Finessing the Contessa

by Wendy Soliman

  “Now for the tricky bit,” he muttered.

  He needed to cover that expanse of grass and get close to what he assumed was the drawing room window. He remained where he was for some time, but saw no signs of movement. If anyone was in that house, then they weren’t in the rooms that faced the grounds. Rather than feeling reassured, his suspicions were aroused. Why was it so easy? What had he failed to consider?

  Aware that he couldn’t stay where he was all day, Rob took a deep breath and made a dash for it. He reached the crumbling terrace at the back of the house and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, waiting for his heartbeat to return to a more normal rate.

  Waiting for the alarm to be raised.

  When nothing happened he abandoned caution, straightened up and peered through the window. It was a dining room and it was obvious that someone had recently been in there, eating breakfast. Gravina, presumably. The table hadn’t yet been cleared but only one place had been set. His stepmother must have had something sent up.

  Rob withdrew from sight, thinking about what he’d seen. The table not being cleared meant there were servants still in the house. They just weren’t in a hurry to perform their duties with the master absent. Perhaps the same could be said for the guards. If servants were there it either meant that Gravina intended to return to this house after his visit to England, or someone else was in permanent residence. For Electra’s sake, Rob hoped it was the latter.

  Still, there was only one way to find out. He tried the handle to the French doors and they opened with a loud creak of rusty hinges. So loud that someone had to have heard it. Rob ducked back into his hiding place, hoping that whoever came to investigate would think that the door had opened as a result of the wind.

  When, after several minutes, no one had come, Rob took another deep breath and crept into the room. He closed the door behind him as quietly as the ancient hinges permitted. A quick survey of the remaining ground floor rooms confirmed that they too were all empty.

  “Now what?” he said under his breath.

  His question was answered for him when he heard voices coming from what had to be the kitchen. He walked as quietly as he could in that direction, cursing when the boards creaked beneath his feet. He peered through a crack in the open door and discovered the reason for the absence of servants. There were four of them in the kitchen, conducting a heated argument in voices so loud that they wouldn’t have heard anything above the racket they were making even if they’d bothered to listen. Rob assessed them as best he could from his limited viewpoint. There appeared to be a cook and a parlour maid, plus two older men who probably did the heavy outside work. No sign of anyone who could possibly be Constanza, but he did hear two more voices from men complaining about their guard duties.

  Damnation, that wasn’t good.

  The argument was about Gravina, whom none of them liked. They weren’t too enamoured with Lady Denby either, according to the parlour maid, who’d acted as her maid and thought she was far too high in the instep. It seemed none of the servants had been paid and were debating whether or not to cut their losses. The men were firmly in favour of staying put. At least they got to eat well and didn’t have to do much when the master was absent as, apparently, he frequently was. Frustratingly there was no mention of a child.

  Unaware how long it would be before a decision was made and they vacated the kitchen, Rob decided to look upstairs for Augusto. He ran softly up two flights, mindful that there might be other servants going about their duties, although he rather doubted it. He discovered the rooms that had been occupied by Gravina and his stepmother but there was still no sign of a child. There was also a library, Gravina’s presumably. Rob would like to have a quick look to see if he’d left anything interesting behind but there was no time for that. He took the next staircase up, pausing when he heard voices coming from above. Voices speaking in Italian.

  A grown woman’s and a child’s.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The carriage rattled along the track leading from the secluded chateau, speeding Cynthia ever closer to blessed civilization. She breathed an inconspicuous sigh of relief, barely conscious of being thrown against Gravina’s shoulder when the carriage hit a deep rut. Being confined to a rundown chateau with too few servants and a three-year-old child she couldn’t communicate with even if she’d wished to, which she most emphatically did not, wasn’t Cynthia’s idea of amusement.

  “Damnation!” Gravina tapped on the roof with his cane and the carriage rattled to a halt.

  “What is it?” Cynthia asked.

  “I’ve forgotten some important papers.”

  One of the outriders dismounted and came to see what was wrong.

  “Go back to the house and collect the documents I left in the top left-hand drawer of my desk,” Gravina told him.

  “At once, marchese.”

  The man disappeared, the carriage moved off and Cynthia breathed again. For one awful moment she’d thought Gravina planned to defer their journey. Instead his hand landed heavily on her thigh.

  “Whoops, sorry m’dear.”

  The hand remained where it was. The road was a nightmare of ruts and potholes but Cynthia had experienced far worse since she’d suffered the indignity of being all but evicted from the Hall and forced to live on Hal’s charity. She found it hard to accept that her husband had left her so badly provided for. Her solicitor assured her that was the case, but he was probably in Hal’s pocket, too. She blamed Hal’s vindictiveness for her straitened circumstances and wouldn’t rest until she saw him brought down to size.

  “Surely you’re not feeling amorous again, my lord.” She fluttered her lashes at Gravina. The thought of having his hands all over her in the moving conveyance filled her with disdain but that wouldn’t prevent her from letting him have his way. She’d learned never to say no to a man who was in a position to improve her lot. Besides, she had Gravina to herself at last, free from the demands of the child he set so much stock by, and didn’t intend to waste the opportunity of establishing herself even more firmly in his affections.

  “Damn it, Cynthia, when I’m with you I don’t seem to be able to think about much else.” He lowered the window shades. “It will take a while to reach Calais. Can’t think of a better way to pass the time.”

  Cynthia recalled her determination to give him a son, suppressed a sigh and somehow summoned up a smile as his hand drifted beneath her skirts. At the same time her heart swelled with the familiar hatred for Hal Forster that governed everything she did. It was all thanks to him that she’d been obliged to leave her child behind and was reduced to copulating in a moving carriage. “Now that you mention it, neither can I.”

  Gravina laughed. “That’s what I like about you, Cynthia. You never seem able to get enough, and you ain’t too particular about where you do it, neither.”

  “Perhaps you should give yourself some credit for that, my lord.”

  “It takes two, my dear. It takes two. Now come over here and let me at you.”

  Cynthia made sure he couldn’t see her face before wrinkling her nose. Men were so predictable.

  “I’m damned glad Pallister sent you to me,” he said afterwards. “You can open all the right doors for me in London, I’m sure of that.”

  Cynthia refrained from expressing her doubts. Hal had poisoned a lot of minds against her, but she still had contacts. Better yet, she had information she could use against certain gentlemen with families and reputations to protect if they didn’t do her a favour or two in return for her silence. “I shall certainly try.”

  “It’s a damned shame Forster didn’t recommend renovation of the docks,” Gravina complained for the umpteenth time. “I was depending upon that. Are you absolutely sure the report’s recommendations are genuine?”

  She adjusted her clothing and did what she could t
o restore order to her hair. “It’s a shame it wasn’t the original report, then I could have authenticated Hal’s handwriting. But I have no trouble believing he would refute the question of the docks as being too costly.”

  “Blast his eyes!”

  Cynthia’s thoughts exactly.

  As the carriage entered Calais she lifted the shades. Sunlight poured in, making her blink. When her eyes had adjusted she glanced out the window and did a double take. Surely it couldn’t be? Her insides lurched in rebellion. The elegant schooner anchored in the bay was a very distinctive, immaculately maintained schooner with a red-and-green hull. Presumably there was more than one such boat in existence with that colour scheme. Nonetheless, she had a bad feeling about this particular one appearing out of the blue. What were the chances of it not being Hal’s? Damn it, she was so close to establishing herself with Gravina. If Hal queered her pitch again she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions.

  “What is it?” Gravina asked, following the direction of her gaze. “You’ve gone quite pale.”

  Should she tell him? It would make him furious and she couldn’t be absolutely sure it was Hal’s boat. But if she said nothing his temper would be ten times worse.

  “That boat,” she said, pointing in its direction, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. “I think it might be Lord Denby’s.”

  Gravina jerked upright. “Impossible! What business could bring him to Calais at such at time?”

  “I can’t imagine. His wife is close to her confinement and he refuses to leave her side until she’s safely delivered.” Cynthia was frightened by the ferocity of his unleashed anger. “Perhaps I’m mistaken.”

  Gravina sniffed. “I don’t believe in coincidences. If that’s Denby’s boat, then he must be here because of me. We need to know if it actually is his before I decide what to do about it.”

  The intimate mood Cynthia had gone to so much trouble to create between them was now ruined and they continued along in taut silence. By the time their conveyance drew to a halt at the docks, Cynthia had convinced herself that the boat couldn’t possibly be Hal’s. Then she took another look out the window and inhaled sharply. What had she done to deserve such damnable bad luck? A man she knew well from her days in Denby—a man who was a trusted member of Hal’s crew—ducked out of sight when he saw her, but not so quickly that she couldn’t be absolutely sure it was him.

  Cynthia cursed beneath her breath when she saw her plans for a comfortable future once again being thwarted by her meddlesome stepson. Never one to give up without a fight, she quickly recovered from the shock, straightened her shoulders and firmed her resolve. She simply wouldn’t permit that to happen, not for a second time. Whatever she had to do to retain Gravina’s affection, she would do with a smile on her face, especially if it meant she got the better of Hal.

  Gravina tapped on the roof and the carriage rattled to a halt. He lowered the window and beckoned to an urchin. “Hey, you.”

  “I didn’t do nuffick, mister.”

  “These ruffians know everything there is to know about the boats in the harbour,” he told Cynthia.

  She nodded but could think of nothing to say.

  “Who owns that boat anchored over yonder?” he asked the child in French, holding a coin just out of his reach.

  “It’s a fine schooner,” the urchin responded. “Best we’ve seen in a while. Shame it belongs to some Englishman.”

  “Do you know its name?”

  The urchin flashed an impatient look. “’Course I do. It’s called The Celandine.”

  Gravina flipped the coin at the child. He caught it one-handed, offered them a toothy grin and disappeared into a grimy back street.

  “I still don’t think Hal will be on board,” Cynthia said stubbornly when Gravina fixed her with a malevolent scowl.

  “Who would he have sent in his place then, and how did he know I’m here?”

  “Perhaps he doesn’t,” Cynthia said with more conviction than she felt. “He might have business here that doesn’t concern you.”

  “His chess-playing brother—”

  “Rob.”

  “Whatever his damned name is. Curse him, that must be it!”

  “I don’t understand.”

  And she liked it even less when Gravina was in a temper. It wasn’t a side of his character she’d seen much of before now and, although she’d never admit it, he scared her.

  “The child’s mother is in England to play chess,” Gravina said, as though speaking to a simpleton.

  “Oh, I didn’t realise that.” And, obviously, it changed everything.

  “How did you imagine I obtained the report?”

  Cynthia hadn’t thought about it. “She wouldn’t have met Rob that way. He only takes on the very best.”

  “Electra is the very best,” Gravina said impatiently. “For that reason I charged her with getting close to the Forsters and obtaining the report.”

  “That was clever. They’ll never suspect her. You’re seeing problems where none exist.” Cynthia tried hard to convince herself that must be true, even though she had her own doubts. “That boat being here is definitely a coincidence. Even if Rob knew what was in Hal’s report, he’d never pass that information on to a stranger.”

  “Electra has been at the Forster home in Denby for several days. They’re probably on to her and have fed me false information. Thank God I didn’t act on it. It could have cost me a fortune and made me look like a damned fool into the bargain.”

  “Good heavens. How did your son’s wife worm her way into the Hall?”

  Gravina let out a mirthless chuckle. “If you’d seen Electra, you wouldn’t ask such a damned fool question. Grown men have been known to grovel at her feet, just for the privilege of a smile. Yet she remained faithful to that foppish son of mine, God alone knows why.”

  From the bitterness in Gravina’s voice, Cynthia concluded that he’d tried to alter that situation himself, and failed.

  “Even if what you say is true,” Cynthia argued calmly, “she can’t know you’re here or that her son is alive and also in France.”

  “But if the Forsters suspected her, if she got caught trying to steal the report, they might have forced her to lead me astray.”

  “Why would she help you anyway? I thought she left your household after her husband and son supposedly perished.”

  “We have her brother. He’s her only living relative and she adores him. She’d never do anything to risk his welfare.”

  “Well then, presumably if she’d been compromised, she would have found a way to warn you.”

  “Yes.” He fell into momentary contemplation. “Perhaps you’re right. She’s had several opportunities to do just that.”

  “So relax.” Cynthia covered his hand with hers. “Everything is going to plan.”

  “Nevertheless, I dislike coincidences.” He grunted and rapped on the roof again. “Back to the chateau,” he yelled to his coachman, “and make haste about it.”

  So much for my glorious return to England, Cynthia thought wryly.

  * * *

  Rob satisfied himself there was no one else on the nursery floor and then positioned himself outside the door, listening. Constanza, for presumably it was she, was playing a game with the boy. Rob couldn’t see them, nor could he afford to waste time lurking in this passageway. Presumably the servants would remember they had duties to perform sooner or later and he would be trapped inside the house if he lingered too long. He pushed the door open and showed himself to the room’s occupants.

  “Who are you?” Constanza asked in Italian.

  “A friend of Augusto’s mama,” Rob replied in the same language. He stepped further into the room, smiling at the boy who glanced up from the building bricks that occupied him. He looked so much like El
ectra that there was no need to ask who he was.

  “My mama is here?” the child asked, a note of cautious optimism in his voice.

  Rob didn’t answer because Augusto didn’t appear to expect a reply. He gained the impression it was a question the boy had asked with dogged regularity this past year and had almost given up hope of receiving the reply he wished to hear.

  “Constanza,” Rob said. “M’lady received your missive and sent me to collect you both.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “What happened? Why did you write to the contessa?”

  “I’m fond of the child but what my cousin did, separating him from his mother, is wrong. The mistress and me, we didn’t always agree, but she loved this boy and every day that goes by he misses her more.” A tear seeped from the corner of Constanza’s eye. “It breaks my heart to see it.”

  “She misses him just as much.”

  “I can’t bear it anymore. I’m grateful to my cousin for taking me in, but that doesn’t mean I approve of what he did, or the way in which he conducts himself.” Constanza crossed herself. “Augusto has a sweet nature but the marchese will make the boy a mirror image of himself if he has control of him for much longer. It’s my Christian duty to stop that from happening.”

  “He won’t succeed, thanks to your courage. I’m here to take you back to England.”

  “Take Augusto, but I won’t come. I don’t speak the language and wouldn’t know what to do with myself once I arrived.”

  “I’m sure the contessa will engage you to look after Augusto. He seems fond of you.”

  “As I am of him, but I won’t leave mainland Europe, not for any consideration.”