Devil's Embrace (25 page)

She looked up at him, her lips tightened. “So I am to pay the piper for my boat. You have planned this quite nicely, my lord. I hope you do not expect me to thank you for your deviousness.”

“Surely it is not so much to ask, Cassandra.”

“You are a villain, my lord.” She hunched her shoulder at him, gathered up her sodden skirt, and walked toward the gardens.

During the next few days, Joseph wondered if he would spend the remainder of his days guarding his master’s English lady, so sharp was her tongue around the earl. He knew it was only a matter of time before she approached him to help her escape. She did so on a lazy afternoon when they were fishing aboard her sloop in the middle of the lake.

“The fall months in England are beautiful,” she began, her voice soft with sadness.

“The fall months are beautiful most everywhere, madonna, save of course in northern Africa.” Joseph maintained a stoic countenance, knowing what was to come.

“But I am English,” she said, her voice sharp now, “and to me, there is nothing to compare to the crisp, cool air and the changing color of the leaves.” Her hands tightened around her fishing pole, and he sighed.

She laid a hand on his woolen sleeve. “Joseph, you know that I do not wish to be here, that I am naught but the earl’s prisoner. Will you not help me?” Cassie mistook his brooding silence for uncertainty. “There are ships, English ships, in the harbor. I saw them when we went to the city. I can get money, I know that I can. We could even arrange it so that the earl would believe that I struck you and escaped. You will see, he cannot blame you. Please help me—you must.”

Joseph raised a gnarled hand to her. “Madonna, why is it that you do not wish to wed the master?” She was not a fool, he knew, and the earl was of noble birth, titled and wealthy. Certainly, all the ladies he had observed appeared to find the earl most desirable, all the ladies save one.

“I have no wish to see my name inscribed in their precious
Golden Book,
and certainly not next to his. I will never wed him.”

“But why, madonna?”

“Your master, Joseph, kidnapped me the day before I
was to be wed. He feigned friendship not only with my brother, but also with my fiancé.”

So there was another man who held her heart, he thought. Of a certainty there had not been sufficient time for her to forget. “I suppose that many would see the captain’s actions as ruthless. But I think, madonna, that his going to such lengths is proof of his feeling for you.”

“You will not help me?”

“No, madonna.”

Cassie nodded dully, and the subject was closed between them. It came as something of a shock to her to realize she had come to hold Joseph in great affection. He was unflaggingly patient, and never judged her even when her temper broke its bounds, merely regarding her in gentle silence, his brown eyes clear and untroubled beneath his bushy gray brows. Her temper had flared at him just the day before, because he had not allowed her to visit the harbor. She knew that he had acted on orders from the earl, but she could not contain herself. She wished now that she had not visited the city, though she had enjoyed seeing the shops, watching the flower girls weave bouquets of startling beauty, and drinking a cup of the thick Italian coffee underneath a sidewalk umbrella on the Via Balbi. Joseph had pointed out the Palazzo Reale, a magnificent structure, only one of many handsome palaces that lined the street, and had described its sumptuous rooms, the glowing colors of the tapestries and the pastel delicacy of the frescos.

There was a sudden tug on her fishing pole, and she turned from him abruptly. “Ah, a nibble,” She hauled in the line. She stole a glance at his profile from the corner of her eye as she thrust the still-wriggling trout into her basket. She had been unfair to him. “Joseph, please forgive me. I have acted like a beast to you.”

“Only at times,” he said calmly, turning to help her paddle back to shore. “But we will say no more about it, madonna.”

They worked the sail for some minutes in silence. Cassie said finally, “I know, Joseph, that you are Corsican. The earl has told me of the strife between Corsica and Genoa
until the Genoese ceded your island to the French. How is it that you consort with an enemy of your people?”

His leathery features took on a thoughtful expression.

“My loyalty is to his lordship, madonna, not to the wretched Genoese merchants who have tried for years to break the pride of my people.”

“Why does he merit such loyalty?”

“Ah, ’tis a long story and one that is not, I think, suitable for your innocent ears.”

“If you will not tell me, Joseph, then I shall simply have to ask the earl.”

The petulance in her voice amused him. “That is your prerogative, madonna. As for his lordship”—he shrugged—“it will also be his prerogative to choose to tell you about it.”

She frowned at him, but said no more. They secured the sloop at the dock and walked back to the villa.

She left Joseph at the front gates with the boy, Sordello, who openly worshiped the older man, and made her way to the gardens.

C
assie sat before her dressing table, clad in her petticoats and wrapper. Rosina stood behind her, powder box in hand, on the point of sprinkling her golden hair when the earl’s voice stopped her.

“No, Rosina,” he said, walking with negligent grace to stand behind Cassie. “I do not wish for you to powder your mistress’s hair. A classical style, I think, but no white powder to hide her natural color.”

Cassie, who had herself been looking balefully at the powder box, turned in her chair and said sharply, in English, “Do you wish to direct everything that I do, my lord? Must you even interrupt me with orders whilst I am dressing?”

He allowed a black brow to wing upward in surprise. “I happen to know,
cara,
that you have no liking for the powder box. I thought you instructed Rosina to apply it simply because you believed it would please me.”

Cassie did not bother to respond, for she had turned around in her chair, and was distracted by the sight of him. He looked resplendent in his rich black velvet evening clothes. Layers of frothy white lace fell from his throat and wrists, and his black hair was powdered white as his lace and pulled back at the nape of his neck, held with a black velvet ribbon. Even to her jaundiced eye, he looked like a king.

“I am delighted that you approve my appearance, Cassandra.”

“You are passable, I suppose,” she said, and turned back to her mirror.

He seated himself near her, crossing one elegant leg over
the other, and watched Rosina deftly style her hair into a braided coronet atop her head, through which she drew out a long thick tress. When at last Cassie was dressed in a low, square-necked lavender silk gown, he rose gracefully and drew a long, flat box from his waistcoat pocket.

“You may leave now, Rosina,” he said to the maid. “I shall complete your mistress’s toilette.”

“What do you mean, my lord?” Cassie asked warily after her maid had left the bedchamber. He answered her by withdrawing a long rope of pearls, lustrous and exquisitely matched. Before she could respond, he doubled the string of pearls and fastened the clasp at the back of her neck.

She stared at her image in the mirror for a long moment, and drew a resolute breath, her fingers touching the clasp. “They are lovely, my lord, but I must refuse them. I will not be bought.”

He said lightly, his hand closing over her fingers, “Nay,
cara,
they are not for you to refuse, for I have not offered them to you. I do not seek to buy you, simply to enhance your beauty. You will, of course, return them to me at the close of the evening.”

“I would rather wear nothing.”

“The gentlemen present this evening would be much pleased, I doubt not. However, I would prefer to have them only guess at what lies beneath your gown.”

“You wretched man, that is not what I meant, and well you know it.”

“Guilty,” he said with a quick smile. “I do apologize for teasing you, Cassandra. Would you do me the great honor of wearing the pearls, just for this evening?”

She regarded him suspiciously for several moments, but as the expression on his face remained serious, and indeed, he appeared to be contrite, she slowly nodded. “Very well, but only for tonight.” She added with ill-concealed bitterness, “I suppose that if I must be put on display, it is only fitting that I look the part of the expensive harlot.”

His thick black brows drew together. “I have told you, Cassandra, that it is not you on display this evening. My friends are here for your inspection. I would not hold this dinner party if I thought you would be slighted.”

“No, I do not suppose that you would.” She sighed. “It would make no sense. However, you will admit that my perceived position at the Villa Parese is not enviable.”

“And you will keep your promise?”

“You mean that I am not to stand upon the dinner table and shout to your guests that I am your prisoner?”

“Precisely.”

“Is it time to go downstairs, my lord?” As he made no reply, she added lightly, “You have more promises to wring out of me? Take care, my lord, it was but one sailboat that you gave me.”

He smiled and shook his head. “No, little one, no more promises. There is, however, something I should tell you. One of our guests this evening will be the Contessa Giovanna Giusti. I did not particularly wish to invite her, but Signore Montalto, a close friend and business associate, is much enamored of her and very much wanted her company.”

“Are you concerned that I will be rude to the contessa?”

“It is not your propriety that concerns me. If you would know the truth, the contessa was once my mistress. I of course broke off our affair before I left for England.”

“Your mistress?”

The earl smiled, clasped her arms in his hands, and dropped a light kiss upon her closed lips. “Yes, but she needn’t concern you. I only tell you to give you fair warning that Giovanna might not be all that is pleasant.”

“Thank you, my lord, for the warning.” Her voice was clipped and flat, and he wondered what the devil she was thinking. He drew her hand through his arm and escorted her from the bedchamber. To lighten her mood, he said, “Caesare will of course be here. You will, I trust, enjoy his company.”

“Of a certainty I shall, my lord,” she said, but her voice was cold.

He continued in a gently teasing voice, “To keep you at ease and help you to remember your promise, I will contrive to stay at your side throughout the evening.”

“That, I daresay, is wise of you.”

There was laughter in her voice, and he relaxed. As he
walked beside her down the wide stairway, he looked down at the creamy pearls about her throat. The pearls had belonged first to his grandmother, then to his mother. They were bride’s pearls, the only jewelry allowed to a young lady before and during her first year of marriage.

Once downstairs, the earl nodded in satisfaction to Scargill, who was dressed in butler’s wear, and surrounded by three young male servants hired for the evening.

“Don’t look so pained, Scargill,” the earl said. “All of us must occasionally make sacrifices.” At Scargill’s grunt, he added with a wide smile, “Just ensure that your men keep the wine flowing, and your success is assured.”

Cassie gazed about her with pleasure. Fresh flowers overflowed from vases that lined the walls of the wide entrance hall, and branches of candles had been added, making the villa as dazzling bright as if it were day.

The knocker sounded loudly, and Scargill motioned one of the footmen to the door.

“It would appear, my lord, that you have approached this evening with quite a flair,” Cassie said behind her hand as the wide front doors swung open to admit Caesare.

“I hoped that you would approve,
cara.
Ah, my dear brother, you are a vision to behold.” He pumped Caesare’s outstretched hand.

“As ever, Antonio, it must be I to carry on the Parese tradition of elegance. Ah, but you are the vision, Cassandra, not I,” he said, his eyes resting a moment on the pearls. “Antonio, expect all the gentlemen tonight to yearn for your imminent demise.”

The earl laughed. “I trust that you will protect me, Caesare.”

“Nay, dear brother,” Caesare said, “I shall be the one to head the list.” He turned to Cassie. “You know, of course, that any party given by the earl is a topic of conversation days in advance.”

Cassie raised her eyes from his bright plum velvet evening wear to the frothy silver lace at his throat, and cocked her head to one side questioningly.

“What Caesare refers to, my dear,” the earl interposed,
“is my English predilection for providing an abundance of food.”

“But what has that to say to anything, my lord? Of course one would provide a splendid meal for one’s guests.”

Caesare grinned, and shook his head. “Surely the earl has told you of the famous Genoese thriftiness? It extends, alas, to providing the most niggardly of refreshments to guests. Genoese society, I am persuaded, forgives my brother his half-English blood for this vagary.”

Cassie was grinning reluctantly when the earl turned to greet the newly arrived Signore Montalto, a paunchy, heavy-jowled gentleman of middle years.

“Marcello,” the earl said smoothly, “this is Signorina Brougham, the young lady I mentioned to you.”

“Enchanted,
signorina,
” Signore Montalto said, bowing with some difficulty.

Cassie inclined her head and bid him welcome. His almond eyes flitted an unasked question toward the earl. As Cassie’s attention was drawn by Caesare to Signore and Signora Accorambonis, she did not see it.

“How delightful to meet you,
signorina,
” Signora Accorambonis said in a pleasant voice. “We so rarely have new faces in Genoa. I do hope that you enjoy our city.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Cassie said ambiguously, knowing the earl was listening. She was aware that Signora Accorambonis was scrutinizing her from beneath her heavy eyelids, and stiffened for an instant. But she could not fault the lady, for she could well imagine how a foreign lady, living unmarried with an English gentleman, would be treated by the English aristocracy.