“Your invitation?”
“Well, yes. I had no desire to leave him behind.” Harriet cast the young man a brilliant smile. “I should have been more circumspect tonight but I did think Mother wouldn’t notice my absence for a while.” She sighed. “We’d scarcely exchanged more than a few words when you appeared and it was obvious Mother had sent you to find me. We saw you come into the gardens and thought it would be fun to follow you for a bit.”
Goodwin shifted from foot to foot.
“Well, I thought it would be fun. But we weren’t the least bit good at it although you never noticed us.” Harriet smiled in a smug manner.
“Sorry, sir,” Goodwin said under his breath but he didn’t look at all sorry.
His sister had this all wrong. Goodwin wasn’t the bad influence here. If anything Harriet and Goodwin were two of a kind. Dante’s gaze shifted between the young people. “And why, Mr. Goodwin, did you think it wise to follow Harriet—”
“Accompany,” Harriet interjected.
Dante ignored her. “Well?”
“Because...” Sheer panic shone in Goodwin’s eyes. He glanced at Harriet. She nodded and the young man squared his shoulders. “Because she’s beautiful and delightful and magnificent and I don’t want to live a moment without her.”
Harriet smirked in satisfaction. Good Lord. The girl was leading this poor boy around by his nose. And Goodwin was too smitten to notice or care.
“And your intentions?”
“I intend to marry her, sir,” Goodwin said staunchly.
“But not yet,” Harriet added quickly. “If I marry without permission before the age of twenty-five, I won’t get my dowry. It’s a nasty threat and Mother is holding it over my head. Can you imagine such a thing, Uncle Dante?”
“It makes perfect sense to me.” Apparently, Roz knew her daughter well.
“You didn’t think we were going to run off tonight, did you? I would never be silly enough to elope and become the subject of gossip and scandal.” She sniffed. “I have no intention of becoming another Lady Bascombe.”
“Oh?”
There must have been something in the tone of his voice.
“Not that she isn’t rather respectable now, of course,” Harriet said quickly. “And Mother does like her. One couldn’t get a better recommendation than Mother’s approval.”
“You would be wise to remember that, Harriett.” Dante turned his attention to Goodwin. “Do you intend to continue accompanying us?”
“Of course he does,” Harriet said firmly.
Goodwin straightened. “Yes, sir.”
“I see.” He thought for a moment. “And where are you staying?”
“I had friends in Paris so I stayed with them.” Goodwin chose his words carefully. “Here, I, um, well—”
“Bertie really doesn’t have any money for hotels,” Harriet blurted. “Poor dear.”
“I’ve been sleeping on the beach, sir,” Goodwin said reluctantly. “And using the facilities at the casino. But I do have enough for train fare.”
“Don’t you think it might be wiser to use that money to fund your way home?”
“Absolutely not, sir.” Bertie shot an adoring look at Harriet. “I would follow Harriet anywhere and I would do so forever.”
Harriet beamed.
“Forever is a very long time, Mr. Goodwin.” Dante studied him closely. “How old are you?”
“I passed twenty-one on my last birthday, sir.”
Dante considered the couple for a moment. There were only two ways to resolve this. Dante could insist Bertie return home or at least stop accompanying them and threaten to have him arrested if he didn’t. Roz would like that but it could, as well, provoke Harriet and, in spite of her claims, she might decide to elope with him after all. There was nothing more appealing than forbidden love. Or Dante could accept Bertie at his word.
“Very well then, Mr. Goodwin,” Dante said firmly. “If you are determined to continue your accompaniment, you shall do it where I can keep an eye on you.” He glanced at Harriet. “On both of you.”
Harriet’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—” Roz wasn’t going to like this one bit “—Mr. Goodwin is now an official member of our party. Bertie.” Dante adopted his most pleasant expression. “From now on, you will share my rooms. And I am going to be right by your side every minute. Unless you have some objection?”
Poor, dear Bertie swallowed hard. “Not at all, sir.”
“Thank you, Uncle Dante.” Harriet beamed. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.” A wicked light shone in the girl’s eyes. “I can’t wait to tell Mother.”
* * *
“YOU DID WHAT?” Roz stared at him as if he had lost his mind.
“Consider it for a moment, Roz. You’ll see it makes perfect sense.”
Dante had left Bertie in his new accommodations, sent a bellboy to find Roz as well as deliver a note to Willie telling her Harriet was safe, and then escorted Harriet to her rooms. She and her mother had a suite similar to Dante’s and he had waited for his sister in the parlor.
“It makes no sense whatsoever. It’s like saying to the fox ‘Here is the henhouse. Please come in. Do you see anything you like?’”
“Excellent analogy but you’re wrong. People always want what they aren’t supposed to have. If we welcome this young man, he will become far less attractive. Besides, if he travels with us, we’ll be better able to keep watch on them both.”
“You do have a point.” Roz glanced at the bedroom door. No doubt Harriet had her ear pressed against it on the other side.
“Unless you have a better idea.”
“I have a number of better ideas.” She huffed. “Unfortunately, they are all either legally or morally unacceptable.”
“Then we shall definitely avoid them.”
“But they would be most satisfying.” She sighed then eyed him skeptically. “You do realize having Mr. Goodwin in your keeping might make your quest for forgiveness a bit more difficult.”
“Oh, Willie has already forgiven me,” he said smugly.
“Thank you for confirming my suspicions. While I do appreciate your effort at discretion you should know a man who is awakened in the night does not look the same as one who has not been to sleep. The—” she waved absently at his hair “—dishevelment is decidedly different. In addition, your clothes and hers were strewn about the parlor.”
He smoothed his hair. “I assumed you wouldn’t approve.”
“Why? Because it’s terribly improper, immoral and scandalous?”
“All right,” he said slowly.
“Apparently, you have not noticed but I stopped being horribly narrow-minded about that sort of thing years ago. Mind you, I do not approve of infidelity or flagrant immorality but I have come to accept that even the best of us are fallible.” She paused. “Not me, of course, but most people.”
“So you approve?”
“Of your activities tonight? Good Lord, no.” She shrugged. “But apparently I don’t entirely disapprove either as I don’t disapprove of Willie.”
“Excellent.” He grinned.
“So do you now plan to marry her?”
“I do. As soon as I propose properly.” He chuckled. “She’s insisting on that and I suspect she wants a proper wedding, as well.”
“Good. It does seem that all has worked out as it should, then. You end up with both Willie and the Portinari. Once she marries you, the painting is yours and you can return it to the museum where it belongs.”
Bloody hell! He stared at his sister.
“You have told her about the painting, haven’t you?” Roz said slowly.
“I intended to.”
Roz stared. “You can’t possibly be this o
btuse.”
“Apparently, I can,” he snapped. “What am I going to do now?”
“I don’t know but you had better think of something.” She huffed. “Something brilliant. Anything less will simply not do.”
“Yes, well, brilliant is a problem, isn’t it?” Without thinking he paced the room. He’d been faced with other dilemmas before. Tricky complicated messes that required clever ideas and superb negotiation to unravel and resolve. “I could pretend to know nothing about the painting and be quite shocked when she reclaims it.”
“And assert it’s just a startling coincidence when she discovers it’s the centerpiece of a trio of paintings and the museum you oversee—your grandfather’s collection—a collection you know like the back of your hand, has the matching works? Oh yes, that is brilliant.”
“Do you have a better idea? And frankly, Roz, I don’t care if it’s immoral or illegal.”
“Good Lord, you are desperate.”
“You’ve noticed that, have you?” He blew a long breath and shook his head. “I can’t lose her, Roz.”
“I warned you, if you didn’t tell her the truth you risked losing her and the painting.”
“Apparently, you were right.”
“You should have listened to me.”
“Yes, well, I didn’t.” He heaved a frustrated sigh. “I tried to tell her, I really did. But the perfect moment never presented itself.”
“Although I daresay there were any number of imperfect moments.”
“Perhaps but something like this needs to be handled carefully.”
“Perfect is no longer a possibility.” She shook her head. “You are—”
“An idiot,” he snapped. “Yes, I know.” A tiny ray of hope, a light in the darkness flickered and he grabbed on to it. “But she’s in love with me, Roz. She’ll forgive me.”
“And once again you have made my point.”
“I’ll think of something.”
“There is only one possible way to salvage this and even that is questionable.” She met his gaze directly. “You have to tell her everything.”
“Yes, I know.”
“And you have to tell her at once.”
“I realize that.”
“I daresay, at this point, she will not take your revelations well. When we reach Venice it will be too late.” A warning sounded in her voice. “It might already be too late.”
“I know that, as well.”
“You have four days until we arrive in Venice.”
“I am aware of our itinerary.”
“It’s not enough to know everything about the mess you’ve made, now you have to step up and do something to fix it. If that is even possible.” She shook her head. “You are like a runaway carriage about to plunge over a cliff. If you do nothing to stop it...” She cast him a sympathetic look. “I would hate to see your heart truly broken, Dante, but I fear it will be unless you tread very carefully.”
“I intend to.”
“You will have no one to blame but yourself.”
“For God’s sake, Roz!” Did she have to be so bloody superior all the time? “I understand all the ramifications here. Everything that might happen, everything I stand to lose!”
Roz stared in surprise, obviously taken aback by his words. In spite of his successes in life, she still considered him her senseless little brother. “Well, as long as you know...”
“Believe me, I do!” Telling Willie everything now, after she’d shared his bed, after he’d declared his love and his intention to marry her would have to be handled carefully. He needed the right moment and the right words. Anything less would spell disaster. He shook his head. “What I don’t know is how I’m going to stop that damn carriage from plummeting over that blasted cliff.”
And taking him along with it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Itinerary.
Genoa and Verona.
Today we leave picturesque Monaco behind and begin our journey through Italy, winding our way along the coast to spend two nights each in both Genoa and Verona. After arrival in Genoa, we shall stroll the streets of the ancient seaport and begin our exploration of the home of the Discoverer of America. A full day in Genoa will allow us to enjoy its sun-drenched slopes, scenic beauty and evidence of its fabled history.
Then it’s on to Verona, the setting for what many consider to be one of Shakespeare’s finest tales. Here we will experience the faded influence of the Roman Empire and the splendor that was the Italian Renaissance.
“I WAS WONDERING, WILLIE...” Marian sat down at the table Willie had commandeered for herself at the far end of the lounge car.
Their party had taken up most of the seating in the car reserved for first-class passengers, much to the annoyance of the occasional traveler who wandered through the car looking, no doubt, for a bit of peace. But with four young women, all talking at nearly the same time and all vying for the attention of a handsome young man, the newest member of their group, an assortment of four other women, including two Americans, and a vile despicable creature, peace was not to be found. At least not here.
Willie looked up from her guidebook and adopted a pleasant tone. “Yes?”
“Actually, we were both wondering...” Jane settled in another seat.
Willie’s gaze slid from one American to the other. “Do I want to know what you were wondering or are we all better off keeping our questions to ourselves?”
The ladies exchanged cautious glances.
Jane drew a deep breath. “No, we don’t think we are. Better off that is.”
“Although I suppose it depends on exactly what you have to say,” Marian said.
“Very well.” It wasn’t hard to guess what had aroused Jane’s and Marian’s curiosity. As much as Willie tried to act as if nothing at all had happened by throwing herself into the role of tour leader, by being as efficient and informative and pleasant as possible, and by avoiding any private moments with Dante, even she was aware she wasn’t quite managing it.
It had been easy to ignore Dante all morning. She’d been busy seeing that her charges were ready to head onward to Italy. They had left Monaco around noon then changed trains for the five-hour trip to Genoa. There was no place to escape on a train but Willie simply made certain she was never alone with him. Not that there wasn’t a great deal she wished to say to him but she wanted, as well, to be calm and serene when she did so. Wanted her words to be well planned. Perfect. Better not to say anything at all for now. She feared the moment she said so much as a single word, everything would come pouring forth in an unending display of anger and heartache, exactly what she would prefer to avoid. And once she started, she might never be able to stop. Besides, she did wish to see just how far he would take his charade. Still, restraint wasn’t easy. Her fury hadn’t abated during the long hours of the night. Nor had her pain.
Willie closed her Murray’s Handbook for Travellers on the Riviera, folded her hands on top of the book and forced a pleasant smile. “What were you wondering?”
“We want to know if you and Mr. Montague have, well, made up,” Marian said.
“Judging from your mood today we suspect you haven’t.” Jane sighed, no doubt at the stupidity of men in general and Dante in particular. “We thought he was going to apologize last night.”
Marian nodded. “We urged him—”
“We insisted.”
“—that he do so.” Marian shook her head. “He looked so miserable.”
“And you did not look substantially better,” Jane added.
Willie drew her brows together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re talking about Mr. Montague’s dreadful behavior in recent days, of course,” Jane said. “And how last night it looked very much like the two of y
ou had words while you were dancing.”
“So we told him to apologize at once.” Marian shook her head in disbelief. “He wanted to wait until today but we said that was not a wise idea.” She eyed Willie thoughtfully. “Apparently, he did not heed our advice.”
“Well?” Jane asked.
“Well what?” Willie arched a brow.
“Are you going to confirm our suspicions?” Jane’s eyes narrowed. “Because I warn you, Willie, our imaginations are probably far more creative than what has actually transpired.”
“One could say whatever has transpired between Mr. Montague and me is no one’s concern but ours.”
“One could certainly say that,” Marian began, “however, when one has friends who are worried, one might feel the need alleviate their anxiety.”
“I assure you there is nothing to worry about,” Willie said with a surprising show of serenity. “I am quite fine and in an excellent mood.”
“Yes, that’s what we thought.” Marian glanced at Jane who nodded. “Although you are being horribly efficient in your best travel hostess manner.”
“There’s nothing wrong with efficient. I daresay Miss Granville would heartily approve of my efforts to be competent and capable.”
“For goodness’ sake, Willie.” Marian huffed. “We didn’t want to travel with the efficient Miss Granville, we wished to tour with the spirited Lady Bascombe.”
“You what?” Willie stared.
“You thought we weren’t aware of your past reputation?” Jane scoffed. “How silly of you—of course we were. But after our lengthy stay in England, we had no desire to spend a month traveling with someone unquestionably proper and boring.” Jane smiled. “We wanted you.”
“Miss Granville took it upon herself to make us both aware of your background before we left London.” Marian leaned forward in a confidential manner. “But it did seem to us that far more was made of the incidents she related than should have been which we blame on the relative stuffiness of English society.”
“On the contrary, the blame is entirely mine,” Willie said firmly. “Why, I’ll have you know, I was impetuous and daring and on occasion even shocking. And while I’m not particularly proud of it, I’m not ashamed of it either. I had a great deal of fun. I daresay I would have been considered quite madcap even in America.” Good Lord. Obviously being around Val—a man who was unrepentantly proud of his reputation—had had a horrible influence on her. “Although I have changed a lot since my younger days.” She shrugged. “The revelations that accompany widowhood tend to do that, I believe. At least they did for me. I hope you haven’t been disappointed if I have not been as outrageous as you had hoped.”
The Lady Travelers Guide to Larceny With a Dashing Stranger Page 23