**
Cleome was invited to the wedding but Moira had made it clear through Oliver that they would be permitted to see Edwina only briefly before the ceremony.
“Can you believe the audacity of the woman?” Oliver railed as he stormed into Cleome’s morning room at Houghton Hall. “I trust you received your invitation.”
“It arrived but an hour ago. I have been expecting you.”
“Moira delivered mine herself. Said she also invited you, but that I must see to it you behave. Said it was only because you’re Edwina’s friend. But I know she’s inviting you for the gift, the greedy cow!”
“Then it must be a grand one.”
“I wager half the wedding presents will not make it to Italy with the happy couple.” He was livid. “Cleome, I must put a stop to this.”
“Can you?” she asked hopefully. “Is there some legal recourse?”
“I don’t know. I had a note from Edwina. She writes that this is her decision, although it’s also what her mother wants. Well, here. See for yourself.” He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and held it out to Cleome. She smoothed it out and studied it carefully. “Oh, it is her hand, to be sure. I’d know it anywhere,” Oliver declared. “But the words are Moira’s.”
Cleome quickly read the note. “She is going to live in Italy with him! She says he loves her music and is happy just to hear her play.”
“Moira has asked me to escort my niece down the aisle, in her father’s stead.” The old man’s voice broke. “Cleome, how can I give that precious girl over to a man who has such a vile reputation, even among rakes and scoundrels?”
Seeing how agitated Oliver was, she led him to an easy chair. “Sit down, please. You must calm yourself. Now tell me. What do you know about him?”
With a sigh, Oliver dropped heavily into the chair. “He got into some terrible mischief at university. Concerning the ladies, but I don’t know the details.”
“Would it serve our purpose to find out?”
“Not if Edwina is willing to marry and Moira consents.”
“But Paolo Paresi!” Cleome could not take it in. “And Italy is so far away. How do you suppose her mother got her to agree?”
“Oh, the witch has her ways. Moira has no doubt locked up her piano again. How could she be so cruel?” They both knew that to Edwina, her music was as necessary as breathing. “She suffers so when Moira keeps it from her. But, according to Edwina, the count has promised to ship her piano to Italy and let her keep the key. She wishes to put as much distance between herself and her mother as she can. Perhaps it’s for the best, if only he will let her have her music.” He calmed gradually and a normal color returned to his face. “She even writes that she has made Paolo promise not to let Moira visit them—ever. But you and I will be welcome as soon as she is settled.”
“Will we get even a moment alone with her, do you think?”
“If I agree to participate in this farce, we can each have five minutes with her before the ceremony. Moira wanted it to be afterward, but I got at least that much.” He had to smile again. “Edwina says in her letter that she would marry him just for that. Just to see us both again.”
“Then you must agree, Oliver. We must hear from Edwina herself that she’s acting of her own will.”
“And if she is not?”
“Then we’ll talk her out of it. She can live with me and you can petition the court to intervene, if necessary. But we must speak with her.”
**
The wedding was to be a simple, elegant affair, which Moira Landshire was orchestrating to perfection. She had been scrimping, saving, planning and persuading since Edwina was ten years old, and at last, she had brought about a successful match. Now Edwina would be a countess and Moira would have the luxurious lifestyle she knew she deserved. And she was still young. She might yet find a rich husband for herself among her son-in-law’s associates.
A trio of singers would serenade the couple while Edwina, in a gown any bride would envy, walked down a flower-strewn aisle on the arm of her widely respected uncle, to speak the appropriate words before the minister. While Oliver had been the bane of Moira’s existence these past few years, she needed his seal of approval on a match that would seem to be hurried. The noted barrister’s presence would rob the gossips of any fodder they might glean from a rushed ceremony.
Completely satisfied with herself, Moira Landshire smoothed her gown and surveyed the church, which was bursting at the seams with flowers and wedding guests. In just moments, she thought with greedy anticipation, her new life would begin.
**
“Eddy, I only want to be sure. You’re certain this is what you want?” Cleome queried her friend soberly. “What about Garnett?”
“Garnett loves you,” Edwina answered with no sign of resentment. “He loved you before he knew I existed and he will always love you. He’s not interested in me, nor would he satisfy Mamma, especially with his present difficulties. And Cleo, I must get away from her or I shall go mad. I can live without Garnett, if I must. I cannot live without my music.”
“You do not love Paolo. You don’t even know him.”
“I shall get to know him and I’ll do my best to love him. He cannot possibly be meaner to me than Mamma has been, and if he does not deny me my greatest pleasure—my music—then I’ll grant him anything he desires.” She reached inside the high, lacy collar of her wedding dress and withdrew a small key on a velvet ribbon. “See. He has given me the key to my piano. I’ll never be locked away from it again. Please try to understand. In no time at all, I’ll be in my own home and never forbidden your company. And all I must do for this glorious freedom is to be a good little wife, which I can do.”
“But Paolo. I cannot see you with him.”
“He has a look of Garnett about him, don’t you think, with his flaxen hair and blue eyes?” Edwina asked. “Not as handsome, of course; but pleasing to look upon.”
“But my dear girl,” Cleome protested. “He is so strange.”
Edwina smiled. “There are those who call me strange, you know.”
“And me, as well!”
“No. I hear the gossip more than you, for Mamma is my source. You are referred to as beautiful, daring, delightfully scandalous. I am called eccentric, which is the same as strange. Paolo can be no more so. Believe it or not, he has a charming side. He seems very gentle. I’ll not suffer at his hands, Cleome. He wants a wife and children. He says that’s all it will take to make him happy.”
“And you? What will it take to make you happy, little one?”
The answer was simple. “My music.”
Oliver asked Cleome to stay for his five-minute visit with the bride, as he was so distressed he could do little but shake his head and weep silently. In spite of all the reassurances his niece whispered to him, it took all his strength to hold his tears in check as he escorted her to the front of the church where her groom was waiting.
**
Together, Edwina and Paolo stood at the ship’s rail and watched the brawny stevedores as they used ropes and pulleys to load her piano into the cargo hold. She stood close beside her husband, determined to be brave and as loving as she could be, considering her lack of experience and his generosity. Because it was the safest mode of transport for her piano, he had booked passage for them on a large cargo vessel with luxurious passenger staterooms. Instead of taking the shorter journey by boat across the English Channel and then traveling through France by coach, they would sail the long way to Italy, going around Spain and through the Strait of Gibraltar.
Paolo put his arm around her protectively, and then he bent to kiss her softly, briefly, before he led her back to their cabin, which was filled with flowers, wedding gifts, luggage and several bottles of expensive Paresi champagne.
Not knowing her husband’s capacity for spirits, and what spirits could do to undermine an amorous undertaking, Edwina made no protest later that night when Paolo opened the third bottle.
He had consumed most of the first two bottles before dinner, which he’d said would enable him to make witty conversation at the captain’s table with people he found infinitely boring.
After dinner, when he walked her back to their stateroom, Edwina was only a little nervous. She found she did not object to the idea of granting Paolo his connubial rights, as she had thought she would. If she looked at it as an interesting experiment that would result an angelic little baby, she could get through it. And she rather liked Paolo. He was not Garnett to be sure, but he was sweet to her and often funny. While she would not want his stinging barbs directed at her, some of the wicked things he said about his aristocratic friends made her laugh. She was convinced he would be gentle and patient on their wedding night, as he’d promised.
Paolo poured himself a glass of champagne, drank it quickly, and poured another. After taking a sip, he put it down and took off his jacket and cravat. Then he settled back on the small bed and smiled at her.
“I await my blushing bride,” he said quietly, picking up his glass again.
Behind a screen in their small stateroom, Edwina changed into her nightgown and robe; and then she went uncertainly to the foot of the bed. He studied her for a moment, then rose and went to stand close to her.
“Oh, my.” He spoke at last. “Are you not the pretty, pretty one.”
“Thank you,” she replied tentatively, relaxing a little.
“Well, then,” he said. “Let us have a look at the bargain we have struck.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I wish to see you, Edwina.” His voice was touched by sarcasm as he stepped away from her and continued, “Turn around, my little contessa, if you please. I wish to see my bride.”
Slowly, she obeyed. It was not so much, she supposed, for a husband to ask. When she had come full circle, she stopped and waited expectantly.
“Remove your robe.”
With fingers that trembled only slightly, she untied the ribbons at her neck and slipped the robe off, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes traveled over every inch of her, from her face to her feet, pausing briefly at her bosom, where the key to her beloved piano hung between her breasts.
“Ah . . . that is where you keep it,” he observed appreciatively. “Now the rest.”
“What?”
“Edwina, darling. Do not be tiresome. Take off the remainder of your clothing. Take everything off . . . except the key on the velvet ribbon. I find it quite fetching, just where it is.”
Stunned and embarrassed, she made no move to accommodate him. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “Perhaps when I am more accustomed to . . . marriage . . . I can do as you bid. But for now . . . please forgive me and have patience, for I do wish to be a good wife.”
“And I wish to see my bride,” he repeated evenly. When she still stood paralyzed, uncertain of his intent and unable to move, he closed one strong hand around her neck and pulled her close so that she could feel his breath on her face.
“Take off the gown, Edwina!” he roared.
Still holding her throat, he pushed her down onto the bed and then he kicked the small table next to it, sending their water pitcher and his champagne glass crashing to the floor.
“Now, my love,” he ordered, straightening his clothes and smoothing his hair back. “Get another glass and pour some more champagne for me.” Serenely calm after his brief storm, he again reclined on their bed as she rose and hastened to do his bidding. He took the full glass from her, drank deeply and continued quietly, “I am waiting, contessa. Take off the garment and turn around, very slowly.” He seemed to enjoy her discomfort. “Or,” he finished menacingly, “I will take it off for you. The choice is yours, my dear.”
Frightened by his unexpected outburst and mortified by his odd request, Edwina unbuttoned the garment, slipped it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Burning with shame, she fought back her tears, determined not to cry in his presence.
Breathing heavily, watching her intently, he motioned for her to turn around again. And he spoke just one word. “Slowly.”
With only a slight hesitation, she obeyed. When she faced him again and forced her eyes up to meet his, she was surprised to see that he had fallen asleep. Relieved, she put her gown back on and got into bed beside him. He was still fully clothed, on top of the coverlet, so she got beneath it, telling herself that she should not feel any shame nor be so shocked by his request. He was her husband, after all. She supposed it was natural that he’d want to see her. How naïve she was. What did she think went on between a husband and wife? Clearly, he’d had too much to drink but as it was their wedding night, she supposed that was understandable. And he had passed out because of the amount of liquor he had consumed, and—she told herself—not because he found her undesirable.
But a nagging worry seized her heart. His sudden, unexpected violence frightened her but perhaps she should have been quicker to obey. She missed Cleome and her Uncle Oliver and instead of forgetting Garnett Easton, as she had hoped Paolo’s love would make her do, she longed for him more than ever. She fell asleep thinking of Garnett and how comfortable they had been dining together that night, only six weeks ago, at the Eagle’s Head Inn.
The next morning, the ship ran into a light storm and before the captain could steer them around it, Edwina’s husband became ill. Whether it was from the motion of the waves or all the champagne he’d drunk, she couldn’t tell; but he insisted she call in a cabin boy to attend him. He advised his bride that she would be better off in the adjoining dressing room until he felt better, and he did not trouble her again during their honeymoon voyage.
Paolo was delighted to get home to his villa, which was located on his own private paradise, the Isola di Paresi, off the coast of Sicily, near Palermo. It was a beautiful estate, and the large, richly furnished house was a virtual palace. Tall, wide windows let every breeze in to cool the polished tile floors, and there was an army of servants to meet his every need, he said with a smile, and to help him pamper his contessa. Edwina thought it must be his servants he pampered, for there was not a frail one among them. They were all robust, looked as strong as warriors and seemed devoted to the graceful nobleman they served. Edwina believed it a good sign that they were all so well fed and held their master in such esteem. He was gentle and solicitous of her and she decided to forgive his outburst during their honeymoon voyage. He must be very kind, if his servants so revered him, and again she vowed to herself to try and become accustomed to his strange ways.
In addition to the huge master bedroom that was decorated in shades of lavender, deep purple and gold, they each had their own suite of apartments; but it was to the former that Edwina’s luggage was taken, and to which a tall, well-formed maid led her. The large bedroom, which Paolo referred to as the lilac room, was on the ground floor. In addition to the interior door on the main hallway, it had big double doors that opened onto a marble patio to let in the refreshing ocean air. When two menservants uncrated her piano Paolo insisted it occupy a place of honor in the library, and Edwina was able to put aside her doubts. Paolo, in the home he so clearly loved, was once again charming and witty.
After a sumptuous dinner, she retired with him to the lilac room, and she resolved to do everything in her power to make him happy. He ordered a bath brought in for her and although it made her uncomfortable, she did not protest when he settled himself in a chair to watch as Sophia, the woman he’d presented as her personal maid, helped her get undressed and into the tub.
“That will be all, Sophia,” Paolo said, and she withdrew with a quick curtsy. He said nothing more. He simply leaned back in his chair and watched as his young wife picked up a bar of scented soap and a soft cloth and commenced her bath. When she was covered in frothy, fragrant bubbles, he rang the bell and Sophia came back. The maid helped her to stand and then rinsed off the soap with pitchers of fresh, warm water, after which she assisted her out of the tub, dried her off and helped her into her nightgown.
And then, he stopped stroking her and studied her, letting his eyes roam freely over her curves, as his hands had done. But as she was about to put her arms around him, he turned over and went to sleep. This process he repeated every night for the first week of her residence in her new home, and then, abruptly, he had all her things moved to her own suite of rooms. Paolo summoned her to their shared bedroom only twice more, and both times it was the same. He caressed her in intimate places and in the glow of candlelight, he stared at her unclad form. But, although she thought it must be clear to him that his touch excited her, he went no further.
She didn’t know exactly what a wedding night was supposed to be, but she knew there should be more. A month later, her husband celebrated his twenty-ninth birthday by consuming a prodigious amount of champagne and brandy, and playing cards far into the night with two strange men. Bernardo, who spoke little English, was a surly lout and looked stronger than he looked intelligent. The other man, Rupert, was an Englishman and a physician who seemed to dote on Paolo’s health and well-being. Their lewd stares made Edwina uncomfortable and when it became clear that the count would do nothing to stop their leering, Edwina made her excuses and went to her solitary bed.
The Lodestone Page 28