The Elusive Earl (Saints & Scoundrels)

by Michaels, Maddison

  For a second, he felt chagrined, apparently being the only one of them affected by the touch.

  Marco, who with Alessandro’s absence was now in charge of the soldiers, reined his horse up next to them. “I will leave some of my men outside, while some will stay in the lobby and outside of your room to guard you, Principessa.”

  “That simply will not do!” Bree declared. “How will we get word of Travis with you lot surrounding us?”

  “My captain said you are not to be left unprotected.” A deep frown creased the brow of the man’s face.

  Bree looked up at him, her blue eyes pleading. “Marco, please, you know it is my cousin’s life we are talking about. We cannot take any risks of not receiving word of where he is. Surely, there must be some way to protect me without being too obvious?”

  Marco tugged at his tunic. “Well, I’m not certain about that, Principessa… Mayhap, I can relent on having a guard outside of your bedroom, as long as the earl is with you, of course,” he hurried to add. “But I still think we must deter any would-be kidnappers and show a strong presence both out the front and in the lobby.”

  “That will be acceptable.” Bree smiled up at him. “But will you at least allow us to check in without your presence in the lobby?”

  Marco nodded. “Yes, of course, Principessa.”

  “I knew you, of all people, could come up with a solution,” she said, lavishing praise on Marco.

  Daniel rolled his eyes at the look of adoration that washed over the young man’s face before he hurried off toward the other soldiers.

  Bree swept her skirt up slightly and walked to the doorway. Daniel followed her into the entrance hall of the small establishment, the bell on the door tinkling as it announced their approach.

  A woman standing behind the wooden counter to his right scribbled into a ledger before she glanced suspiciously up at them. She was wearing a black dress and had her equally dark hair swept tightly into a bun at the nape of her neck.

  “Sì?” she asked, her face crinkling into a frown, seemingly annoyed at the interruption.

  “Ci piacerebbe—”

  “I speak English,” she interrupted him, her eyes boldly assessing him before turning to stare at Brianna. They narrowed slightly. “You look familiar to me…”

  “Yes, I have been hearing that a lot lately.” Bree sighed.

  “We would like a room,” Daniel said, his words bringing the woman’s attention back to him as he stepped up to the counter.

  “It will be two bronze coins per night, including breakfast,” she replied before glancing over at Bree anew.

  “Might I ask if a Mr. Penderley stayed here at all?” Bree said.

  “Well, yes, he did.” The woman looked slightly taken aback. “And you look suspiciously like him. Are you related?”

  “He’s my cousin.”

  She perked up at this and jabbed a finger at Bree. “Then you can make good on his unpaid bill!”

  “What happened?” Daniel asked.

  The woman shrugged. “He disappeared one night after he left to go visit Mr. Tarboli and then never returned.”

  “Mr. Tarboli? The local antiquities dealer?” Bree asked.

  “Yes, that’s him,” the woman replied. “Your cousin was rather vocal about looking for King Aleric’s treasure. Though, that’s not unusual. We get many adventure seekers looking for it, but no one has found it yet. Mr. Tarboli considers himself an expert regarding the legend.”

  “But what happened with Travis?” Daniel asked, with barely disguised impatience, in an attempt to steer the woman back on track.

  She scowled at him but then continued her story. “Like I said, he disappeared. When he did not show up at breakfast, my husband went to check his room and found it empty, all of his belongings gone, and his bill completely unpaid!”

  “How much does he owe you for the accommodation?”

  The woman scowled cagily at him. “Ten silver coins.”

  Bree gasped beside him. “That’s outrageous! He couldn’t have been here long enough to amass such a bill.”

  The woman gave a half shrug. “He was here for two weeks, but obviously I have had to add interest on to his debt, for the inconvenience caused.”

  Daniel pulled out a small pouch from his jacket pocket. “Here are twenty silver pieces.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, and she reached her hand out to snatch the pouch from him.

  He let her take it. She opened it and quickly peered inside. “That should cover not only his bill, but a few nights’ accommodation and meals for us, now shouldn’t it?” he asked.

  The woman bobbed her head up and down, all of her previous surliness gone. “You shall have the best room in the inn. Is it the one room or two that you will be needing?”

  “One room,” Daniel informed her as he leaned in over the counter, wearing his most fearsome scowl.

  “And preferably one facing the rear of the inn,” Bree added.

  “Of course,” the woman readily agreed.

  “Before you give us the key,” he said. “I want you to tell me of what involvement this establishment has with the Garendetta?”

  A slightly panicked expression appeared on her face, and she began uselessly shuffling papers. “There is no Garendetta association here. I can assure you of that.”

  “Then why did they tell my wife to find a room here and wait for their instructions to be delivered by the innkeeper after having kidnapped Travis Penderley?”

  The woman’s mouth opened and closed in quick succession, making her look like a fish. “This is the main hotel in the town,” she finally managed to utter. “It would be unlikely you would stay anywhere else. And, of course, we deliver to our guests any messages we receive on their behalf at the reception.”

  “Let us hope so, for your sake,” Daniel warned. “Because my wife is not only under my protection, but the Prince’s, too.”

  “The Prince?” The woman’s face blanched of all color.

  “Yes. You see out there in the street?” He gestured with his chin at the windows behind him.

  The woman’s gaze flicked over his shoulder, in the direction he’d indicated, to where soldiers stood outside one of the windows. “Oh mio Signore!” Her movements became panicked. She placed a hand on her collarbone, and her breathing grew rapid. “The Prince, he hates the Garendetta.”

  “That’s becoming obvious,” Bree said.

  “You must let the Prince’s men know we are not associated with the Garendetta,” the woman pleaded. “Truly we are not. We may get some of them staying here from time to time, though we do not ask if they are Garendetta or not. It is easy enough to spot.”

  “Are there any of them staying here now?” he asked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “But if they wish to stay here, we cannot exclude them, or they would make our lives miserable. Please, you must make this known to the Prince and his men. We are loyal to Cosenza and the house of Bartelli.”

  Daniel paused and regarded the woman steadily. “I will do so, provided you ensure I am made instantly aware if there are any Garendetta who arrive or any messages received for my wife. Do we understand each other?”

  She briskly nodded her head. “Yes. I will be sure to inform you of anything. I can tell you that a man has been coming in here each day over the past three days, at around dinner time, asking if any English travelers have arrived yet.”

  “Is he Garendetta?” Daniel questioned.

  “I don’t know,” the woman replied. “But he’s not from Cosenza. If he comes again today, what should I tell him?”

  “The truth,” Daniel stated. “Hopefully then he will leave a message for us with you.”

  The woman nodded before turning around and pulling a key off one of the hooks on the wall. “Here is your room key. It is room twenty and faces the back gardens, as requested.”

  Daniel took the key from her outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

  “Go up the stairs, and turn to the rig
ht. It is last room at the end of the corridor.”

  “Where is Mr. Tarboli located?” Bree asked the woman as Daniel turned toward the stairway.

  “If you head up the hill, look for the second street to the left, Via Isonzo,” the woman replied. “His shop is halfway down, and you will not miss it, for the dust on the statues in the window is very thick.”

  Daniel gave Bree a questioning look, and she merely shrugged back at him. He shook his head, wondering how on earth she thought they might get past all the guards to pay Mr. Tarboli a visit if that’s what she was planning.

  He led the way up the stairs and along the corridor until they stood outside of the room. Sliding the key into the lock, Daniel twisted it and opened the door.

  It was a simple room but looked clean and tidy. “My lady,” he motioned Brianna inside.

  She sailed passed him and wandered across the space, heading straight to the window overlooking what he assumed were the back gardens. He closed and locked the door before turning back to face inside. There was a brown lounge and a small dining table, and in the middle of the space was a large bed. He didn’t even want to think about the torture he would be in, spending another night alone with her.

  “This will do nicely,” she said, her voice breaking through his thoughts.

  He turned toward her and saw she was peering out the glass window.

  Daniel felt the pulse in his neck twitch. “For what?”

  Bree turned back to him. “Obviously, we have to go and see Mr. Tarboli. He is potentially the last man to see Travis before he was kidnapped and may have been the one to inform Mr. Bartardi’s killer of the journals. We must find out what Mr. Tarboli knows. Besides, we have a few hours to spare until dinnertime when that man may arrive with a message. I think we would be best spent seeing what we can discover, rather than waiting here and doing nothing. Don’t you agree?”

  “Perhaps.” Daniel had to work hard to keep from saying something he might regret. “But I hope you’re not thinking of climbing down the window by yourself to do so.”

  “No,” she began. “You shall accompany me, of course.”

  “I’m not climbing down a bloody window like a twelve-year-old child,” he said, doing his best to make his voice firm.

  “Then how do you suggest we get past Marco and the other guards stationed in the lobby and out on the front street?” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.

  She made a good point, though he loathed to admit it. “Damn it, we should just wait here. What if we miss word from the Garendetta?”

  “Do you not think that man asking about English travelers is from the Garendetta, then?”

  “The odds are highly likely he is.”

  “Then there is nothing to be concerned about. We have a few hours until he arrives.” Bree gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “And besides, you have already scared the lady downstairs into ensuring she passes along any messages for us. And you know we must speak to Mr. Tarboli.”

  A large sigh escaped his lips. “I can’t believe I am agreeing with you.”

  “You’ve finally seen sense.” Her grin grew wider as she unlatched the window and hiked up her skirt. She raised a brow. “Are you coming?”

  “God help me, but yes.”

  She winked at him. “It will be fun, I promise.”

  Shaking his head, he watched as she swung herself over the windowsill and onto the ledge outside of the wall with ease. Obviously, she’d had lots of practice climbing in and out of buildings. And now she’d managed to convince him to do so, too. How had that happened?

  He swung his own leg out the window and realized with mortification that for the first time in years, he was enjoying doing the unexpected, with the very woman who had made his life chaotic.

  But this time, he realized with clarity, she was actually rescuing him. Rescuing him from his routine and rigid existence. Rescuing him from his well-ordered lifestyle and self-imposed solitude. Rescuing him from himself.

  The thought terrified him.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Alessandro stepped through the front entrance of the palace, the heels of his boots ringing in a crisp staccato against the marble floors beneath as he strode across the open expanse toward the grand staircase ahead. The steps themselves were covered across the middle with a royal red runner that curved up along each stair to both the first and second floor landings.

  The palace was sparkling, with the light streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows showing not a shred of dust or dirt in any crevice.

  As much as it was good to be home, he was already anticipating the disappointment that would grace the Prince’s face when he heard that his granddaughter had refused to come to the palace and meet him in the first instance.

  Making his way up to the first floor, Alessandro hurried down the hallway to the Prince’s study, certain that it was where he could be found at this time of the day.

  As he approached the room, he could hear raised voices coming from behind the closed door. His brow furrowed. “Who is in there with him?” he asked the two footman standing to attention at the room’s entrance.

  “The Duke of Dorentia and Lord Mondesta,” one of the men rushed to say. “The duke barged in on our Prince and Lord Mondesta a short time ago.”

  Alessandro nodded as the other footman opened the door for him. Striding into the room, he quickly scanned the tableau.

  Sitting behind his desk was the Prince, who had a resigned expression on his face, and across from him on one of the two chairs was Lord Mondesta, the Prince’s man of affairs, who had worked for the palace for as long as Alessandro could remember. The Prince’s nephew and heir presumptive, the Duke of Dorentia, paced along the carpet with an angry flush on his ruddy cheeks.

  Alessandro was glad to see that there were also two of his guards standing behind the Prince. He nodded in acknowledgment to them both.

  The duke regarded Alessandro shrewdly. “You’re finally back then! So, where is this imposter Principessa?” he boomed, the sound reverberating loudly in the room.

  Alessandro pointedly ignored Dorentia, instead crossing over the rug to come to a halt beside the Prince. “My liege.” He bowed low.

  “Impertinent as usual,” Dorentia scoffed as he barreled over to sit in the empty seat beside Lord Mondesta. “But what else can be expected from my bastardo cousin.”

  “Alessandro is no bastard, Dorentia,” Lord Mondesta calmly spoke up. “His father married legitimately.”

  “Yes, but his father was a bastardo,” Dorentia scoffed. “And he has the same bastardo blood running through his veins.”

  “One would think you would be grateful for that fact, Dorentia.” The Prince’s voice held a hint of censure. “If my brother had married, then Alessandro’s father would have been legitimate, and hence Alessandro would be prince.”

  Dorentia looked ill at the suggestion. He swiveled his eyes across to Alessandro. “Perhaps, Captain, you can advise us all of where this imposter Principessa is? You were meant to retrieve her, were you not?”

  “Yes, Alessandro?” The Prince turned his pale brown eyes toward him and beckoned him closer. “What of my granddaughter? Where is she?”

  “We do not know she is your granddaughter yet, Uncle,” Dorentia interrupted.

  The Prince flashed eyes of fire at the duke. “Do you think I have ruled this principality for all of these years by being ignorant or stupid?”

  “Well…no, Uncle…” Dorentia tried to placate him. “It is simply that I am concerned you may become attached to someone who is deceiving you and trying to get her hands on my lands.”

  “Your lands, nephew?” the Prince asked softly.

  Dorentia hastily gulped. “Of course, they are your lands, Uncle. I simply love them like my own.”

  “You certainly love the coffers of the land, Dorentia,” Lord Mondesta blithely added.

  Alessandro grinned over at his friend while Dorentia glared daggers at Mondesta but wise
ly said nothing. Everyone knew that Lord Mondesta had the ear of the Prince and was in charge of handing out Dorentia’s income. Probably why Dorentia said nothing when Mondesta called him by his name in such a familiar fashion.

  Dorentia turned his attention back to the Prince. “Am I the only one who wishes to seek the truth of the matter?”

  “Do you think I have not had my men investigating?” The Prince’s normally gentle voice was sharp with censure.

  “Well, I wasn’t certain.” Dorentia smoothed a pudgy hand over his slick, black hair, which was thinning at the back.

  “She is legitimate, Dorentia,” Lord Mondesto spoke up. “We have confirmed it through various sources. Miss Brianna Penderley is indeed the late Principessa Isabella’s daughter. There is no doubt.”

  Alessandro watched as what could only be panic crept into the duke’s beady, brown eyes. “That will mean that the Duke of Siprezino will try to enforce the betrothal contract and finally get his greedy paws on my—on our beautiful Cosenza.”

  “The Principessa is already married,” Alessandro’s deep voice reverberated through the room.

  “Married?” Lord Mondesta said. “But that cannot be… My sources across the region were very clear that she has no husband. Why, I only just returned from speaking with them this morning.”

  “Who is she married to?” the Prince questioned.

  “An English nobleman, the Earl of Thornton.”

  “Two foreigners ruling Cosenza?” The Duke of Dorentia’s voice was strangled. “I would have preferred Siprezino. God help us all.”

  “Perhaps it is some sort of ruse?” Lord Mondesta suggested. “To give her some measure of protection?”

  “It is no ruse,” Alessandro confirmed. “I was witness to the ceremony myself.”

  “You fool!” Dorentia screamed. “Why would you do that?”

  “Calm down,” Lord Mondesta cautioned Dorentia. He turned and looked at Alessandro. “He has a point though, Captain. Why did you allow such a thing to take place, when the Prince is the only one who can give his permission for the Principessa to marry?”

  “They were already married in England.” Alessandro noticed that the Prince was unusually quiet. He looked toward his liege. “They wanted to ensure their marriage would also be recognized in Italy, my Prince. It was not my place to stop them.”