To Deceive a Duke

by Amanda McCabe

  ‘You could write a new play. An Italian tale of angry gods, stolen jewels…’

  ‘And valiant heroines, wounded as they try to defeat the villains?’ Thalia gently adjusted the shawl over Clio’s shoulders, careful of the sling.

  Clio laughed. ‘Your heroine will have to be far braver than to fall apart at a mere scratch. She will have to be truly wounded.’

  ‘It is hardly a “mere scratch”! The bleeding would have been quite dangerous if not for the Duke’s quick thinking.’

  Clio sipped at her tea, remembering last night’s haze of pain and confusion. Remembering Edward tearing his own shirt to make a bandage, carrying her home through the night. I would never leave you, he had said, and last night she believed him.

  ‘Will there be a hero in your story?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. And a romance. A play must have a romance. Passion and devotion that surmounts all danger, even death itself,’ said Thalia.

  Clio smiled at her. Thalia’s blue eyes gleamed with the birth of a new tale. ‘A dark Italian count in disguise?’

  ‘Or an English nobleman with a secret errand! He has been in love with the heroine for years, of course…’

  ‘Yet she, the stubborn chit, has never seen it before.’

  ‘Not until he saves her life, sacrificing that secret errand to do so. Because love is more important.’ Thalia nodded decisively. ‘You catch on to this storytelling business, I see.’

  ‘Love, danger, sacrifice, all the required elements.’

  ‘Perhaps I will add in some gypsies who steal the cursed object. Bits with gypsies are in all the best plays.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Though I don’t recall any gypsies in Antigone.’

  ‘The only thing it was missing, I assure you.’ Thalia drew a notebook from her workbox and started scribbling away.

  As Clio settled back in her chair, Rosa came out bearing fresh tea and a plate of cakes. She didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at Clio, but she tenderly tucked a blanket over her knees before gathering up the old tea things.

  ‘How is Giacomo today, Rosa?’ Clio asked quietly.

  ‘Well enough, signorina. He sometimes suffers from nightmares, ever since he was a baby, and he was up with a very bad one last night.’

  ‘I hope there is something that can be done about these—nightmares.’

  ‘Sí, sí. He is going to stay with my brother in Palermo, who owns a grocer’s shop. We have been trying to persuade Giacomo to learn the trade for years, and now at last he has agreed.’

  ‘I’m sure he will do well there.’

  Rosa nodded. ‘Don’t sit out here too long, signorina. You need to rest,’ she said, bustling back into the house.

  Clio turned back to the garden, to the endless expanse of blue sky. At least someone had found a new beginning out of all this. All she seemed to have was more questions.

  Thalia lowered her notebook to her lap. ‘I just don’t know what will happen at the end.’

  ‘I fear a play’s audience would be most unhappy if the tale ends with “who knows what will happen”!’

  ‘True. The actors would likely be pelted with rotten fruit.’

  ‘They have to rescue the treasure, of course.’

  Unlike in real life. All they had were two small bowls, and the rest was who knew where with Lady Riverton. ‘And love? Will it triumph?’

  ‘It depends. Do I write a comedy or a tragedy? And that reminds me…’ Thalia drew a folded letter from inside her notebook. ‘This came for us this morning, from Marco. In the excitement over your arm, I almost forgot.’

  ‘What does it say?’ Clio asked. ‘Does the Count declare his most tender feelings for you?’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Thalia said, shoving the note into Clio’s hand. ‘We have no tender feelings, only quarrels. Remember? He says he is leaving, going to Pisa to search for Lady Riverton. It seems he visited Mr Frobisher in the Santa Lucia gaol and discovered that was her first destination. Why would she go to Pisa, of all places? If I was trying to hide a stolen treasure, I would go to Russia. Or maybe India. Somewhere very far away.’

  ‘Why does anyone go anywhere?’ Clio muttered. ‘I would wager that sooner or later Lady Riverton will wash up on England’s shores. And Marco will end up chasing her across the whole continent.’

  ‘How very exciting, to go dashing across Europe on a gallant errand!’

  ‘Indeed.’ Clio felt a sharp pang that she, too, could not just dash off after the silver. That she had to stay home while the treasure retreated further and further away.

  But then she looked at Thalia, and thought of Cory and their father, Calliope and Cameron, all their little sisters in England. Of everyone she loved. Edward had let Frobisher flee while he stayed with her, had declared that she was always more important than any antiquity. She could not do any less. Her family needed her, and she needed them. She would stay with them all, and let Marco do the dashing into danger.

  For now.

  But would Edward go after the silver, too? Would she lose him when she lost this place?

  ‘But Switzerland will be interesting, too,’ Thalia said reassuringly, as if she sensed Clio’s melancholy. ‘Lots more adventures wait for us there, I’m sure.’

  Clio smiled at her, her heart still aching. It was time to begin a new chapter, yet she wasn’t sure how. So much had happened here in Santa Lucia, so much had changed. She had changed, in ways she couldn’t yet understand. It was as if the old Clio had been washed away in Demeter’s grotto, been newborn in Edward’s kiss. How did this new Clio move forwards?

  ‘Signorina Clio,’ a footman said, coming out on the terrace. ‘There is a package for you.’

  ‘A letter and a package in one day?’ Clio said with a laugh. ‘We are certainly popular. Thank you, you can bring it out here.’

  ‘I fear it may be too large to fit through the door, signorina.’

  ‘Too large?’ Curious, Clio tossed back the blankets and shawls and hurried into the house, Thalia close on her heels.

  In the foyer stood a massive parcel, thickly wrapped and bound until it was shapeless. The servants all stood about and stared, just as bemused as she was.

  ‘It can’t be a diamond,’ Thalia murmured. ‘Or pearls.’

  ‘Unless it’s the biggest diamond in all India.’ Clio took the kitchen knife a footman handed her and sliced through the binding ropes, impatiently pushing back the wrappings. As they fell away, a wonder was revealed.

  Artemis. The Alabaster Goddess.

  She stood there in their small foyer, her bow upraised, her silver-white stone gleaming beyond the light of any diamond. Without her base, she stood almost as tall as Clio.

  Clio laid a gentle touch on the intricately carved swirls of her hair, the crescent moon bound there. She was cold and perfect, her serene eyes refusing to divulge any of her long-held secrets.

  ‘It’s the Alabaster Goddess,’ Thalia breathed in wonder. ‘He’s given it to you, Clio.’

  Had he given it to her? After all they had been through over this one statue, over everything?

  The statue was surely the most elaborate gift possible. Was she a sign of farewell? Of contrition, forgiveness?

  Clio swung toward the footman, suddenly frantic. ‘Was there anything else? A note or message?’

  He shook his head. ‘Just the statue, signorina.’

  Clio ran towards the door, hardly noticing the painful twinge in her shoulder or hearing Thalia calling after her. She hurried out to the street, ignoring the startled glances of the people she passed, not stopping until she found her goal. Edward’s palazzo.

  She stopped at the open gates, out of breath. Not from her mad dash through town, but from what she saw there, servants carrying out trunks and cases. The windows of the house were all open, the curtains stirring in the breeze, adding their sinuous satin whisper to the bustle and dash of the courtyard.

  He was leaving, she realised in shock. Going away and leaving Artemis to say farewell
.

  A flash of hot anger burned away the cold shock, and her hands tightened on the wrought-iron bars of the gate. Run away from her, would he? No! Not now, not after everything. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, let him. Couldn’t lose him.

  That anger chased away all doubts, and her insecurities, too. Only as she stood there, watching him go, did she see the one and only truth that mattered. She loved Edward. He was the only person who had ever seen and understood her, as she really was. Because they were cut from the same cloth, two of a kind. It was hardly important that the world would think her a poor excuse for a duchess. She would be his duchess, and that was what counted.

  If she could just keep him from leaving now!

  Clio hurried through the gate, asking the first servant she saw, ‘The Duke! Where is he?’

  ‘In his chamber, signorina, but I don’t…’

  She pushed past him, and the butler who tried to stop her at the door, and all the servants carrying their boxes down the stairs. She remembered well where his chamber was, and she didn’t stop until she reached it.

  Edward sat at his desk, writing. All the antiquities she had seen the night she had broken in were gone, packed away, leaving only the locked box on the dressing table. The one that held the silver bowl and the silken scrap from her old Medusa costume.

  He did not even look up from his work, just smiled as if he had been expecting her all along.

  ‘You are looking well today, Clio,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks to you. You saved me there, in Lady Riverton’s drawing room.’

  ‘It was my fault you were in such a dangerous situation in the first place.’

  ‘No, it was my fault. I insisted on being involved.’

  ‘And now that you have seen how it all ends, would you do it differently?’ he asked.

  ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘I didn’t think so.’ He laid his pen down at last and looked up at her, his arms folded on the desk. ‘I have learned a most valuable lesson in all this, my dear.’

  ‘Just one?’

  ‘Oh, no, indeed. But this was the most valuable. You will never be the sort of lady who stays safely at home, out of the way of trouble. If you see a wrong to be righted, you will leap into a fight, come what may. I cannot stop you from that. I can’t keep you safe, even by resorting to kidnapping.’

  Clio gave a choked laugh. ‘It took you this long to decipher that? And here I thought you knew me so well.’

  ‘I do. And that is why I know this—your fierce determination is one of the things I love most about you. If you stayed home embroidering by the fire, you wouldn’t be Clio.’

  ‘You—you love me?’ she whispered.

  ‘You know I love you. I love everything about you, even that stubbornness that drives me to insanity. I think we have to marry.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘So that when we run into danger again, as we assuredly will, we can save each other. And because I just can’t envision my life without you. I have asked you before, Clio, and I ask you again. Will you marry me?’

  ‘Yes!’ Clio cried. She threw herself into his lap, kissing him again and again through a storm of laughter and tears. He kissed her, too, holding her so close they could never be parted again. ‘Yes, I will marry you. I will make you the most wonderful duchess ever, eventually. I promise. Now, when is the wedding?’

  ‘As soon as I can arrange it, my dear. I told you there were some advantages to being a duke. I’ll make the wedding so quick you won’t be able to escape me again.’

  ‘Or you will not be able to escape me! Is that what you were trying to do in leaving Santa Lucia? In sending me the Alabaster Goddess?’

  ‘I am moving to other lodgings. This palazzo has become a bit oppressive, I think. And you can consider Artemis a wedding gift of sorts, if a rather ironic one, considering how fiercely she defended her virginity. But, yes, I am leaving soon. To help your friend Marco find Lady Riverton and the silver.’

  ‘Another adventure, then?’

  ‘But not without you, Clio. Never again without you.’

  ‘I will hold you to that promise,’ she said, kissing him again. ‘For many, many years to come. All our adventures will be together.’

  ‘Oh, my dear…’he laughed ‘…when we are together, the world will never, ever be the same.’

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-5533-7

  TO DECEIVE A DUKE

  Copyright © 2008 by Ammanda McCabe

  First North American Publication 2010

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