His white lab coat made him easy enough to spot, but he and her mother went out of the room and disappeared down a corridor before Jema could catch up to them.