Finessing the Contessa

by Wendy Soliman

  “Damn you, Englishman,” Gravina said. “Damn you to hell and back.” He glanced covetously towards Augusto. “But you’ve not heard the last of this, not by a long chalk.”

  “A bad loser, Gravina.” Rob elevated a brow. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  Cynthia couldn’t believe that they were conversing, almost as though they respected one another. Her moment of revenge had just slipped through her fingers like shifting sand. Men could never be trusted to do the right thing. As usual, she’d have to take care of her own interests. Red spots blurred her vision as she grabbed Gravina’s sword. It had fallen almost at her feet, like a gift from God. She picked it up and ran towards Rob. He had sunk to the ground, clutching his wounded side, and clearly didn’t see her until she was almost on him.

  At last! The years of humiliation she blamed on this man’s brother spiralled through her mind in those split seconds. All the cuts direct as a result of Hal’s poisoning peoples’ minds against her. All the stupid economies she’d been obliged to make because Hal kept her so short of money. All the privileges that were her children’s by right but which were denied to them due to lack of funds. At last she would enjoy a modicum of revenge. She would prefer it to be Hal at her mercy, of course, but Rob would do almost as well. Besides, perhaps it would be better for Hal to remain breathing and know who had deprived him of his adored brother.

  Cynthia smiled when Rob finally noticed her approach. His eyes widened but he seemed incapable of movement. His face was deathly pale, his side leaking blood. It was a wonder he was still conscious. Perhaps he would die without any help from her, but where would be the satisfaction in that? She raised her arm and grinned at him, savouring the moment.

  “Oh no, you don’t!”

  Cynthia didn’t even look round at the sound of Electra Falzone’s protest. The woman was too wrapped up in her son to spare much attention for Rob. If it came to a choice between protecting her child or her paramour, the child’s interests would always prevail. Besides, even if the contessa did try to intervene, she would be no match for someone fighting for survival.

  “Stand aside!”

  The contessa was still behind her, damn the woman. If she’d somehow wormed her way into the Forsters’ affections, then it cast a very different light on events. It wasn’t difficult for Cynthia to imagine how she’d achieved that ambition. And her stepchildren accused her of being fast!

  The devil take it, she’d come this far and refused to be bested now! Only if Rob died would she be able to save her position and convince Gravina that she hadn’t led him false.

  Cynthia pushed her elbow into the contessa’s midriff, fending her off like a tiresome fly and sending her crashing to the ground.

  “Arghhh, you bracket-faced jade!”

  Cynthia barely heard the insult. She’d been called much worse in recent times. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the contessa still on the ground, grasping her wrist as though she’d fallen awkwardly on it. Good! Cynthia hoped it was broken. It would certainly keep her out of the way for another minute or so, which was all it would take for Cynthia to finish Rob off.

  Besides, the prostrate Rob deserved nothing less than her full attention. She wanted him to look into her face, to know death would be delivered by her hand and perhaps even beg for mercy. Wouldn’t that be amusing—a sophisticated Forster reduced to begging. She saw Gravina’s men in the periphery of her vision, watching her but making no attempt to either help or intervene—the lily-livered cowards.

  Screaming like a banshee, years’ worth of frustration pouring from her lips in a stream of invectives, she raised the sword and went to strike at Rob’s heart, taking care to get her aim exactly right.

  Before her hand was halfway down, someone’s arm circled her waist from behind. A hand knocked her hat aside and tugged at her hair, pulling hard enough to topple her over backwards. Damnation, the Falzone woman refused to give up.

  The sword fell beneath Cynthia as she hit the ground, causing her to scream as pain shot through her arm. Electra stood over her, hands on hips, breathing hard, her eyes glowing with anger. Gravina’s men had finally stepped forward but didn’t have the backbone to take on Rob’s lackeys, who had them covered.

  “Rob said you were no lady,” Electra said, before kneeling next to Rob and anxiously asking if he was all right.

  “Bracket-faced jade,” he said, his voice weak but tinged with amusement. “Wherever did you learn such language?”

  “It was entirely appropriate.” Electra took his hand. “Tell me how you are?”

  “Thank you. She took me by surprise. I didn’t expect anything so underhand, even from her.” He winced. “I probably should have.”

  Gravina hovered above him. “My apologies, Forster,” he said gruffly. “She shouldn’t have done that.”

  Cynthia clutched her arm, blood seeping between her fingers. Rob, blast him, managed to sit up and look in control, even in spite of his wounded and debilitated condition.

  “No, she shouldn’t.” He turned towards her. “You interfered in an affair of honour and tried to murder an English aristocrat, as these witnesses here will attest.” Several heads nodded. “I suggest you take her back to Italy with you, Gravina, since she’s brought shame on you too. You’ll just have to make the best of a bad job. There will be a warrant out for your arrest in England, Lady Denby, so if you ever set foot on English soil again, you’ll regret it.”

  “You wouldn’t go that far!” Cynthia spoke through gritted teeth, the agony of failure far outweighing the excruciating pain from her cut arm. “My children. The Denby name.”

  “Your children will be better off without you, and the Denby name will be enhanced when you’re distanced from it.”

  Gravina grunted something unintelligible, then stalked away and climbed into his carriage, leaving Cynthia to run after him as best she could.

  * * *

  Electra plastered his face with kisses and simultaneously called to Wright for bandages, something, anything to stop the bleeding.

  “Best let me deal with it, ma’am,” Wright said, pushing her aside. “Peacock, ride to Calais, hire a carriage and bring it back here. His lordship can’t ride back like this.”

  “You frightened me half to death.” Electra stroked Rob’s hair, trying to sound severe. “No one beats Gravina at swordplay.”

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence,” he said wryly.

  “Where did you learn to fight so well?”

  “Cambridge. I was university champion for my entire three-year tenure.”

  “You might have told me and saved me from losing ten years of my life.” She kissed him some more. “I thought you were going to die, damn it!”

  The corners of his lips lifted. “I love it when you curse.”

  “Stop making light of it. This isn’t funny.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “You saved my life just then. Lady Denby would have taken considerable pleasure in killing me if you hadn’t intervened.”

  “Humph, not while I still have breath in my body.”

  Augusto had escaped from Wright and crept up behind her. “Is he gone?” he asked, his lip trembling.

  “Yes, darling.” Electra transferred her excess of kisses to her son. “Your grandpapa’s gone forever and we won’t see him ever again.”

  “Good, I’d much rather be with you.”

  “I’m very glad to hear you say so.” Electra tousled her son’s hair. “And it just so happens that there’s no one I’d rather be with than you.”

  Electra distracted Augusto while Wright cut away Rob’s shirt and wrapped bandages round his torso tightly enough to staunch the bleeding. She could see that he was in great pain and wondered how he’d managed to remain conscious. Her heart swelled with love, both for him and the child in her arms, unsure whethe
r to laugh, cry with relief or batter Rob to death with her own fists for giving her such a fright.

  “Here comes Peacock with that carriage,” one of Wright’s men said.

  Rob, worryingly weak, was supported by Wright and another man and had to be lifted into it. Electra climbed in beside him along with Augusto, and the conveyance moved slowly back up the rutted road. Electra winced at how badly the uneven terrain affected Rob. By the time they arrived back in Calais, he was unconscious.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Pain washed through Rob when he opened his eyes, so he closed them again. He was in a bed but it felt as though the world was swaying. As the cloud in his brain slowly cleared, he opened his eyes once more and recognised his surroundings. He was on The Celandine and they were obviously underway. He sensed there were people in the room. Sure enough, Electra’s features came into his line of vision, as did Augusto’s.

  “How do you feel?” she asked anxiously.

  “I’ve had better days.”

  “Wright stitched your side. You passed out.”

  “Does it hurt?” Augusto asked in Italian, peering curiously at Rob.

  “Like the devil,” Rob replied in the same language.

  Augusto pulled an aggrieved face. “Mama wouldn’t let me watch.”

  “I didn’t watch either,” Rob said, somehow managing to smile through the pain. Perdition, he’d never known anything like it. Still, it was worth it, if only to ensure Electra’s safety. To watch her face as she cuddled her son, never seeming to want to release him, was its own reward.

  He took a moment to assess his situation. There was more wrong with him than just a bad wound. He felt lightheaded enough to be delirious.

  Electra remained at his side for the duration of the crossing, cooling his burning forehead with cold compresses, talking to him, whispering soothing words that sometimes registered. In and out of consciousness, he kept his eyes closed, too exhausted to do anything else.

  Voices woke him. He didn’t know how long he’d slept but they were clearly back in the boat’s regular anchorage because he heard Hal’s distinctive tone.

  “We thought it best to leave France right away,” Rob heard Wright say. “Lady Falzone insisted that her brother would be able to help Lord Robert.”

  Rob forced his eyes open. “Stop talking about me as though I wasn’t here,” he said, his voice sounding croaky and thin.

  “Ah, you’ve decided to rejoin us.” Hal sat on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

  “I wish people would stop asking me that.”

  “Ah, he’s more himself, Lady Falzone, because he’s being rude.”

  “Cynthia Denby, she—”

  “Tell me later,” Hal said. “First off, we need to find a way to get you off this tub and into a comfortable bed at the Hall.”

  “I can walk.”

  “Perhaps, but you can’t climb down a ladder to the wherry.” Hal stood up. “Wright, can we lift Lord Robert into the wherry when it’s in its davits at deck level without opening his wound?”

  “Might be a bit uncomfortable for him but it should be possible.”

  “Just get me out of here.” Rob didn’t discover whether or not he could actually walk since Hal carried him up to the deck, despite his protests. With Wright’s help, Hal manoeuvred him into the wherry that was balanced on the side of the ship. It hurt like hell and, satisfied that Electra wasn’t within hearing, Rob cursed like he was a member of the crew.

  “There’s obviously not too much wrong with him,” Hal said wryly.

  Rob remembered nothing about the ride back to the Hall. Presumably he passed out again. He regained consciousness sometime later, to find Electra’s brother closely examining his wound, Hal beside him.

  “It’s infected,” Falzone said, “but this will help. It’s likely to hurt, Lord Robert, but it’s necessary.”

  “What is it? It smells like witch’s brew.”

  “A concoction of boiled herbs. Would it set your mind at ease if I told you which ones?”

  “Just do it!” It was obvious they wouldn’t leave him to sleep unless he submitted. “My head’s so damned fussy it feels ready to explode.”

  “The fever,” Falzone said. “It’s good that you’re aware of it.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Rob grimaced. “Where’s Electra?”

  “Up on the nursery floor with Augusto. The child’s excited but exhausted and she won’t leave him.”

  “Of course she won’t.”

  “You restored my sister’s child to her, Lord Robert,” Falzone said, sounding emotional. “And for that, the very least I can do is make you better.”

  “With that muck?” Rob screwed up his nose. “It hardly seems credible.”

  “Have a little faith,” Falzone said calmly, stirring his vile concoction until the room stank of it.

  Hal placed a strong hand on Rob’s shoulder. “Hold still, little brother.”

  Rob almost elevated from the bed when Falzone applied his herbal concoction. It burned like the devil and made his head swim. “Damn it, man, are you trying to finish me off?”

  “Just trust me.”

  Rob grunted, unable to help feeling that Falzone had only made matters worse. These modern methods were all very well, but surely a regular doctor would have been a safer bet?

  “Right, now we wait for my herbs to do their work. Drink this, if you please.”

  A glass was held to Rob’s lips. It smelled as vile as the potion that had just been placed on his wound. Hal’s hand supported Rob’s neck and it became clear that he wouldn’t be allowed to refuse whatever was in the glass. Rob drank it down with bad grace.

  And promptly passed out again.

  * * *

  Leah and Beth sat together in Leah’s chamber, talking about Rob’s heroics in France.

  “It seems Lady Denby can’t return to England after what she did,” Leah said. “We haven’t heard the particulars from Rob yet, but the contessa told Hal and me that she actually interfered in a duel and tried to kill Rob.”

  Beth gasped. “She must be a very bitter woman.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t realise quite how deeply her hatred of the Forsters ran.”

  “What of Julia?” Beth wrinkled her brow. “Will she remain with us?”

  “It looks that way. You’ve already worked wonders with her, Beth, and as soon as I can leave this bed, I shall lend a hand.”

  “You have other priorities.” Beth smiled at the sleeping baby in Leah’s arms. “Don’t you ever leave him to his nurse?”

  “Occasionally,” Leah conceded, her lips twitching. “But tell me, what answer did you give Mr. Garman when he came to see you earlier?”

  Beth sighed. “I declined his proposal.”

  “You did the right thing,” Leah said, touching her sister’s hand.

  “I’ve always thought it was my duty to marry. That was the plan when we were penniless. I was to marry well and save us both from the workhouse.”

  Leah laughed. “Yes, but that’s no longer necessary.”

  “Quite, but it took a while for me to realise that. During the season I didn’t hear talk of anything other than marriage prospects. It’s hard not to get caught up in that. But I can see now that there’s nothing wrong with remaining unmarried.”

  “You still have plenty of time.”

  “I enjoy Mr. Garman’s society, but I don’t love him. Not in the way that you love Hal, Flick loves Darius or, I suspect, Rob loves Lady Falzone.” Beth straightened her shoulders. “You’ve set the standard high, Leah, and I won’t be tempted into matrimony unless I feel that degree of love for a gentleman and am positive that it’s returned.”

  “Then I think you’re being very sensible,” Leah said, then ab
ruptly changed the subject. “Hal’s so impressed with the way Mr. Falzone treated you, and then Rob, that he’s offered to sponsor him if he wishes to remain in England and establish a business here.”

  “I’m glad. It would be hard for him to return to Sicily after what happened with Gravina. How is Rob, by the way?”

  “He’s been asleep most of the time since Mr. Falzone treated him. He seems to think that keeping Rob asleep will help to eradicate the fever.”

  “Let’s hope he’s right. Hal loves his siblings almost as much as he loves you, Leah. If anything were to happen to Rob, then I wouldn’t like to be in Gravina’s shoes—or Lady Denby’s.”

  “Let’s not think that way.” Leah smiled. “Flick called in this morning when you were with Julia. She came to see Rob, of course, but in actual fact she wanted to confide in me that she’s increasing.”

  “Oh, how lovely! Darius must be delighted.”

  “We shall find out next week. As soon as Rob and I are on our feet again we’ll have a quiet family dinner and they can make their announcement.” Leah smiled at her sister. “Remember to act surprised.”

  * * *

  Rob opened his eyes, relieved to discover that the room remained in focus and that his head felt clear. His wound didn’t hurt nearly so much either. Electra leaned over him, wiping his brow with a cool cloth.

  “How long have I been asleep?” he asked.

  “Good afternoon, Rob. How do you feel?”

  “Much better. Perhaps your brother isn’t such a butcher after all.”

  Electra laughed. “I did try to tell you. And to answer your question, you’ve been asleep for a little more than a day.”

  “That long? No wonder I’m so sharp set.”

  “I’ll ring for something.”

  “Where’s Augusto?”