The door opened and Potter, Hal’s butler, entered the room with a silver salver balanced on one outstretched arm. “An express just arrived for you, my lord.”
“Thank you, Potter. That will be all.” As the door closed again behind Potter, Hal stared at the letter. “This is Rob’s hand. What the devil?”
Hal broke the seal, feeling distinctly uneasy. He quickly scanned the contents of Rob’s note, and swore beneath his breath.
“What is it?” Leah asked.
“See for yourself.”
Whilst Leah read, Hal mulled over Rob’s disclosure.
“I should have anticipated something of this nature,” he said.
“Why? I don’t understand.”
“My recent trip to Sicily was no secret, nor was the reason for it. The recommendations I make to the government as a result of it would be worth a fortune in the wrong hands.”
“What were your recommendations and why are they so valuable to others?”
“The docks in Palermo weren’t in good condition when we British left them at the end of the war. That isn’t necessarily our fault, but the least we can do to express our gratitude is to pay for their repair, and I’ve said as much in my report.”
“That would be a large contract,” Leah said. “Anyone knowing about it in advance would have the time to prepare a bid and grease the right palms here in England to enhance their chances of winning it.”
“Precisely. There are other recommendations, too. The importation of Sicilian wines and olive oil being just two of them. Both trades have suffered as a result of the war preventing exports. Any enterprising soul with early intelligence of our intentions could negotiate export agreements with struggling farmers, who would jump at the chance to improve their circumstances.”
“Yes, I can see how sensitive advance knowledge of British intentions would be, but no one knew Rob was delivering your report to Mr. Turner.”
“No, but anyone wishing to get their hands on it would have made enquiries, know about your condition and my reluctance to leave you so close to your time. It makes sense that someone I trust would deliver my report for me, especially if that someone was on his way to play chess with Turner.”
Leah nodded. “Now I begin to understand.”
“Rob was delighted when he heard the contessa had finally agreed to come to England. And I was so wrapped up in my domestic affairs that her being Sicilian didn’t ring the warning bells it ought to have done. God’s teeth, my brains are becoming addled in my old age!”
“You ought to go to Dartmouth and resolve the matter for yourself.”
“With you like this?” Hal shook his head. “Out of the question.”
“There’s nothing I need you for now,” she said, patting her stomach. “You’ve played your part.”
“Witch!” Hal smiled in spite of himself. “Turner needs to be warned that he shouldn’t go anywhere near Billingham’s estate.”
“Why not? There’s no report to be stolen since Rob carries it in his head.”
“Yes, but whoever’s trying to obtain it doesn’t know that. If the contessa fails to get her hands on it, which she obviously will, the villains might be desperate enough to attack Turner.”
“Could it really be that serious?”
“I fear so.” Hal scowled. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Then you must get word to Turner. Presumably you know where he is.”
“Yes. I’ll also write the false report that Rob suggests.”
“I’m disappointed the contessa hasn’t proven to be trustworthy.”
“Rob appears to think she’s being coerced in some way, but that’s just his opinion. He’s been honest enough to admit that all the evidence points the other way.”
Leah nibbled the end of her index finger and then flashed a speculative grin. “He also seems very keen to defend her.”
“Matchmaking again, my lady?”
Her smile lit her eyes. “Merely making an observation, my lord.”
“Unless a lady has a decent chess brain she’ll be of no interest to Rob. Even if she has, if she’s working against British interests, then she won’t suit Rob.”
“I hear that the contessa has a remarkable chess brain and that she’s extremely beautiful.”
Hal tweaked her nose. “Even so, Rob’s as patriotic as I am, so it won’t serve.”
“It doesn’t do to jump to conclusions, Hal. Personally I’d enjoy meeting her and deciding for myself. I’ve never met a Sicilian.”
“I would suggest that Rob returns here with the contessa so I can control this matter for myself, except that...” He indicated Leah’s swollen stomach with a wave of one hand.
“Don’t you dare make those sorts of allowances on my behalf! I still have several weeks to go and I’m as fit as a flea.”
“No, it’s too dangerous. She is involved, whether voluntarily or not is another matter, but where she goes, danger is bound to follow.”
“Why not let Rob decide. Suggest he returns here with her if he feels it’s appropriate. Gabe will be here by then, and what damage can one woman do against all three Forster brothers?”
Hal felt conflicted between duty and his personal interests. “Very well then,” he said reluctantly. “If you’re entirely sure. I’d best write to Rob and make a few suggestions of my own.”
Chapter Six
The following day was fully taken up with Sophia’s programme of entertainments, leaving little opportunity for Rob and the contessa to exchange more than the briefest of public greetings. It also brought a response from Hal. After reading his brother’s suggestions, Rob laid his plans accordingly, making a few adaptations along the way.
La Contessa, far from trying to cultivate his friendship, appeared to be avoiding him. Either she didn’t enjoy his society or was suffering from a crisis of conscience. After the enthusiastic way in which she’d responded to his kiss, Rob hadn’t thought she actually disliked him. Her conduct today forced him to reconsider.
“Serves you right for being so damned sure of yourself,” he muttered.
Rob sought refuge from the young ladies still pursuing him by retreating to the library. He sat beside the open window, alternately reading and thinking about the contessa, unable to decide if she was the villain of the piece or an innocent pawn in some sophisticated game of statesmanship.
He smiled at the sight of Sophia and some other ladies who appeared on the lawn immediately outside the library window. Sophia’s romping brood was with them, tumbling about like puppies with energy to burn. Contessa Falzone wasn’t with them but, as though summoned by the power of his thoughts, she suddenly appeared. With a parasol tipped over one shoulder at a jaunty angle, a flimsy excuse for a bonnet perched on top of her curls, she looked lethally enchanting.
“Looks can be deceiving,” he told the book-lined walls, continuing to watch her with interest.
A little boy of no more than eighteen months tottered up to her on podgy legs, offering her a flower that he’d plucked without bothering to include the stem. She bent down and solemnly accepted the gift from him, before sweeping him into her arms and swinging him wildly in the air. The child cried with delight, but his smile wasn’t as broad as the contessa’s. After repeating the action several times at the child’s loud request, she eventually placed him back on his feet and he scampered off to join his mama. The contessa turned away, close enough to his window for Rob to see her face.
She was crying.
What the devil was that all about? They weren’t tears of pleasure because Rob could see that she was genuinely devastated. Every interaction Rob enjoyed with the contessa threw up more questions than answers.
She came into the library shortly after that, let out a small exclamation when she saw him there and left
again without saying a word. She removed herself so quickly that were it not for the aroma of gardenias she left behind her, he might have thought he’d imagined her presence.
* * *
“We’re to dine al fresco this evening,” Rob told Bowker as he tied his neckcloth in a flamboyant waterfall. “Which means everything will be far less formal.”
“Providing the perfect opportunity for the contessa to slip away and search this room.”
“Precisely.” Rob grinned, his spirits inexplicably high in spite of the gravity of the situation. “What say you, Bowker? Shall we make it easy for her?”
“Don’t know what you’re asking me for.” Bowker pulled a martyred expression. “You’ll do what you think best, just like always.”
Rob picked up the fake report Hal had sent addressed to Turner and thought about where to conceal it. In the end he placed it in the bottom of a valise containing neck cloths and shirts.
“Nothing too obvious about that,” he said. “But she’ll still find it without much trouble.”
“Shouldn’t wonder.”
“She must know Turner’s due to arrive on Monday. That only leaves her tonight and tomorrow to steal the report. Tomorrow night is a grand dinner, and her absence would be noticed.” Rob shook his head. “No, she’ll have to act tonight.”
“Or during the day tomorrow.”
“That would be riskier, what with servants in and out of the rooms all the time. She’ll know the best time to move about unnoticed would be during dinner, when the servants have discharged their duties and are enjoying their own meal.”
“Makes sense, I suppose.” Bowker sniffed as he thought about it. “Except that she ain’t exactly invisible herself. The talk below stairs is that half the gentlemen here think she’s a prime piece.”
“The devil they do!”
Bowker smirked. “All I’m saying is, she can’t disappear for long without people wondering where she’s got to.”
“Do you have any news for me from the servants’ hall?”
“Yes, Lord Billingham’s valet and I had a nice little chat.” Bowker held out his coat, and Rob slid his arms into it. “We chose a quiet corner but it just so happened that the old harridan who looks after the contessa was close by.”
“How convenient.”
“I aim to please,” Bowker replied. “Her ladyship’s maid overheard me tell Lord Billingham’s man that we were mighty glad to have arrived without mishap. You have some important papers to pass on to another guest and were afraid someone might try to relieve you of them.”
“How did he reply?”
“He seemed affronted by the suggestion that anyone would steal anything in this house. Took it personally, so he did. I had to smooth a few ruffled feathers but we’re the best of friends again now.”
“And you’re sure the contessa’s maid overheard the exchange?”
“Absolutely sure.”
Rob flashed a raffish grin. “Well then, we’ve done everything we can to nudge her in the right direction.”
“I’m sure the contessa will be much obliged to you,” Bowker said, grinning.
“One can but hope, Bowker. One can but hope.”
“Have a care, m’lord. She’s deuced attractive, I’ll grant you that, what with her being all exotic and foreign, like. But we don’t really know what game she’s playing, or who’s pulling her strings. It might be dangerous.”
“Precisely my point. My duty is to the marquess and so I owe it to him to find answers to those questions.”
Bowker rolled his eyes. “Duty can be the very devil.”
“And as to danger...well, if the contessa wishes to cross swords with me, then it’s she who would be wise to have a care.”
“I give up. Ain’t no point trying to talk sense into you when a beautiful woman’s involved.”
Rob grinned. “Probably not.”
He left his chamber and joined the rest of Charles’s guests assembled on the terrace. His gaze roamed over the well-coiffured heads until it fell upon the contessa. She was wearing midnight blue this evening, with some sort of spangled overskirt that caught the light each time she moved. It was a colour that enhanced her Mediterranean complexion and heightened her beauty, setting her apart from the rest of the ladies. That wasn’t saying much, Rob conceded with a wry smile. From his perspective she could wear a sack, or better yet nothing at all, and still eclipse her sisters.
Damn it, don’t let her be a spy.
She looked up as he stepped through the French doors, as though sensing his presence, and didn’t look away again. She was surrounded by gentlemen, some of whom appeared single-minded in their determination to monopolize her. Rob chose to interpret her expression as a cry for help, which was all the invitation he required. He cut a path through the throng, anxious to reach her side, barely acknowledging some of the greetings sent his way. He was conscious of Sophia’s deeply intuitive gaze following his movements, but even Sophia’s mental matchmaking was insufficient to deter him from his purpose.
“Contessa.” He inclined his head. “We’ve barely had time to exchange a single word today.”
“Lady Billingham has kept us too well entertained, my lord.”
“Indeed, but now you gentlemen must excuse us.” He swept her band of admirers with his gaze. “I have something important to discuss with the contessa.”
“I say, Forster, that’s coming it a bit strong.”
“We were here first.”
“Look here, you—”
Ignoring their protestations, he took her arm and led her a little way apart from the throng. He was gratified when she moved willingly beside him.
“Thank you,” she said calmly. “Although what you can have to say to me of a private nature, I’m unable to conjecture.”
He fixed her with a penetrating gaze. “Are you entirely sure about that?”
She turned away from him. “Absolutely.”
All right, two could play at being guileless. “Do you still claim that it was Sophia’s entertainments that prevented our paths from crossing the entire day?” he asked.
She seemed surprised by the question. “If you had been one of the party escorting us ladies on a tour of the gardens this afternoon, then we surely would have met.”
“In that case I owe you an apology.”
“You do?” She widened her eyes. “I can’t think why.”
“I was labouring under the misapprehension that you were avoiding me.”
She canted her head. Her smile was probably intended to be flirtatious but instead showed considerable signs of strain. “Why ever would you think that?”
“I can’t begin to imagine.” But his tone implied precisely the opposite. “However, we’re no longer constricted by Sophia’s entertainments and are at leisure to remedy that situation.”
“What do you have in mind, sir?”
A damned stupid question, if ever I’ve heard one. “I like to learn as much as I can about my competitors,” he said with an engaging smile, his gaze lingering for a little too long on the rapid movement of her breasts.
“I’m gratified you take my challenge so seriously.”
He lifted his gaze from her breasts and focused it on her face. “Yes, but it’s not my reputation that’s in danger of being compromised,” he said softly.
“Ah, I see.” Her cheeks flamed with colour. “I thought perhaps you hadn’t realised it was me—”
“You hoped that I hadn’t and avoided me precisely so we needn’t have this conversation.” He paused. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I ought to explain—”
“I’d much prefer it if you didn’t.”
She shook her head. “Why?”
“Because then I can draw my own co
nclusions.”
“I don’t have the pleasure of understanding you.”
He sent her a heated smile, aware that she understood him very well and that he’d done all he could to save her. He was going against Hal’s advice and warning her off. Hopefully she would grab the lifeline he’d thrown her and let matters rest. Unfortunately that would also mean he wouldn’t get to know her any better since he couldn’t enter into a liaison with a lady he didn’t trust, no matter how tempted he might be. Even so, something stronger than his own will and his duty to his brother compelled him to act in her defence.
“Allow a man a little sport,” he replied carelessly.
“If you don’t wish to know, I think it very ungentlemanly of you to mention the matter at all.”
Rob dealt her a look. “In view of the circumstances, you’re hardly in a position to occupy the moral high ground, my lady.”
“Nevertheless, I think—”
Sophia moved through the crowd, ushering everyone towards the tables set up at the opposite end of the terrace. Rob was prevented from learning what precisely she did think since they were now surrounded by their fellow guests.
He and Hal had agreed to let her steal the fake report and be done with it. It seemed like a reasonable plan, but as soon as he was in her company again, Rob knew he wouldn’t follow that path. The report might temporarily fool her partner, but not for long. Rob wanted to believe espionage didn’t come naturally to his fair companion and was burning to know what had driven her to become involved. Besides, if she was innocent and they thought she was involved in faking the report, it could end badly for her. Rob’s conscience wouldn’t allow that to happen.
His immediate intention was to earn her trust and persuade her to volunteer the reasons for her actions. If she was being coerced he would be able to protect her and discharge his duty to Hal at the same time. At moments such as this, though, when he caught her off guard and she appeared so touchingly vulnerable, all sense of duty left him. Instead of waiting for her to confess to him, he was filled with an overwhelming desire to tell her what he knew. Whenever he was anywhere near her, he appeared to lose all sense of...well, sense.
Finessing the Contessa Page 6