The Black Madonna (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 1)

by Stella Riley

  She stared at him. He knew he hadn’t miscalculated. He also knew he’d already apologised more than adequately. Damn.

  She said awkwardly, ‘I’m sorry. That was rude and ungracious and - and unnecessary. What I should have said is ‘thank you’. The bracelet is beautiful. Only I can’t wear it because everyone would …’

  ‘Ask where you got it?’

  ‘More than that. They’d ask why you … why you’d give me something like that. And I don’t know the answer myself.’

  ‘Have you looked inside it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you presumably recognise an apology when you see it.’ His tone had lost its warmth and his eyes were suddenly watchful. ‘A natural reluctance to explain the circumstances surrounding it to your family is quite another matter.’

  Kate didn’t know whether he was cutting the ground from underneath her feet or inviting her to tell him something. Stiffening her spine, she said, ‘You’d already apologised.’

  His mouth curled. ‘I don’t think you believed me.’

  She had slapped his face. Hard. Turning as pink as one of her roses, she said, ‘I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have hit you.’

  ‘Yes. You should.’ He paused briefly to choose his words. ‘I was at fault. My sole aim was to free you from Clifford. I wasn’t supposed to be enjoying myself.’

  A single, hard thud seemed to reverberate through Kate’s body. She opened her mouth, closed it again and finally managed to croak, ‘What did you say?’

  ‘You mean you didn’t notice?’ Luciano combined a slightly deprecating gesture with a deliberately rakish smile and said, ‘I’m a man, Kate. Of course I enjoyed it – and for longer than was strictly necessary. I ought to have employed a little more control and your slap was well-earned. Consequently, I owed you a proper apology … hence the bracelet.’

  Kate swallowed, trying to make sense of him. He’d admitted that he had enjoyed kissing her but was telling her not to read too much into it. She put aside for later, the question of why – if he didn’t want her getting ideas – he’d made the admission at all.

  She decided it might be worth pushing him a little further.

  ‘You could have apologised with a note. The bracelet wasn’t necessary.’

  ‘I felt differently.’ He wondered if she had the remotest idea of how many hours’ work it represented – and then decided it was probably better if she didn’t. ‘I also enjoyed making it. But if you’d rather I took it back …?’

  ‘I wouldn’t.’ A tiny smile curled her mouth. She wondered what he’d think if he knew she put in on her wrist every night when she went to bed. ‘It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever owned.’ And the most precious because you made it with your own hands. ‘It’s just … it’s just that you must have known what sending something like that would … how it might …’ She stopped, unable to form the words.

  ‘Yes.’

  She stared at him. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I knew how it might appear to someone else. But I hoped you, at least, would see it for what it was.’

  An apology. The words hung in the air, unspoken.

  Or did they? Kate drew a long, steadying breath as a mind-cracking suspicion dawned. A suspicion that he was telling the truth and immediately making her discount it. He was so clever with words and much of what he said was ambiguous. He’d enjoyed kissing her – but so, by implication, would any man. The bracelet wasn’t a gift – it was an apology. Unfortunately, along the way, he’d admitted to losing a little of his legendary control whilst kissing her … and, if what Giacomo had said was true, he’d devoted a good deal more time and effort to the bracelet than any apology could possibly merit.

  I hoped you, at least, would see it for what it was. You, at least …

  Was there some underlying meaning there too – or was she letting her imagination run riot? Kate searched his face and could find nothing helpful. But if he had something to say, she wished he’d come straight out with it. The clues – if such they were - were driving her demented.

  Deciding it was time to end the game before it became even more convoluted, she managed an apparently careless shrug and said, ‘Of course. It’s just a shame I can’t wear it without provoking the Inquisition.’ And then, abruptly changing the subject, ‘I suppose Mother told you about the wedding. Have you really not come to forbid it?’

  ‘Not unless you’re about to tell me that Mr Aherne’s only after the pearls?’

  She grinned and shook her head.

  ‘They’re still buried behind the hen-coop. I suppose we ought to think of digging them up – but, truth to tell, we’ve had more serious things on our minds. Like how to get the priest here – and away again – without Nathan finding out. We’ve been unable to decide between sending him on a suitably long errand and putting a few poppy-seeds in his cherry cordial. But now you’re here, I suppose we could just get Selim to sit on him.’

  Something altered in Luciano’s expression but he said only, ‘You’re asking if I’ve brought him? I haven’t. He’s keeping an eye on things in Cheapside. Giacomo is … unwell.’

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry. Not seriously, I hope?’

  ‘He’ll live,’ said Luciano, rather more significantly than she realised. And then, partly in response to an earlier thought and partly to divert her, ‘Have you had any problems with the Royalists in Banbury?’

  ‘Not really. They take a percentage of our rents, of course – though not such a large one as they think they do.’ Her mouth curled a little. ‘They also prevent Nathan and his canting friends from getting above themselves – which has to be an advantage. And, aside from that, they leave us pretty much alone.’ She tilted her chin to examine him. ‘I understand that you were at the siege of Bristol. Was Francis there?’

  ‘He was. And survived, as far as I am aware, relatively unscathed.’ He wondered how deep her sudden composure actually went. She’d donned it like a cloak after what he’d said about the bracelet and was now treating him to small-talk. He found he didn’t particularly like it … but saw the sense, reluctantly, in not trying to change it. ‘Have you seen Eden at all?’

  ‘Not since the spring – though he wrote to Celia after Roundway Down, so at least we know he was safe then.’ Kate saw no reason to mention the fact that they all hoped Celia’s pregnancy might bring him home quite soon. She said lightly, ‘How’s Toby? I don’t suppose you’ve brought any letters from him – or Father?’

  He smiled at her then.

  ‘No. But if you were to go into the house, I don’t think you’d be disappointed.’

  Because, as always, that smile scattered her wits, it took her a moment to work this out. Then, incredulously, ‘They’re both here with you? Truly? Then why didn’t you say so in the first place?’

  ‘Probably,’ replied Luciano blandly, ‘because I’d hoped I might qualify for a greeting of my own. Also, of course, you didn’t ask.’

  * * *

  The initial meeting of Luciano del Santi and Liam Aherne was conducted along exquisitely formal lines which gave nobody any clues about whether or not they were likely to take to one another. Then they repaired to the privacy of Richard’s book-room for over an hour before inviting a distinctly frayed Gianetta to join them.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded challengingly from the door. ‘Are you to become brothers?’

  From across the room, Liam gave his rare smile.

  ‘Let’s just say we understand each other, alannah. Better, perhaps, than either one of us expected.’

  Gianetta looked at her brother.

  ‘So we may marry?’

  ‘Would you take any notice if I said no?’ Luciano asked.

  ‘Not a bit.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ He exchanged an almost imperceptible smile with Mr Aherne. ‘So it’s just as well that I approve your choice, isn’t it?’

  The impact of her gratitude all but overset him. Then, when she was safely established at Liam’s side, he said in a ra
ther different tone, ‘I can’t pretend I’m ecstatic at the prospect of your taking up residence in Ireland just now, but I’m not going to waste my breath trying to dissuade you – especially as Mr Aherne has already spent a considerable amount of time assuring me that, should the need arise, he and his followers can protect you more than adequately.’ He paused and looked from the Irishman to Gianetta. ‘There is, however, something else which we should talk about before you go. It concerns our father.’

  Without giving any hint that he already knew that his love’s late parent had gone to the scaffold, Liam said, ‘Would you want me to go?’

  ‘No,’ said Gianetta, holding fast to his hand.

  And, ‘No,’ said Luciano, a shade grimly. ‘If you’re going to join the family, you’ve a right to hear it because it may one day concern you. All I ask is your absolute discretion.’

  ‘It’s yours.’

  ‘Thank you.’ The Italian bent his head over his hands and then looked up at his sister. He said, ‘You once asked me what I was doing here in England. And now, because it may be my last opportunity, I propose to tell you – but only so that you will know. There is no room – and nor will there ever be – for discussion.’

  * * *

  It was Toby who provided Kate with some of the details deliberately withheld by Luciano, when a casual enquiry into the state of Giacomo’s health caused him to remark that, despite having lost so much blood and still being confined to bed, he appeared to be on the mend.

  ‘Blood?’ echoed Kate, sharply.

  ‘From the stabbing,’ nodded Toby. And then, lifting his gaze from the piece of paper on which capered a number of small figures, ‘The house was burgled while we were taking the girls to Oxford. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘No.’ Kate sat down on the other side of the table and rested her chin on her hands. ‘Supposing you tell me.’

  So – in as few words as possible and not forgetting to notice her expression when he spoke of Gwynneth – he did. And at the end of it all, added thoughtfully, ‘It’s a funny thing, though. Why break into a goldsmith’s shop and then waste your time on the owner’s desk instead of heading for the valuables? It doesn’t make sense.’

  There was a very peculiar look in Kate’s eye and it was a long time before she spoke. Then she said slowly, ‘Toby … have you ever wondered why Signor del Santi spends so much time running around the country?’

  ‘Yes. But he’s hardly likely to tell me, is he? And neither are Giacomo or Selim – or even Father, for that matter.’

  ‘Father knows?’

  ‘And has for ages. Hadn’t you guessed?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kate simply. ‘I just wasn’t sure if I was right – or if you knew.’

  ‘It’d be difficult not to with the two of ’em obviously thick as thieves,’ he retorted. ‘I know something else, too. You may have been wondering why Sir travels about so much – but I’ve been wondering how. And now I know.’ He grinned at her. ‘He’s got a Royalist pass. I saw it when we went to Oxford.’

  Kate’s eyes widened.

  ‘That must come in handy. Do you suppose he’s got a parliamentary one as well?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised. If it were anyone else, it would be tempting to start thinking in terms of spying … but Sir, of course, doesn’t give a tinker’s curse who wins the war.’

  ‘So what is he doing?’

  ‘At the moment?’ Toby shrugged. ‘Making a few rather nice pieces to sell on his way to Genoa next spring – and looking for some fellow called Brandon.’

  There was another long silence. Then Kate said calmly, ‘Toby – I could murder you. How do you know?’

  ‘I overheard something Selim said.’ He addressed himself once more to his drawing. ‘And I can’t honestly see that it’s very much help. After all, we don’t know why he wants to find him, do we? It may just be business.’

  Yes. The same sort that took him to Worcester and Oxford and Bristol, thought Kate cynically. But said only, ‘You’re right, I suppose. It’s just difficult not to be curious.’ And then, looking down at what he was doing, ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Oh – nothing much.’ Toby rose and picked up his paper. ‘I was just passing the time.’

  Something clicked in Kate’s brain. She said, ‘It reminds me of those cartoons we’ve been seeing such a lot of recently. Tabitha’s got a whole collection of them.’

  ‘Has she?’ he responded negligently. ‘Funny girl. But you’d know all about peculiar interests, wouldn’t you?’

  * * *

  The wedding of Gianetta Maria Falcieri del Santi and Liam Patrick Aherne took place discreetly two evenings later beneath The Fall of Lucifer in Thorne Ash’s chapel. Nathan, with Adam Woodley to keep an eye on him, had been despatched on a seemingly vital mission to Warwick - and Celia, informed of the event at the last possible moment, unsurprisingly declined to attend. The bride, wearing a gown of her favourite cherry silk and attended by Mistresses Kate and Tabitha Maxwell, elected to dazzle her bridegroom with every one of her newly-exhumed jewels; and the bride’s brother performed his part with what, to one pair of eyes, appeared to be a cross between resignation and relief.

  Back in the house and with the Jesuit safely on his way, they all sat down to what, in certain respects, was less a wedding-breakfast than a last supper – for it had been arranged that Gianetta and Liam would leave on the following morning for the coast.

  Kate pushed her food around her plate, drank three glasses of wine and contributed little to the general air of festivity. She was occupied with the knowledge that Signor del Santi would probably leave the house within an hour of his sister and that, therefore, if she was going to present him with any information she might have on sundry Brandons, it had better be done tonight. The only question, of course, was how.

  She was still debating this point when the party transferred to the parlour and Luciano himself emerged at her elbow to say softly, ‘Am I allowed, without prejudice, to compliment you on your gown?’

  It was the bronze and amber one given to her by the Queen. Its elbow-length sleeves were trimmed with falls of gold lace, its full skirt ended in a sweeping demi-train and it was girdled with topazes. So far, so good. But the wide décolletage which barely clung to the points of her shoulders and framed the gentle swell of her breasts was barely within the bounds of decency and revealed a good deal more of her than Kate considered quite proper.

  Her brows soared and she said, ‘You may compliment me on anything you like. But unless you’re prepared to catch me when I faint, perhaps you’d better not.’

  Laughter gleamed in his eyes. ‘You malign me.’

  ‘No. I don’t.’ She hesitated and, becoming suddenly serious, said, ‘Toby told me about Giacomo … and Gwynneth. I’m so sorry.’

  His face became suddenly opaque.

  ‘Tobias has a big mouth. But thank you.’

  She opened her mouth to say, ‘Did you love her?’ Then, realising that would be inviting a snub, changed it to, ‘Please give Giacomo my good wishes for his recovery.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. And then, ‘No.’

  She stared at him uncertainly. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘No. I didn’t love her. That is what you wanted to ask, isn’t it?’

  Feeling the betraying colour heating her face, Kate saw no point in denying it.

  ‘Yes. But I realised that it’s no business of mine – which is why I didn’t. So you didn’t have to tell me.’

  ‘No. I didn’t. But, since you apparently know I once had a relationship with Gwynneth, I would prefer that you have no misconceptions. I both liked and respected her … and her death is wholly regrettable. Truthfully, I’d rather not talk of it.’

  ‘No. Of course. I shouldn’t have --’

  ‘You meant well and have nothing to apologise for.’ He smiled at her, deliberately raising the provocative façade again, ‘It really is a very becoming gown. What there is of it.’

  Relaxing, she shook her
head at him and said, ‘I know. It frightens me silly, too.’

  ‘Oh – I’m not alarmed. Merely optimistic.’

  This was so far from any other conversation they had ever had that Kate couldn’t think of anything to say. He actually seemed to be flirting with her. And the way his eyes seemed to be lingering on her mouth was causing strange little tremors in the pit of her stomach. She dragged her gaze from his face and tried to remember what she’d wanted to tell him.

  ‘Something on your mind, Caterina?’ His voice wrapped round her like silk.

  She swallowed hard.

  ‘Such as what, for example?’

  ‘Such as wondering if it will ever be your turn?’

  ‘My turn for what?’

  ‘To be married.’

  She was so off-balance, she almost asked – with probably disastrous consequences - if he was offering. Fortunately, a better idea occurred to her.

  ‘No,’ she sighed. ‘As a matter of fact, I was thinking about Venetia – Kit’s sister, you know. I don’t suppose you saw her while you were in Oxford, did you?’

  ‘No. I didn’t.’ A frown gathered behind his eyes. ‘As I said, Tobias has a big mouth. I must remember to speak to him about it.’

  Kate kept her smile purposefully vague and pressed on before she found herself on very dangerous ground indeed.

  ‘She used to write to me before Kit and I … well, you know. And I was wondering if she and Ellis were married yet.’ She stopped, as if struck by a sudden, gladsome thought. ‘Actually, if you’ve been consorting with the King’s army, you may have come across him. His name is Brandon. Ellis Brandon.’

  Even watching as carefully as she was, Kate could detect no change in his expression; but he took so long to reply that she had to remind herself to breathe. Finally, he said gently, ‘I don’t think so. The name is not familiar.’

  ‘Oh.’ It was impossible, as usual, to tell what he was thinking – especially as Toby had been unable to provide her with a forename. Kate swallowed her frustration, kept her eyes wide and innocent and shot her last bolt. ‘That’s a shame. You were my only hope. The last I heard, he was with George Goring – but I suppose he might have thought better of it and gone back to Yorkshire.’ She shrugged. ‘Not, from what I saw of him, that I can imagine him joining forces with his father. He always gave the impression that the two of them disagreed on just about everything as a matter of principle. To be honest, I didn’t like him very much.’