“No one in England must ever discover that you and Brianna traveled alone together,” Lady Penderley warned. “It won’t matter that it was only done to save my son’s life. Society would crucify her.”
“They won’t find out, my lady,” Daniel stated. “I will ensure that.” Because if word did get out that he’d compromised Brianna, even though he never actually would, he would be honor-bound to rectify the situation. And the ramifications of that scared the hell out of him.
Chapter Nine
Hotel Figarelli, Naples
Calogero cut his piece of seared beef with precise strokes, satisfied that the inside flesh was red and oozing with juices. Though he had been born with the strange affliction of having no sense of feeling, taste and smell, he still insisted on his food being cooked meticulously. He took a bite and chewed methodically before swallowing.
“Is your breakfast to your expectations, sir?” The waiter’s expression looked highly anxious as he stood to attention.
Calogero loved how his reputation still had such an effect on men, so far from home. “It is satisfactory,” he agreed.
“The chef will be happy to hear that.” The man sighed, relief shining in his expression. “Ah, I see you have brought some books with you to read.” The man’s eyes swept down onto the white table cloth.
Glancing down at the two journals sitting unobtrusively on the surface of the table, Calogero looked between each of them. The first one was closed, and the second was still opened to the last page. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped the back of the journal shut. “Unfortunately, they are not the complete volumes I was expecting.”
“There is a library in the hotel, sir,” the waiter informed him. “I can enquire with them to see if the last volume is there for you to read?”
Calogero laughed without humor. “If it were only that easy.” He looked up at the sound of boots clipping on the floor of the restaurant. He saw one of his men enter the private dining area and head straight toward him. “Leave,” he directed the waiter.
The man bowed profusely and did as instructed, a look of relief flashing across his face.
Bussoni, Calogero’s right-hand man, walked across the space and came to stand at the foot of the table.
“We have two problems, sir,” was his greeting.
Calogero appreciated the man’s lack of small talk. “Tell me the first.”
“Mr. Bartardi’s shop is swarming with carabinieri police. I could not get close to search it for the third journal.”
Calogero slammed a fist down onto the table. “Dannazione!” he swore. “I could kill that antiquities dealer all over again for not telling me there was a third one.” He could still feel the rage course through him from when he’d seen references to a third journal scribbled in Isabella’s notes. Infuriating! “We must find that journal, Bussoni. It is imperative.”
The man hastily nodded his head. “I overheard the carabinieri say that they are looking for a man and a woman who may have had something to do with Bartardi’s death.”
A man and woman? How interesting. “Why would they think such a thing?”
“There were two sets of footprints found near Bartardi’s body.”
Calogero rubbed at the smooth skin of his chin. “I certainly left no footprints. I wonder if whoever did so also found the third journal?”
“I’m not sure, sir. But it was the lieutenant of the carabinieri himself whom I overheard saying he is also looking for the journals.”
“This is a further complication I do not need.” He took another bite of his steak and chewed on the meat scrupulously. “One wonders how he found out about them? Nevertheless, what is the second problem?”
“The Garendetta are also after the journals.”
Calogero picked up the white napkin from his lap and dabbed at the corners of his mouth, feeling a cold rage burn low in his belly. “How does everyone suddenly know about these journals? How did the Garendetta find out about them, Bussoni?”
“My sources within their organization tell me the Cosenza group have kidnapped an Englishman by the name of Travis Penderley,” Bussoni stated. “Apparently, Penderley visited with Guiseppi Tarboli, in Cosenza, after we had already left for Naples.”
“Do not tell me that antiquities dealer, Mr. Tarboli, was stupid enough to share the information he gave us with the Garendetta, too?” Calogero asked.
“He was. Thus the Garendetta have kidnapped Travis Penderley and have sent a semaphore message to their comrades here to either find the journals or, failing that, to leave a ransom note with their owner, a Miss Brianna Penderley. Apparently, she must deliver the journals to them in Cosenza within a fortnight, or Penderley will be killed.”
Calogero sat back and regarded Bussoni. “Yes, I found out Miss Penderley was alive when I spoke with Bartardi. I need to know where she is staying.”
“I have already begun making enquiries. My sources say that a lady and an Englishman were sighted near Bartardi’s shop in the early hours of this morning. I would say these are the two the carabinieri are also looking for, along with the Garendetta.”
“Ah, the pieces are beginning to fit.” Calogero took a sip of his coffee and then sighed. The flavor of the liquid itself he couldn’t taste, nor could he feel the smooth warmth down his throat, but he liked to imagine it tasted delightful. “You must find and then follow Miss Penderley and retrieve the last journal. Then kill her and anyone who knows of the journal. No mistakes. Am I clear? I must head straight back after my meeting later today.”
“Of course, sir,” Bussoni said with a sharp nod of his head. “You think she has the journal?”
“I daresay she and this Englishman were the ones who left footprints at Bartardi’s shop. It is too coincidental that a lady and gentleman were seen in the vicinity otherwise. The carabinieri should be finished with his shop now, so I myself will return and confirm if the journal is there or not. And if it is not there, as I suspect, then I think there is an excellent chance that the bastarda, Miss Penderley, may have it.”
“The Garendetta may be a problem if they are searching for Miss Penderley and the journal, too,” Bussoni added.
“They will not.” Calogero hadn’t hand chosen the leader of the entire organization all those years ago without having first ensured the man was indebted to him. “I will send a semaphore to the leader of the group and also arrange for a meeting with the head of the Naples section. Trust me, they will not interfere but will assist you instead.”
A thoughtful look graced Bussoni’s face. “Do you wish me to dispose of Mr. Tarboli when I return to Cosenza?”
“No.” Calogero pushed back from his chair and stood. “I will teach Mr. Tarboli what happens to someone when they betray me.”
…
The British Embassy, Naples Italy
“Good to see you, old chap.”
Daniel took the proffered hand and shook it heartily. Samuel Boyd had been a good friend over the years and an even better ally in the game of intrigue. The man was trustworthy, had a web of contacts everywhere, and could be depended upon in a pinch. All extremely handy traits for a spy, and ones Daniel was hoping to make good use of before he rushed off to save Travis. In fact, he would need to enlist the man’s help before he and Brianna could leave Naples. Lady Penderley had made certain of that.
“It is good to see you, too,” Daniel acknowledged as he took as seat in the armchair across from Samuel. “The British embassy here in Naples seems to suit you, my friend.”
“For the time being, it does, though it’s losing its charms somewhat. I have been here for six months, after all, and you know how I dislike being in any one place for too long,” Samuel replied. “Though I’ve only just returned from a trip to Spain, which was a nice diversion. I was able to take in the scenery for a few days before I returned here. Care for a brandy?”
“Please.” Daniel could only guess at the sort of scenery Samuel was alluding to. The man was never short of a lady’s compa
ny.
Plucking the top off the crystal decanter, Samuel poured a neat shot into a spare glass. He handed it to Daniel. “To old times.”
Raising the glass, Daniel clinked its edge against Samuel’s and took a healthy swallow. The rich, amber fluid was smooth down his throat. “Impressive vintage.”
“I do adore French brandy. Bloody good stuff.” Samuel relaxed back in his chair and regarded Daniel. “I got your note after you arrived in Naples yesterday, and I’ve gotten the information as requested. You do love to become involved in Miss Penderley’s tangles, don’t you?”
“You can thank Sir Walter for that. And ‘love’ isn’t quite the word I’d use.”
Samuel chuckled. “Yes, myself and the others at the War Office are more than happy he selects you for those particularly delicate missions involving his niece.”
“I bet you all are,” Daniel grumbled.
Samuel’s smile dropped. “But in all seriousness, though, there is some additional intelligence that has come through. Rather troubling news to suggest that the Garendetta have kidnapped Travis Penderley.”
Daniel was not surprised Samuel knew that bit of news already. “Still as remarkably well-informed as usual. I would have been disappointed if you had not have been.”
“You know I do not like to disappoint.” Sam grinned at him. “My sources have been very busy since yesterday.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Daniel said. “But I already know about Travis.”
The man laughed. “Of course you do…”
“I shall be interested to know what your sources say of the situation with Travis and the Garendetta.” Daniel sat back and took another sip.
Samuel shrugged. “Not a great deal, I’m afraid. He was kidnapped by the Cosenza branch of the Garendetta maybe two or so days ago. They then sent word to their compatriots here in Naples via the semaphore lines.”
“They still use those old towers with shutters to communicate messages?”
“This is Italy,” Samuel reminded him. “Things move a great deal slower here, and though the telegraph is gradually progressing south, it certainly hasn’t reached into the Calabria region yet. So, everyone, at least in the south, must still rely on the semaphore system to relay fast messages.”
“Is it accurate?”
“Like a manual telegraph, my friend. And relatively quick, too. For example, we can have a message here from Cosenza within one hour of the system being deployed.”
Daniel had read about the semaphore telegraph, which was a rather simple system of relay towers, within a line of sight of each other, that used the shutters in various fixed positions to spell out messages. The operators in the neighboring tower would watch the other through a spyglass, and when the shutters began to move, they would note the message conveyed and then pass it on to the next tower, until it reached its destination. A basic yet highly effective system, particularly over long distances, as the messages could be transmitted a great deal quicker than any rider could carry them. “And what was the message the Garendetta sent?”
“That, I do not know,” Samuel’s normally jovial face turned very somber. “But they are deadly serious about finding some journals apparently, which rumor has it, contain the location to the lost treasure of King Aleric.”
“You know a fair deal about the situation.” Daniel took another sip and regarded his friend over the rim.
“The fabled lost treasure has been sought for centuries. It’s bound to create a stir when rumors surface that its location has possibly been discovered.”
“Can you get word to Sir Walter of the situation?” Daniel asked. “He needs to know about Travis.”
“I shall see to it.” Samuel stood and walked over to the desk. He picked up a special courier satchel, which the War Office insisted all documents be carried in. The material of the bag was made using a similar process to that applied in Mackintosh raincoats, and thus had a water-proofed layer of treated rubber inside, ensuring the papers it contained retained their integrity, regardless of any bad weather. Samuel opened it and retrieved some papers from it before bringing them over to Daniel. “Here, you’ll need to know about everyone involved in the game.”
The pages contained dossiers on several men. He quickly flicked through them and then looked up at Samuel. “What do these men have to do with Brianna or Travis and the Garendetta?”
“The first is Lieutenant Matteo Vieretti from one of the regiments of the carabinieri,” Samuel explained. “I don’t know why, but he has been asking after the treasure and, my sources tell me, has a great interest in finding it.”
“That would explain the carabinieri turning up at Bartardi’s shop.”
At his blank look, Daniel quickly filled him in on the events of the evening. “Now, what about the other men?”
“Well, they don’t have anything to do with Travis or the lost treasure,” Samuel began, “but you had originally asked for information regarding Miss Penderley’s fiancés.”
Daniel thumbed through the pages. There were some details of the ruler of the Cosenza region, a Prince Alberto from the house of Bartelli, and what looked to be his nephew and heir, Giocomo Roccasa of the house of Sorentio.
“What does this have to do with anything relating to Brianna?” Daniel asked him.
“I thought it might be worth your while knowing that your Miss Penderley is not, in fact, just plain Miss Penderley.”
When was Miss Penderley ever just plain Miss Penderley? Never, in Daniel’s experience. The woman could get up to more mischief than a barn full of mice while the cat was away. “What do you mean? And why is there a sketch in here of Brianna?”
“It’s not of Brianna. Look farther down the prince’s dossier,” Samuel urged him.
Skimming down the page, Daniel saw that it detailed the Prince’s offspring: one female named Principessa Isabella who died in 1834 along with her husband and her baby daughter Brianna Elizabeta Maria Penderley…
His gaze flew up to Samuel’s. “Her mother was a princess?”
“Yes,” Samuel confirmed.
“And the drawing is of her mother?”
Samuel took a sip of his drink before answering. “Yes. But everyone in Cosenza thought Brianna died along with her parents. Except now that she’s not dead, things will change greatly.”
Daniel paused in his reading and eyed Samuel. “In what way?”
“The rules of inheritance in Cosenza differ from those in England.”
“How so?” Daniel asked.
“The female line can inherit. Her mother was actually next in line to the throne before her death. Thus, Miss Penderley is also in fact Principessa Brianna, which makes her—”
“The heir to Cosenza,” Daniel finished for him.
“Exactly.”
“What is the political climate of Cosenza like?”
Samuel took a sip of his drink. “Well, as you know, there is a great cry that the small principalities and provinces scattered throughout Italy should all unite together as one country. However, many of the smaller dukedoms and principalities have resisted this idea, for then they would lose the power to rule over their own small provinces. Cosenza is in a similar situation. In addition, its people love their prince, and most are reluctant for any change. It helps that the prince provides extremely well for his citizens.”
“How wealthy a kingdom is Cosenza?”
“Extremely,” Samuel replied. “It may be small, but the prince’s riches are well known.”
“Her two fiancés’ sudden proposals are beginning to make more sense.” Daniel exhaled. Money was a great motivator for marriage. But how had they known that Brianna was the principessa’s daughter? Especially if everyone thought she’d died along with her parents.
“It makes sense when you consider who the men’s fathers are.”
He looked at Samuel sharply. “And who would they be?”
“The first fiancé is Gabriele Roccasa, and his father is—”
“Giocomo
Roccasa,” Daniel interrupted, recognizing the surname from one of the dossiers he’d just read. “The current heir to Cosenza.”
“Indeed,” Samuel agreed. “The second fiancé’s name is Lanseko Di Marchetta, whose father is the Duke of Siprezino. The Duke is the ruler of a neighboring province and was betrothed to Brianna’s mother before she ran off and married Edward Penderley.”
“Good God, it seems Brianna is not the only woman in her family who knows how to get herself into a mess, doesn’t it?” The whole situation was confusing. And how was he going to tell Brianna she was a princess? She was distracted enough already worrying about Travis. He didn’t want to add to her woes. He needed her focused for this trip.
“A very good thing she has you to help clean them up.” Samuel relaxed back against the back of his walnut chair, an air of smugness abounding in the slight twist of his lips. “And lucky for me, it was anticipated I would still be in Spain when Sir Walter was handing out that assignment.”
“Don’t be too cocky, old friend,” Daniel warned him. “You’re going to be helping, too.”
Samuel’s relaxed manner disappeared. “How so?”
“Gather some men you trust and who know how to handle themselves, for they will be accompanying you on your trip.”
“And just what sort of trip am I to be taking?” he asked, suspicion laced in his tone.
“A delightful journey accompanying Lady Penderley and her daughter Miss Amelia, as you follow Brianna and me to Cosenza.”
Samuel choked on the sip of brandy he’d just drunk. “You cannot be serious.”
“Completely.” Now it was Daniel’s turn to relax back in his chair, if only for a minute. “You did say you were bored, after all, did you not?”
The Elusive Earl (Saints & Scoundrels) Page 8