She touched the flowers draped artistically over her bergère hat and glanced out of the window. Although September had worn a week into the year, the sun still shone brightly, with little respite, but at least it had gone from unbearable to tolerable. She was glad of the hoops that kept the fabric off her body.
The carriage turned down a drive edged with plane trees, the house visible at the end. The white, marble columns of the portico gleamed in the sunlight.
The duke alighted first, but only so he could help Matilda and Delphi down himself. Delphi shook out her skirts and turned around, her back to the house. Having visited before, she knew what she would see.
Although Rome was set on hills, higher hills reared behind it, and the villa was built on one of those. The glorious vista of Rome spread out below, the villa on the hill giving a perfect view. “I could look at it all day,” she said, her voice barely above a breath.
“Oh, come now,” Matilda answered, laughter in her voice. “You wouldn’t be able to keep yourself away from all that history for long. You’d look at it for an hour, then order the carriage. Or walk down there yourself. I wouldn’t put it past you.”
Although Delphi laughed, she didn’t take her eyes away from the glorious view. But Matilda had the truth. Views weren’t enough. She needed to become part of it and, yes, she would head off down that hill more often than not. “I can’t paint or draw well enough to do it justice, but I can interpret it. I can show why it deserves such love and respect, and all it has done for us. Imagine, that city down there, that small part of the world once owned everything.”
“Indeed,” Harry agreed. “And our hostess is waiting.
With a decisive gesture, he turned, and offered his arms to the ladies, one each. They ascended the broad, shallow staircase carefully, the old stones in good condition but showing their age. Although the villa was barely a hundred years old, it stood on the site of one much older, and before that, another. One on top of the other.
At the top of the stairs, their host and hostess waited to greet them. Lady Billingham wore a straw hat with a broad brim. She resembled nothing so much as a giant mushroom. Her comfortable figure and the cream of her gown only exaggerated that. But she had such a charming smile, Delphi could forgive her anything.
Kisses, bows and curtseys followed. To her relief, Delphi discerned no difference in the way her ladyship had greeted her the last time they had visited the villa, on their arrival before the summer.
“We shall have a day of it,” Lady Billingham said, linking arms with Matilda. “I must say you set fashion notes for us all, your grace.”
Matilda didn’t look around this time, as she declared she had the first few times anyone had addressed her in that way. “I appreciate your words, my lady, but I fear you have me confused with someone else. I dress as I please, and I always have. I doubt anyone would follow me. A bear-leader, perhaps…”
Since Lady Billingham could give Matilda ten years and change, she merely laughed. “You are mistaken. You wear that shade of pink so well. I swear I saw the Contessa d’Albi wearing just that color the other day. When I asked her what it was, she said it was ‘soupir d’Trensom’.”
Matilda halted. “You are joking me, aren’t you?” The color flushed over her cheeks. “I’m no Madame de Pompadour. She’s the epitome of elegance and grace, not I.”
“Your style is all the rage, my dear. You put her to shame.”
Trensom’s bark of laughter had them all turning their heads. “I always thought so,” he explained. “But in London, they call Matilda eccentric. Or they did.”
“They have no taste.” Lady Billingham dismissed the whole of London society with an airy wave of her fan. “None at all.”
The wide double doors led to a large, square hall, tiled in marble. The doors to the back of the house lay open. The villa was built around this hall, and the courtyard that lay beyond. Not an overlarge house, it was nevertheless famous for its elegance. People vied for invitations here. Lady Billingham owned it. Her husband had made himself vastly rich from judicious investments as well as from his sizable estate.
“We are considering overwintering in the villa this year,” her ladyship said as she led Matilda and Delphi across the expanse towards the courtyard. Several people sat there, conversing and drinking wine.
“You have a veritable fête champêtre here,” Trensom said.
“Of course.” Lord Billingham put in. “And you are making such a famous job of the attaché position. Congratulations, old boy. Your father would be proud.”
“Perhaps he would,” Trensom said, “but I am not. I had no idea the government would set this office on my shoulders. As I told you, you could do it much better.”
They passed through the cool, circular hall to the back of the house. Here, a delightful terrace, shaded by another portico, gave a wonderful view of the gardens.
People looked up and nodded, but this being an informal gathering, they did not stand and bow. Her ladyship preferred her parties to be casual and comfortable, as she put it.
A fountain tinkled in the center of the space. About fifteen people sat around it, on the light chairs and benches provided. Lavish flower arrangements stood in large vases, interspersed with urns containing living plants. A quartet played, the music filtering gently over the company rather than dominating it. That was one reason people loved coming here; they were not obliged to do anything they didn’t want to, like listening intently to music and commenting on it. Music recitals, in Delphi’s opinion, were of the devil.
Fixing a smile on her face, Delphi went forward, determined to enjoy the day, if gossip had not spread too far. At least nobody shied away when she approached.
“Lady Delphi, so good to see you again!”
Why she had not seen Lord Joshua Stuart, she did not know, but here he was, smiling in his own sweet way. She seemed to like him more each time she met him. “My lord.” She went to curtsey, but remembered the request for informality and offered him her hand instead.
Instead of shaking it, he raised it to his lips, and actually grazed the skin. Gentlemen rarely did that, even when they offered the gesture. Delphi laughed. “Romantic, Lord Joshua?”
“Sometimes, when the fancy takes me. Walk with me for a while.”
She looped her hand through his arm. He led the way outside. This courtyard, although open to the air, was shielded by canopies suspended from the first floor balcony. Outside, a vista of trees and gravel paths awaited their presence. “Sometimes I miss home,” Lord Joshua commented. “But the beauty of Rome is more than adequate compensation.”
Out here, past the covered corridor that encompassed the back of the villa, half a dozen shallow steps led to the paths. People walked here, mostly in twos and threes, so they were perfectly chaperoned.
“You could go home,” she answered him.
He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I do not miss the rain.” He paused. “Or some of the people I left at home. I don’t scruple to tell you that living in Rome is decidedly cheaper. Also more profitable for me. Although my brother gives me an allowance, I prefer not to live on his bounty.”
“But you’re his heir.”
“So I am. But there is no love lost between us. My mother was our father’s second wife. Have you not heard the old scandal?”
Delphi shook her head.
“After a first marriage which produced my brother and a number of girls, my father remarried for love when he was sixty-three and my mother thirty-five. Unexpectedly they produced me. Over forty years lie between Beauchamp and myself. Long, unhappy years. He resented my mother deeply, and included me in his enmity. After my father died, my brother made it clear I had to toe his line or leave. We left. My mother and I were happy to travel and eventually we made Rome our home. She died ten years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “She was happy here. But thank you.”
“Did your brother not wish you to learn about
the estate, and your inheritance?”
Lord Joshua shook his head. “He did, but his insults to my mother grew too much, and I refused to go back. I have no desire to trespass where I am not wanted. He hates me, and he has done everything he can to stop me becoming the duke after him. He even remarried.”
“Yes, to Lady Elizabeth Askew.”
“Here.” Taking her arm in a firm grip, he led her to a nearby wooden bench, and helped her to sit. Her feet crunched on the gravel. “You were not friendly with Lady Elizabeth, were you?”
Delphi shook her head. “Not particularly. She doesn’t approve of my brother’s choice of wife.”
“Ah, yes, the lady silversmith.”
“Yes.” Annie never made any bones about her City origins and the company she still owned, so why should they? She was proud of Annie, making her own way in the world.
“My brother sent for me on the occasion of his marriage. I met them in Paris. I had no idea who he’d married until I met them.”
He stared ahead, his expression cold. “That was cruel of him. I met her before, you know, on her come-out. I thought her the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.”
“Yes, she is lovely.” A cold beauty. She hesitated, but plowed on. Lord Joshua was so easy to talk to. “She made matters difficult for us after my brother inherited the title.” She would not gossip or cast aspersions. Now that Lady Elizabeth had become the Duchess of Beauchamp, she would most likely leave them alone. She didn’t wish to stir up old enmities.
“I courted her, along with half of London, but I had little to offer her apart from the pension from my brother. That was one reason I came abroad, to see what I could make of myself.” He flashed her a bright smile. “Time moves on, does it not? My brother is seventy-six, and showing every year.” His laugh sounded like a creaky door. “She is still lovely.”
“She got what she wanted,” Delphi said without rancor.
A footman walked slowly past, bearing a tray of drinks. Lord Joshua stood and took two glasses of wine. Condensation ran down their sides, and when Delphi accepted one from him, she found it deliciously cool. She sipped, letting the pause calm her ruffled spirits. Thinking of their old rival always did that.
“He is trying to supplant me with someone of his own get,” Lord Joshua said after a deep draft that emptied half of his drink. “Our father did not produce more than one male heir with his first wife, so after she died, he married again, to a woman young enough to be his daughter. That was my mother. At first, I was the heir presumptive to the dukedom by default. Everyone assumed Beauchamp would father a son, but he had two daughters, and no prospect of any more children. His duchess stubbornly went on living long after she had ceased being of any use to him. She died a few years ago—three, if I remember rightly.” He shrugged. “Perhaps more. I don’t remember. His affairs had ceased to be of use to me.”
“His daughters are married, aren’t they?”
“They are. Beauchamp used them to further his aims. He found women for me, but I rejected all of them. He wanted me under his thumb.” His mouth firmed. “I am not the kind of man to be happy under anyone’s thumb, especially Beauchamp’s.”
He waved to the waiter and claimed a fresh glass of wine. “My brother wants to supplant me with a son of his own get, since I refused to fall in line. So he has taken a young wife.” He curled his lip.
Delphi sensed his distaste. Perhaps he felt the same way she did about marrying for dynastic purposes; that it led to a great deal of unhappiness. Now that the new Duchess of Beauchamp was threatening to overset Lord Joshua’s inheritance, he might have more reason to dislike her. She wouldn’t push the conclusion. He had expressed himself clearly enough.
She slid her finger up the cool, smooth glass, and looked back at him. He was watching her, his gray eyes wide, interested. Speculative. Delphi looked away, her pulse quickening and her breath shortening. Men didn’t look at her in that way. Well, only one man had ever done so, and she tried not to think about him.
The unexpectedly sensuous moment flustered her. “So you are staying here in Rome permanently?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“I have no plans to go anywhere else. Particularly now.”
She couldn’t miss the import of his words, however hard she tried. As long as you are here.
“You do seem happy in Rome.” She was floundering now, not daring to look at his face again. She sipped her wine, her throat suddenly dry. “As I am.”
She wanted to find a quiet place to be on her own for a while. To think.
“Perhaps we can be happy here together. Friends in adversity, you could say.” He paused, sipped. “Perhaps more than friends. We shall see.” Before she could answer, he went on. “I am composing a little report for the Papal court on the fountains of Rome.”
“Indeed?” She hadn’t heard of that before.
“An account of their state of repair, that is all. Especially the ones close to the Vatican. It keeps me out of trouble, and keeps me fed.”
She hadn’t heard that he was short of money, but one never knew. “Are you interested in Renaissance art?”
“As a continuation of the classical tradition, certainly. And next to Michelangelo, I consider Bernini the greatest sculptor of modern times.” He glanced at her, smiling. “Although my heart is still with the classical world.”
His meaning was unmistakable. He admired the classical world, of which she was a scholar. Delphi didn’t handle flirting terribly well. The insincere compliments sounded idiotic to her, especially when would-be suitors extolled her beauty. But someone who found her vulnerabilities, her love for the ancient world, that was another matter. Too close to home.
“I have always loved the ancient world,” she said softly. “Rome in particular.”
About to plunge into her favorite subject, Trajan and his conquests, she opened her mouth, but he continued, leaning closer. “Your studies do you credit. But so does your beauty. Lady Delphi, I have been watching you since your arrival in Rome, and permit me to say—”
Whatever compliment he intended to impart disappeared in the shock of hearing a familiar voice behind her. “Ah, there you are. Her ladyship sent me to discover your whereabouts. Did you not notice that everyone has gone inside?”
The bubble surrounding her and Lord Joshua popped. Delphi twisted around to see the Duke of Kilsyth bowing to her, his mouth quirked in amusement. She watched that mouth as he rose and allowed her to admire his magnificence.
Gone was the shabby, rubbed pink coat, replaced by one of dark green that rustled alluringly as he moved. His linen was spotlessly white, from the French lace on the cuffs peeking below the heavy cuffs of his coat. His waistcoat was a marvel of embroidery on cream silk. Buttons adorned with brilliants—surely they couldn’t be diamonds—glittered in the sunshine. His cream-colored breeches dared any passing speck of dirt to besmirch them.
He must have decided to demonstrate his wealth instead of concealing it. His appearance now was much more like the Kilsyth she remembered.
Numbly, she extended her hand for him to bow over. Unlike Lord Joshua Stuart, he did not brush his lips against her skin, but provided the perfectly executed bow of welcome to a lady of rank. Lord Joshua, who had sprung to his feet, gave a short bow. “Kilsyth,” he said, his lips primmed.
Angry, she guessed, because Adam had interrupted them. Lord Joshua’s look hadn’t promised intellectual discussion.
Getting to her feet, she looked around. Adam was right; everyone had deserted the garden. “Lady Billingham bade everyone return to the house to share a cold collation. No doubt an elegant one,” he added, his mouth quirking into a real smile. “Perhaps her footman, seeing you deep in conversation, elected to leave you alone with Lord Joshua.”
Goodness, she could have found herself in serious trouble. Alone with a man for longer than a few minutes would start gossip. Bitter experience had told her how difficult quelling gossip could be, once the spark had landed
on the tinder.
“Then we must also go in.” She held out a hand, palm up, and a drop of moisture obligingly fell on it. “Rain threatens.” They’d had some thunderstorms, but not an honest-to-goodness shower of rain. “At last, autumn is coming.”
“Indeed.” When Adam offered the support of his arm, she had to take it, and really, she owed him her thanks for rescuing her from a potentially dangerous situation. The firm muscle underneath his fine clothing flexed, reminding her that here was no fashionable fribble.
A disgruntled Lord Joshua had to walk on her other side, and when the path narrowed, drop behind. Adam had cut him out nicely. While appreciating the maneuver, Delphi didn’t appreciate it. “I see you have changed, sir,” she said tartly.
“I have more than one suit of clothes, Ma’am, as you very well know. I have not brought them all from London, but a large selection of them. I may disport myself as I see fit.”
His droll turn of phrase made her laugh. “Disporting is, I believe, not something society approves of.”
“Ha!” His short bark of laughter echoed off the stone walls of the house. He guided her up the shallow steps and into the glasshouse which formed the back of the house. The structure allowed people to enjoy the gardens, even when the rain came, as it was now, coming down in slanted shafts. They barely got inside in time.
Lady Billingham, standing near a long table positively groaning with food, beamed at them. “There now. You should take care, Lady Delphi, that you do not become so absorbed in your subject that you fail to notice the dangers around you.”
A warning, or at least, Delphi took it that way. “Indeed, my lady, I will take care in future.”
She could have found herself betrothed to Lord Joshua without her say-so. Spending much longer alone with him would have blackened her reputation, if they were not betrothed. Of course, she’d spent time with men she was not related to, but either in acceptable circumstances, like an open carriage, or society had not been made aware of it. That was the important thing—being found out.
A Whisper of Treason Page 8