Lessons of Desire (23 page)

"Lord Elliot does not instruct me in that way. Aside from Marsilio's wound. I have nothing to apologize for either. I want to ask you about something else entirely." She removed the cameo from her pocket and set it on a table near the windows.

Sansoni’s eyebrows merged. He paced to the table and peered down at the cameo. "Alt, I understand your desire for privacy now. You do not want your husband to know you were duped into buying this forgery. I regret that I cannot help you on this matter. Nor have you given me any reason to spare you from Lord Elliot's wrath when he learns of your carelessness."

"You knew at once it was a forgery? How?"

"I have seen it before. Or rather, others like it. I know where they are made and how they are sold. I know the dealers who sell them as ancient to foreign dealers and to ignorant visitors like yourself. It has been going on for years."

"If you know so much, why don't you stop it?"

"The artisan who is at the heart of it has interesting information to offer me in trade for his freedom. It is worth my while to leave him and his network alone. Compared to protecting our monarch, what do I care if some foreigners buy false goods?"

"What is this man's name?"

He laughed.
"
Signora
,
I said he was useful to me. If it is known he traffics in such things he will have to leave the kingdom and he will no longer be useful.”

She picked up the cameo and looked at it. "Are there many of them?"

"You will not see the same cameo on the gowns of half of London's ladies. If there are too many, it would be suspicious, no? That is the normal downfall of such men. This one and his friends are smarter. A few cameos, a few pots—" He shrugged. "It is enough, but not too much. You understand?"

She understood. It would not do for forgers to let dozens of fakes into the art market too quickly. "Are they being made here in Naples?"

"I could not permit that. Our king is a lover of such things and would not like to know such activities occur tinder his nose."

In other words, the king did not know such activities occurred at all. Sansoni allowed the crimes to continue because it gave him a valuable informant. Or because he was being bribed.

"If they are not here, where are they?"

He sighed deeply.
"
Signora
,
you are too curious. Pretend it is real. No one in England will know."

"I am most curious because I am most vexed. I could confess my error to Lord Elliot, I suppose. He could ask his friends at the British legation to look into it. They could ask their friends at court about it.
They
could ask your superior—"

"
Basta
.
Capisco
,"
he snarled. "The artisans are scattered in remote hill towns to the south. I do not seek them for my reasons, as I said. Give me the dealer's name and I will tell him to return your money."

"No. I think that I will keep it. I have actually grown very fond of it."

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. His hand flicked in a gesture that she guessed was very rude. "You are a madwoman. I will be at the ship to make sure you leave on it and I will say a prayer of thanks when you do." He jerked a bow, and strode from the chamber.

Elliot strolled back in. "I see that you made him regret his visit. He was mumbling darkly the whole way out to the Chiaia."

"It appears that the interrogator does not care for being interrogated."

Elliot noticed the cameo in her hand. "You counted on him coming so you could ask him about that, didn't you? That was why you wrote to Marsilio."

"I expected Sansoni might know a thing or two about these forgeries. He seems to know everything else."

"Did you learn what you wanted?"

"He did not hand me the answers on a plate. He did not name names, either. I have learned all that I can here in Italy, and it is not enough." She tucked the cameo into her pocket. "And you, Elliot. Did you learn what you wanted yesterday when you met with Mr. Merriweather?"

His pause before responding acknowledged that they both had avoided speaking about that meeting. She hoped it was because he did not want to ruin their last days in Italy with any references to memoirs.

"I learned things I did not know about. I learned that you had tried to see him before the unfortunate incident with Marsilio."

He had deflected her real question. She feared that meant he had not learned what he wanted at all.

She had counted on him bringing Merriweather back to the villa so they could be done with that. Since he had not, and since he now avoided the topic, it appeared Merriweather had supported her father's description of that long-ago dinner.

Her disappointment immobilized her. She had suspected as much yesterday but she had still hoped. Last night, in the depths of her anger and dark honesty, she had known how it would be, however. Maybe Elliot's total retreat into his work was a way of avoiding the entire subject and its implications.

"Why did you want to see Merriweather, Phaedra?"

"For the same reason you did, Elliot."

"So I was right. You did intend to annotate and add names."

"No. I hoped to learn that passage was false. I sought an excuse to remove it, to spare Alexia. She is one of my dearest friends and more loyal than any other that I have known. If I could obtain the proof that my father was in error, then Alexia would not have to live with the gossip and the scandal."

He did not move. She wished he would. She wished he would embrace her in all the sweetness she had felt this morning. And if he asked her this one favor, she would—what?

She wished she had never seen those memoirs. She wished at least that her father had not extracted promises from her. She even half-wished, God help her, that she had not received the summons to his deathbed.

Every word is true. There is no slander or libel in it.

Promise you will change nothing
.
She had hoped he had been wrong and that one part might not be true. Then it could be excised from her promise and from the text itself.

It appeared not.

She could not bear the silence while Elliot stood there, gazing at nothing in particular, so close but also oddly distant. He looked so right here today. His demeanor and presence were more appropriate to this grand salon than the luxurious furnishings were.

"You are not going to ask it of me, are you?"

Her question did not surprise him at all. He knew what she meant. It was in the air, after all.

"If I do you will think that every kiss I gave you, and every touch, was a calculated step toward this moment"

His image blurred. Her eyes stung. "I might not. I might be glad to have an excuse not to hurt Alexia. I might weigh it all and decide it is not so significant. I might—"

He pulled her into his arms and silenced her with a gentle kiss. "You might do all those things, but you will never believe any of it. Hush now. Leave all this for another day. The voyage home is a long one and our duties do not claim us yet."

She let his kisses seduce her away from her sadness. She rested her head on his shoulder much as she had in the morning. Being supported like this, enclosed by his warmth and strength, was the best part of this affair. She felt no danger or worry in such moments, but only the most soothing peace.

Even this morning his embrace had salved the pain and calmed the confusion. The night had left her torn apart, feeling a fool for becoming her mothers acolyte, for sacrificing so much for empty beliefs. He could have pressed his advantage then in so many ways. Instead he had helped collect the pieces and put them back together.

He nuzzled her hair and placed a kiss on her crown. "What was the other reason you called on Merriweather? You said there was another besides the memoirs."

"I had hoped he could introduce me to some people in The English community here."

"He should have received you. He should not have left you to fend for yourself."

"As it turned out the inconvenience was a small one."

She kissed his cheek to encourage him to leave all this for another day too. She was too happy now lo talk about any of it. He would be reminded soon enough why the daughter of Artemis Blair was not received and always fended for herself.

London
in September was as empty as Naples in July. It was not a month when polite society crowded the shops on Oxford Street or filled the parks during the fashionable hour.

Easterbrook's house had not been closed, however. Elliot found it fully staffed when he arrived from Southampton. The servants explained that his Aunt Henrietta and Cousin Caroline had reheated to Easter-brook's country estate of Aylesbury, but that the marquess remained here in the city.

Elliot assumed that his brother was reveling in his isolation after having rid himself of the females. It might be days before he even saw Christian.

He re-accustomed himself to the house and to the services of a valet who anticipated every need. He had been gone long enough for his old life to feel unreal and foreign. He tried to find contentment within the spaces and routines known since childhood.

Instead his thoughts dwelled on Phaedra. There had been joy at the beginning of their voyage, but a mood akin to desperation at the end. The last week his desire had been hard and drenched with a fury. He could not get enough of her and he had thrown discretion to the winds as a result.

Despite their fevered pleasure, nothing had been settled. They never again spoke of Richard Dairy's memoirs after that afternoon in Naples. Nor had he received any promises from her about the passion itself. No declarations of fidelity. No agreement to continue as lovers. Not even suggestions that they be friends.

He had left her alone in her solitary independence in her small, odd house near Algae. He had ridden off in the carriage not even certain that she wanted him to return.

He poured some brandy and carried it up to his apartment. He unpacked his papers and sat down at his desk in his sitting room.

He had begun closing the door of his mind to life's vagaries when a servant arrived, pushing it open again.

"The marquess requests that you join him for dinner this evening, sir."

He was tempted to decline. The conversation that his brother sought could not be avoided forever, but he had counted on Christian's own distractions, whatever they may be, to delay it.

"Tell him that I will be there."

"You said that you were coming down to dinner."

The voice shocked Elliot alert. It was very close to his ear. So was a face. Christian hovered, peering down at the papers on the desk.

Elliot fished for his pocket watch.

"Do not bother. It is well past ten." Christian reached over his shoulder and turned a page. "This really won't do, Elliot. It is bad enough that Hayden gets strange al times, but at least that new wife of his will probably cure him of it. If you have now taken to such eccentricity—" He glanced down sharply "Why are you laughing?"

"I find it amusing for you to describe Hayden as strange or eccentric."

"You do not find his behavior with those mathematical studies strange? Last spring he sank into an unhealthy, hermetic existence, and it was not the first time either"

"He is no more strange than you are, and I doubt I will ever be half so."

"If you have not gotten strange then you have become rude. I expected you in the dining room. I even dressed."

Indeed he had, if his open collar and brushed long hair could be called dressed. Still, he did not wear a robe and his feet were not bare.

Christian strolled away. He threw himself into an upholstered reading chair and pointed to a nearby table. "I brought up a plate and some wine. I feared the voyage had taken a loll and you needed decent food. Instead I do not find you too wasted to attend on me, but too busy."

Elliot got up and brought the plate and glass back to his desk. "You are looking fit and healthy. Christian. Not so thin as when I left."

Christian stretched out his legs and crossed his boots. "I have been engaging in athletics. Boxing and rowing and such. I fence three times a week. It is all a nuisance but there is no choice."

Elliot tasted some of the capon. Easterbrook's cook was a fine one and this fowl swam in a redolent sauce. It smelled heavenly compared to the meals at sea. "What compels you now when nothing did just months ago?"

Christian got up again and nosed around the bookshelves. He found the cigars and helped himself to one. "I expect to fight a duel soon. It is best to be in military form for that."

Christian appeared the image of bland contentment while he lit the cigar. He might have just announced that he was boxing and fencing to prepare for a night at the theater.

"Whom have you offended so much that he will be calling you out?"

"I expect to make the challenge, not pick up another man's gauntlet." He lazily waved his cigar. "Our young cousin Caroline is being wooed by Suttonly, whom Hayden has broken with for reasons I do not know. Need I say more?"

"Yes."

"Her first season went to her head. Aunt Henrietta only encouraged her. Now they allow Suttonly to continue his addresses after Hayden tried to crush the budding romance with his boot. Hayden has informed Aunt Hen that if Caroline marries Suttonly, the door to this house and her welcome in this family will be over." He took a deep puff. "Bold of our brother, since it is my house and my welcome. However, he subdued Aunt Hen so thoroughly that I did not care to point that out."

"Christian, I suspect that you have spoken to no human being since the family went down to Aylesbury. Your lengthy explication suggests that you are newly fascinated with your own voice"

"I am recounting the family news. You are too impatient"

"Could you get back lo the duel?"

"Hayden warned Suttonly off. Caroline cried for days. Aunt Hen and Alexia took her down to the country to recover. And Suttonly has now left town. It is obvious what will happen."

The only thing obvious lo Elliot was that Christian had not talked this much in the last eight months combined. "Pray, spell it out."

"
Viscount Suttonly will not cease his pursuit. It is a matter of pride now. He will convince her to elope. Hayden will follow and catch them before they marry but the deed, as it were, will have been done. Hayden will not move from his rejection of Suttonly. Aunt Hen will have the vapors, Caroline will be ruined; and
I will be calling Suttonly out."

"Why wouldn't Hayden be the one to call him out? Hayden is trustee and guardian."

"I could not permit that. If he got himself killed, Alexia would be left a widow with an unborn babe."

"Alexia is with child?"

"That is the other news." He relaxed into the chair again. He tapped some ash off his cigar. Quite suddenly he ceased being the companionable brother and became Easterbrook, very completely. "Now, we are done with that. Tell me about your journey."

Elliot ate more of the capon. He chewed a good long while. He drank down the wine. Christian's lids lowered a bit more with each gastronomic delay.

"I found Miss Blair at the address that Alexia had provided."

"Did she have the memoirs with her?"

"No, but she does possess them. We were correct about that."

"What is this going to cost me?"

"Regrettably, she would not take our payment."

The companionable mirth that Christian had brought into the chamber disappeared. "How much did you offer?"

"I was not specific. She was insulted by the mere suggestion."

"Everyone is insulted by the mere suggestion. That is why you do not merely suggest. You name an amount. A big one. Then they do not have time to get insulted because they are so busy calculating what they can buy with the plunder."

"No amount would have moved her. She promised her father on his deathbed to publish his words. She will not be swayed from that duty now."

Christian dismissed Phaedra's duty with another flick of the ash. "Then we must do it another way. Where is the manuscript?"

"She did not have it with her, so I assume it is here in London somewhere."

"It should not be too hard to find. She owns little property. It must be in her home or else with a third party, a friend or her solicitor." He pondered the problem. "When does she intend to return home? How much time do we have?"

Elliot considered lying. "She is back. She sailed on the same ship that I did."

Christian's attention froze on the burning glow of his cigar. Then it shifted sharply to Elliot. It was the gaze of a hawk who sees the details on the ground far below very well.

He stood. "You did your best, I am sure. However, I will deal with this now."

Elliot stood as well. "No, you will not. You will stay away from her. You will do nothing to coerce her."

Christian examined him again. Searching. Wondering. Finally, knowing.

"Hell. She seduced you."

"No." And she hadn't. Not really. "It was not like that."

"However it was, whatever it was, she disarmed you. While you enjoyed the favors of this fair damsel, did you at least request the favor that you wanted most? A woman well pleasured can be very amenable to her lover's requests."

"Do not speak of her in that way, damn you."

"How should I speak of her? As your beloved? Your mistress?" He gestured violently toward the desk. "I'll wager she has not given you cause to think of her as your anything. That is why you lose yourself in that dead, long-ago world. The truths you unearth there are more secure than the ones you must face here."

They were not yelling, but their voices sliced the air and each other.

"If any of us knows why it happens, it would be you, Christian. Hell, you are spending your whole life there."

"Well, I am not there
now
;
nor will I be until this is settled."

It was not intended as a threat but it might as well have been one. It did not help that with each angry statement the current Lord Easterbrook looked more like the last.

"She was not indifferent to our concerns about the family name," Elliot said, trying to make his tone more reasonable in order to encourage his brothers’ reason. "She was willing to compromise for us alone."

"For you alone, you mean."

Actually, it had been for Alexia. He explained what the memoirs said, and how their father was not named. He described his unsatisfactory meeting with Merriweather.

Christian listened, darkly interested. "Merriweather is a fool."

"Honor would not allow him to lie. It would be ignoble for you to hold it against him."

"Are you now Merriweather's protector as well as Miss Blair s? No, wait, you do not have that role in her life, do you? Her belief in free love means she is free of both the rights and expectations that would give a man"

Elliot waited for more reaction regarding Merriweather's suspicions and the implications they held for their father. Denial. Fury. Instead his brother remained coldly expressionless and suspiciously calm.

"Damnation. You know the truth." Elliot said, amazed. "You know if he did it."

"I know nothing of the kind."

"Then, you know how to find out."

"I do not want to find out. Nor will I need to defend him if Miss Blair removes that passage. If she does not, and Merriweather holds firm, we will have more than society gossip to deal with."

"If it is not true there will be nothing to fear and everything to gain if it all comes out. I think we should do that—find out if it is true or not, so we know."

"I repeat, I do not want to find out."

"Christian, it
may not be true
."

Christian walked to the door. "What a hopeful son you are. But then, you did not know him very well. As for Miss Blair, I will consider staying my hand out of respect for your sentiment. However, there are others with a keen interest in those memoirs. It is unlikely that she can bewitch all the men in all those families."