“I think so,” said Lydia, busying herself with the toaster. “I’m sitting over there with Vanessa, if you want to join us.”
“Thanks. Last night went brilliantly, didn’t it?”
“Fantastic. They loved your Tales from the Vienna Woods.”
“Did you think so? I thought so.”
They made their way to the table, joining Vanessa.
“I believe the Czechs love music every bit as much as the Austrians,” said Mary-Ann optimistically. “We should have a full house for tomorrow’s concert.”
“Let’s hope our resident Czech is in a good mood,” remarked Vanessa pointedly. They all looked over at Milan, who wasn’t looking as full of the joys of spring as Mary-Ann.
Lydia inhaled sharply as Evgeny kicked back his chair and stormed out of the breakfast room.
“What is it with those two?” wondered Mary-Ann. “They seem to have a volatile relationship. I didn’t think Milan was gay.”
“He’s bisexual,” said Vanessa, her tone flat.
“Really?” Mary-Ann was all ears, leaning forward and speaking in a loud whisper. “So he and Evgeny…?”
“On and off,” said Vanessa. “Milan’s a busy man, if you know what I mean.”
“You don’t seem to like him much.”
“That’s because I used to like him a bit too much.”
“Oh, God, really? I don’t want to pry…”
“It’s okay. I’m over it. I was infatuated for a while, and he’s very good at playing on that kind of adoration. Until it gets too serious—then he gets bored and moves on. It’s just Milan. As long as you don’t want anything from him, you can have a good time with him.”
Lydia buttered her toast over and over, not daring to catch Vanessa’s eye. She didn’t want Mary-Ann knowing about her relationship with Milan, not now. Somehow she didn’t feel she could bear the other woman’s disappointment.
“A bit of a playboy, then?”
“Kinda. Isn’t he, Lyd?”
Lydia looked up sharply and shook her head, shrugging at the same time.
“I guess. He’s dated lots of semi-famous women, hasn’t he?”
“You know he has.”
“I don’t really care about that.” Lydia felt moved to defend him, although she risked exposure by Vanessa. “He’s been good to me. As the leader of the orchestra, I mean.”
Vanessa snorted.
“He encourages new talent. He cares about good musicianship—really cares. I know he’s a pain in the arse sometimes, but I like him.”
“Whatever,” said Vanessa, standing up and drinking the dregs of her orange juice. “I’m going to pack. See you on the coach.”
On the way up to her room, Lydia bumped into Evgeny, who was storming across the lobby with his suitcase.
“Evgeny! You’re a bit early… Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he snapped, wheeling his luggage across to the bar.
“It’s a bit early for…”