Finessing the Contessa

by Wendy Soliman

  “You didn’t let them see you?”

  “Nah. They stayed alert so we let them get a long way ahead. We couldn’t lose them because there was only one way they could go.” He paused. Why did he pause? Something went wrong, Electra just knew it.

  “So where did he lead you?” Rob asked.

  “They went to a chateau deep in the forested countryside,” Wright replied. “The road up to it is neglected and overgrown, little more than a track. You’d never find it by chance.”

  “A perfect place to hide a child,” Electra breathed.

  “Is it wide enough for a carriage?” Rob asked.

  “Just about, but I wouldn’t recommend it. You can ride through the trees and stay out of sight of the house, but a carriage—”

  “Did you see a child anywhere?” Electra asked.

  “No, ma’am, but it was nearly dark by the time we got there. Couldn’t see much of anything.”

  “Are the grounds hard to get into?” Rob asked.

  “Not really. There’s a large garden bordered by a high fence. A fit man could climb it, but I did see men moving about in the grounds.”

  “Gravina’s chosen his hiding place well,” Rob said. “It sounds as though no one’s likely to stumble upon it by accident, and it would be easy to spot anyone who did happen upon it before they got anywhere near.”

  “Then if Augusto’s there, we won’t be able to get to him,” Electra said dejectedly. “It sounds impossible.”

  “Not a bit of it,” Rob said. “Have a little faith.”

  “Nothing’s impossible,” Wright said, sniffing.

  “It just needs a little planning.” Rob placed a hand on her shoulder. “We have the element of surprise on our side. Gravina’s being cautious but I doubt if he really expects anyone to snatch the child, when the only people likely to do so believe him to be dead.”

  Electra stood up and then sat down again, unsure what to do with herself. She wanted to launch an assault on that house immediately. Even a moment’s delay was unacceptable, but she knew it would be foolish to try it in the dark. Besides, if Gravina really did set out for England early the next morning, it would make it far easier to snatch Augusto without him being there. While he was in residence he would be surrounded by his minions and the servants would be more alert. No, it was more sensible to wait, even though the last thing Electra felt like doing was being sensible.

  “Have four horses ready at first light, Wright,” Rob said. “You, Peacock, Lady Falzone and I will make our way to the house then. Set two people in the woods overnight to keep watch and warn us when we approach if there’s something we need to know about. Have someone else keep a sharp eye out here as well. I need to be aware if Gravina catches the packet back to Dover in the morning.”

  Electra watched Rob as he discussed strategy with Wright and issued orders, appearing to have thought of everything. She liked that he included her, asking her opinion and not just assuming she’d do as he asked.

  “How many people will we be extracting from the chateau?” Wright asked.

  “Just the child and his nurse. I’d have liked to take a carriage to make it easier to bring them back but it sounds as though that’s not possible. I’ll carry the child on my horse and the maid will have to ride behind you, Wright.”

  “Is she pretty?” Wright asked, waggling his brows.

  Electra laughed. “What would you have me say?”

  Wright pulled a doomed face. “That bad, huh?”

  As soon as the door closed behind Wright, Rob pulled Electra into his arms. He always seemed to know when she was most in need of comfort. She rested her head against his shoulder and allowed the tears she’d been holding at bay ever since she learned that Augusto might still be alive to flow freely. Rob caught one on his forefinger and sucked it into his mouth.

  “This is an occasion for celebration, not tears. Now, I believe there’s a gown in that valise of yours. Why not slip into it and I’ll take you out for dinner? I have a fancy for a female companion this evening.”

  Electra’s tears were replaced by laughter when Rob extracted her rather crumpled gown and played the part of lady’s maid.

  “You’re remarkably good at this,” she said as he tied the laces for her. “Where did you learn your skill?”

  He kissed the back of her neck. “Sit down and I’ll brush your hair. I’m remarkably good at that as well.”

  “Modesty not being one of your qualities.”

  He offered her a puzzled expression. “I have something to be modest about?”

  “Oh, you Forster males!” She threw her hands up, laughing. “You’re incorrigible.”

  Electra would never admit it but he really did know how to brush a lady’s hair, making the entire experience sensuous in a way that it never was when Luci performed the task. He twisted it up behind her head and inserted the requisite number of pins without once stabbing her. He added the hat she’d brought with her, its veil concealing most of her features. In a relatively simple gown and without an elaborate coiffeur, it was unlikely she’d be recognised but Rob was clearly taking no chances.

  He took her to a small hotel with a public dining room that served typical French fare. He plied her with wine and entertained her with amusing conversation. Electra discovered that she was actually hungry and ate more than she would have considered possible under the circumstances. But despite Rob’s best efforts, her mind kept revolving around the possibility of seeing her son again—a son whom she’d thought was lost to her forever.

  “Talk to me about him.” Rob leaned one elbow on the arm of his chair and supported his chin on his fist. His deep brown eyes gleamed soft with compassion in the candlelight as he focused them on her face. “Tell me what your favourite memories of Augusto are.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. The feel of his soft skin, of his plump little legs, his thick hair so like mine. It curls at his crown and can never be persuaded to sit flat.” Electra smiled at memories she had shut out for over a year, too painful to be revisited. “His baby smell, his laughter when I tickle him, the way he clings to me like a monkey.”

  “A typical, lively little boy.”

  “Absolutely.” Her smiled faltered. “He bites his lip when he falls over, to prevent himself from crying because Gravina insists that strong boys never cry.”

  Rob ground his jaw. “The man has strange priorities.”

  “Augusto loves to pick wild flowers and present them to me, forgetting to include the stems, just as Lady Billingham’s child did the other day.”

  “No wonder you were so upset that day.”

  “His innate curiosity and love of everything that grows remind me of Vincenzo. My brother developed an enquiring mind at a young age, too.”

  Rob said little, encouraging her to talk about things that she expected to hurt. Instead it was cathartic, and when they returned to the pension she felt as though another great burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “We will get him back, cara mia” were Rob’s last words before they fell asleep in one another’s arms. “If he’s in that chateau, then by this time tomorrow he will be restored to you. On that you have my word.”

  “Less than twenty-four hours.” She gazed at Rob in dazed disbelief. “Can it really be that easy?”

  * * *

  For once Cynthia Denby didn’t mind rising at an unfashionably early hour since her fortunes had finally undergone a change for the better. How stupid she’d been to resist Pallister’s request that she travel to France and befriend the marchese. The man was a paragon of everything she aspired to be. She didn’t especially like him, but she recognised a kindred spirit—two people who did whatever was necessary to achieve their ambitions.

  “Ouch, have a care, girl!”

  The French maid had stabbed her head with a
pin.

  “Sorry, madame.”

  Cynthia stared at her reflection as the girl continued to dress her hair. To achieve her ambitions and cultivate Gravina, she’d had to send Julia to the Hall, albeit temporarily. It caused her considerable anguish, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that Hal wouldn’t turn her away. Besides, it was Julia’s home every bit as much as it was Hal’s and it would be good for her to know her relations better.

  Pallister had told her to prepare herself for a lengthy absence, so it had seemed sensible to close her Hampshire house and save on expenses. Julia would benefit from being at the Hall and Cynthia would either return to collect her or send for her to join her abroad just as soon as she could.

  Her task was to befriend Gravina, and Cynthia knew precisely how far she would be expected to extend that friendship. She was to present herself as an expert on English society, which she was, and an intimate of Hal’s, which couldn’t be further from the truth. But Gravina wasn’t to know that. She was required to authenticate Hal’s handwriting on a report. That she could most assuredly manage since she’d seen it on numerous letters from him denying her requests for a modest increase in her allowance.

  Damn the man, he was incredibly tight-fisted and appeared to enjoy keeping her on a tight leash. Well, Cynthia was about to exact long overdue revenge. The report wasn’t in Hal’s hand. Even so, she was pretty sure it was genuine. His meanness of spirit clearly extended to matters of state. Gravina had explained to her that Sicily was due compensation for the damage inflicted upon it during the British occupation. The very least Hal could have done would have been to recommend funding widespread improvements to the docks in Palermo. Everyone thought it was a certainty, but he hadn’t done so. Gravina had pinned his hopes on winning the contract to effect those repairs. Now, all he had instead was advance knowledge of a few new contracts that wouldn’t be nearly as profitable.

  Even so, Cynthia had managed to persuade him that he could make good use of that information. She was delighted when Gravina invited her to return to England at his side and help him to grease the right palms. Pallister would know which people to cultivate, but Gravina appeared to want Cynthia’s help just as much. Cynthia didn’t like Pallister any more than she enjoyed Hal’s society, and was more than happy to influence Gravina against him.

  Gravina was insatiable between the sheets and talked of taking her back to Sicily with him, installing her there as his mistress. His wife wasn’t one for society, apparently, but Cynthia was happy to fill that void. It wasn’t English society, of course, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And thanks to Hal, she was reduced to begging.

  She had miscalculated with her late husband’s children, she realised that now, and ought to have taken more trouble to cultivate their friendship. But how was she supposed to know that Sebastian would be inconsiderate enough to die before his time? She had been too young to appreciate just how fortunate she’d been to attract the recently bereaved Lord Denby. He was taken by her youth and beauty but she refused him access to her bed until he proposed marriage. Then he insisted that she bury herself in the countryside and raise his family for him. That wasn’t what she’d expected when she became a marchioness. Society, admiration and proper respect was what she craved. Still, she’d learned from the experience and knew precisely how to handle Gravina.

  Gravina was happy for Julia to accompany them to Sicily. Julia was at that gangly and awkward stage, but Cynthia had been much the same at her age. Her beauty and figure had blossomed when she wasn’t much older than Julia was now. She’d have to ensure that Gravina’s wandering eye didn’t fall upon her own daughter. She didn’t care how many other women Gravina bedded, just so long as she established herself as his principal ally, in the bedchamber and outside of it. She wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

  “The travelling gown. Quick, girl,” Cynthia said, snapping her fingers.

  Cynthia had a plan. Gravina lamented his lack of a son, hence his obsession with his grandson. Cynthia was still of child-bearing age and, unlike Gravina’s wife, had already borne a healthy son. She was confident she could provide Gravina with a boy, thus cementing her position beside him. The child wouldn’t be legitimate but Sicilians didn’t set the same stock by that sort of thing as the English did. Gravina could name whomsoever he wished as his heir. Cynthia smiled. At last a child of hers would have the recognition he deserved.

  Satisfied with her appearance, Cynthia snatched her reticule from the maid and made her way downstairs, right on time. Gravina didn’t care to be kept waiting, and she knew better than to upset him over something so trivial.

  * * *

  Wright led the procession of four horses out of Calais the following morning, just as dawn was breaking, showing early promise of a fine day in prospect. Electra seemed composed but Rob rode close by her side, worried that the strain of expectation would be too much for her. Peacock protected her other flank while Wright rode slightly ahead of them all. They made quick progress since there was little traffic on the roads at such an early hour.

  “This is the place.”

  Wright drew rein at the start of what did seem like a rutted track.

  “We need to keep off the road as much as we can from now on,” Rob said, examining the terrain.

  “There’s a way through the woods about a mile further up.”

  “Fine.” Rob glanced at Electra. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, don’t worry about me,” she said impatiently. “Just keep moving.”

  He smiled, well able to imagine her emotional turmoil at the prospect of seeing her son again.

  Or worse, not seeing him.

  They had barely covered another quarter mile before a loud bird call rent the air.

  “That’s one of my men,” Wright said, halting. “Someone must be coming.”

  Rob slid from his horse’s back. “Quick, off the road!”

  The rest of them dismounted and they led the horses into the thick trees. They had only just concealed themselves when Rob heard the sound of hooves and the wheels of a carriage churning over the rutted road. He handed his reins to Wright and crept closer to the track, keen to see who was in the carriage. He wasn’t surprised when Electra joined him there. The carriage rumbled past them and Rob saw two people inside it, a man and a woman. The woman was immediately recognisable.

  “Is that Gravina?” he asked Electra when the two outriders trailing the carriage had safely passed them.

  “Yes,” she said, gritting her teeth. “That was him. I assume the lady was your stepmother.”

  “Indeed.” Rob straightened up and rubbed his jaw. “They must be making for Dover.”

  “And no children with them,” Electra said, her voice wobbling. “We would have seen a nursemaid if there was. Let’s hope you’re right and they left Augusto behind with Constanza.”

  “We’ll soon know.”

  The party remounted and made their way to the path through the woods. Progress was slow since the path was narrow, completely overgrown in some places. They were obliged to dismount and lead their horses through some areas.

  When they were within sight of the chateau Rob ordered them to halt. They tied the horses to trees that would keep them concealed from anyone watching from inside the house and crept cautiously towards the perimeter. It was now nine in the morning and Rob wasn’t sure what to expect. It was too much to hope that the child would be in the grounds and they could simply stroll in and snatch him.

  They crouched behind foliage growing on their side of the fence and peered through a gap into an extensive, overgrown park, which seemed to be totally deserted. There was a mown area of lawn close to the house, a few hardy shrubs that had survived the neglect, and absolutely nothing else to excite Rob’s attention. The house appeared as shabby as the grounds, and there was no indication of occupation othe
r than a tall, recently installed fence surrounding the perimeter. No servants going about the duties, no movements in any windows. The only sign that the place hadn’t been abandoned was a meagre thread of smoke from a single chimney.

  They watched for several minutes, Rob acutely aware of Electra’s growing anguish and impatience. No one seemed to be patrolling the grounds, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Gravina wasn’t the sort to leave anything to chance.

  “Augusto must be gone,” Electra said bleakly. “Otherwise there would be guards. Somehow they knew we would come for him.”

  “We don’t know any such thing.” Rob squeezed her hand. “Stay here with Wright while I take a closer look.”

  “I want to come, too.”

  “No, promise me you’ll stay.” He fixed her with a stern look. “You agreed to do as I asked. Besides, that fence is too tall for you to climb.”

  “But Augusto doesn’t know you.”

  “Electra!”

  “Yes, all right.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts but failed to meet his gaze.

  “I can’t be effective if I have to worry about you.”

  She expelled a deep sigh. “I know that.”

  “If I don’t come back, Wright, you know what to do.”

  “Aye.”

  Rob touched Electra’s cheek. “I shall be quick, I promise you.”

  “Stay safe,” she replied softly. “I can’t lose you as well.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” He kissed the back of her hand.

  Wright gave him a leg up and, with his arms outstretched, Rob was able to grasp the top of the fence in his gloved hands. It was awkward swinging his legs over the foliage on his side without getting caught up in the brambles growing there. His legs dangled inelegantly in midair for a moment or two before he gained sufficient momentum to haul himself onto the top of the fence.

  Their view of the grounds through the gap in the fence had been limited, so Rob paused to ensure there were no guards lurking before releasing his hold and landing in the grounds of the chateau. He rolled onto his side and remained where he was, regaining his breath and waiting to see if his arrival had been noticed. Nothing stirred. The overgrown state of the place worked to his advantage and, crouching low, he was able to make his way up to the mown lawn, expecting at any moment to be challenged.