But in Venice, the Ridotto wasn’t a separate establishment, but rooms in a nobleman’s house—the Palazzo di Dandolo—that the fellow had decided to make public, with the government claiming a portion of all the winnings as a sort of tax. The gaming was supposed to be restricted to aristocrats and others who could afford it; to protect their identities, the Ridotto enforced strict rules of dress, including masks, hats, veils and cloaks.
It seemed to Richard to be the damnedest thing, dressing up like an All Saints’ Day ghoul to play bassett or faro, and he’d been warned that there were as many rascals as nobles hidden behind the masks, and that for every true lady, there were two courtesans. He’d thought twice about taking Jane into such a place, but the Ridotto at Carnevale was supposed to one of the most memorable sights to experience in Venice. Finally he’d decided it would do Jane good to see something of the city beyond old churches and picture galleries, and he’d accepted the invitation he’d been sent when he’d first arrived.
But now, as he and Jane joined the other costumed revellers who crowded the Campo San Moise outside the palazzo, his misgivings vanished. Though he couldn’t begin to see her face beneath the mask and veil her costume required, he could hear her delighted chuckle, and knew from the way she squeezed his hand that she was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle around her.
‘Have you ever seen so much fancy dress, Richard?’ she asked. ‘It’s as if a flock of bright birds has landed.’
‘Righteous large birds,’ he said, laughing, for they did all look like birds. It wasn’t so much the bright silk of the fancy dress, but the half-masks that nearly everyone was wearing. The mask’s long noses were designed to make breathing and drinking possible, but they also resembled birds’ beaks. Combined with the cloaks that fluttered like so many wings, it didn’t take much fancying to imagine the crowd around them as a jumble of noisy parrots, just as Jane had said.
She laughed with him now, a sound he found even more merry than the hurdy-gurdy player who’d turned the steps of a nearby church into a musician’s gallery. A few couples danced on the pavement before him in an impromptu ball, and impulsively Richard seized Jane by the waist and joined them.
‘Richard!’ she exclaimed with surprise, then fell into step with him, laughing breathlessly as she did. As dances went, there wasn’t much finesse to their performance, and Richard doubted they were even doing the proper steps to fit the music, but he didn’t care. For joy and exuberance, it couldn’t be beat, and he was sure his Jane felt the same, her skirts twirling above her neat little ankles and her hand holding tight to his. The sight of her in the close-fitting Carnevale costume had stunned him; he’d intended the costume to please her, but he’d been astonished by the pleasure it had given him, too. He’d never seen her look so charmingly alluring except on that first night when she’d appeared at his bedchamber door in her nightshift. A very different impression, to be sure, but the effect on him had been the same.
He’d wanted her, wanted her so badly that he’d shocked himself. He’d been hard in an instant. The first time, he’d been appalled because he’d felt such desire for his daughters’ governess. Tonight he’d been equally horrified because it was Jane, his Janie, a woman he’d come to love and respect and outright enjoy more than any other since his wife.
Yet when he’d seen her standing before the glass in that cunning little costume, her breasts displayed as if begging for his caress, his one overwhelmingly male thought had been to toss her back upon her own bed and make love to her. It had seemed a shame to cover her up so completely in the required cloak, veil and hat, but Richard had to grant these Venetians did have an eye for beguilement. Though half of Jane’s face was hidden by the mask, the sheer black veil that fell nearly to her waist seemed magically to reveal more than it hid, giving her smile a delicious air of mystery, and making that shadowed glimpse of her breasts even more tempting as she danced with him.
But all too soon, the song came to an end, and Jane made him a charmingly foolish curtsy. She laughed, out of breath, and pressed her hand to her side.
‘Listen to me,’ she said, laughing still. ‘I’m laced so tight that I’m winded and wheezing like an old bellows!’
Before Richard could answer, another man dressed in the same black cloak, mask and black hat came forwards to take her hand, making some sort of bold declaration to Jane that Richard didn’t like at all.
‘Here now, none of your impertinence,’ he said curtly, stepping between Jane and the stranger. ‘The lady’s with me.’
The man shrugged and backed away, and pranced off to find another partner.
‘All the man wished was to dance, Richard,’ Jane said, taking Richard by the arm. ‘He meant no harm.’
‘You don’t know what the rascal meant.’ Richard was glad that beneath his cloak he wore his sword, as he always did when they went out at night. He knew Jane didn’t like it, but it was better to be careful than not, especially in a city like Venice. He’d been warned by many friends that all this gaiety could hide a great many villains, and as much as he wanted her to enjoy herself, he was also determined to keep her safe. Who knew how many poor sots were robbed each night and tossed into the canals to drift out to sea? ‘The fellow could have intended all manner of mischief towards you.’
‘Whatever he wished is of no importance now,’ she said winningly, her veiled smile still visible to him by the lanterns’ light. ‘The only intentions that concern me are yours. Do you mean all manner of mischief, too?’
‘Only if it involves you, my dear,’ he said gruffly. He wished he’d the grace to play the gallant to match these gaudy costumes.
She lifted the veil below her mask and reached up to kiss him swiftly, surprising him.
‘I’ll consider that a promise,’ she whispered close to his ear, and then laughed sheepishly at her own audacity. ‘I fear I’m not terribly good at being bold. Does that sound like Columbina?’
‘What it sounds like is very charming, and very wicked,’ he said, relaxing enough to laugh with her. The kiss might have disarmed him, yes, but he’d also taken notice of the quick glimpse of her corseted breasts when she’d raised her veil. She was doing a much better job of being bold than she realised.
‘Come, Columbina,’ he said, tucking her little hand into his arm. ‘The sooner I take you inside, the better.’
She laughed again, and together they made their way through the costumed crowds to the tall double-doors of the Palazzo di Dandolo. On account of the masks, no one was recognised as either a noble or a commoner by their face or person, but as soon as Richard presented their tickets, they were immediately ushered inside. The palazzo’s front hall was like all others in Venice—grand with gold-leaf stars on the ceiling, painted panels on the walls and tall columns of bright polychrome marble—but also burdened with a chill damp that no fire could ever ease. Footmen bowed them towards the staircase that led to the Ridotto itself, another wide room with a high, beamed ceiling. Eight-armed chandeliers of polished brass with glittering spun-glass drops hung low on long chains. Tables for the various games were arranged around the walls of the room, each with a cluster of anxious players around it, while other guests wandered about conversing or flirting with one another.
‘A bit dreary for a gaming room, isn’t it?’ Richard said as they paused in the arched doorway.
‘I think it’s beautiful,’ declared Jane beside him. ‘The masks make everyone look so mysterious, and the chandeliers are like fairy lights.’
He grunted, sceptical. ‘Fairy lights to hide how much you lose.’
‘Perhaps,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s one more pretty sight I wish to remember against some unhappy day in the schoolroom when none of my charges is behaving.’
‘Here now, no more talk of wretched schoolrooms.’ He didn’t like hearing her speak of her future without him in it, and he squeezed her hand fondly now, hoping to reassure her. ‘We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves, mind?’
‘That is true
,’ she said, and smiled up at him. ‘I doubt Columbina’s ever seen the inside of a schoolroom.’
‘Hah, I’d lay a guinea that she hasn’t.’ Without thinking Richard began to shrug out of his cloak, and an anxious footman hurried forwards to stop him.
‘He says you must keep the cloak on, Richard,’ Jane said, interpreting for the servant. ‘He says it’s the custom, as part of the disguise.’
‘I knew that,’ he admitted ruefully, and sighed. ‘It was just my custom as an Englishman to take it off. Ah, well, Columbina, let’s find a place, and pray that I’ll have better luck at the tables than at pretending to be Arlecchino.’
She looked up at him swiftly. ‘You’re going to play?’ she asked, clearly surprised. ‘You’ll wager?’
He chuckled, remembering that she’d been raised in a country vicarage. ‘Of course I’ll play. Why else come to a gaming house? Ah, here’s a faro table.’
‘You know how to play faro?’ she asked anxiously. ‘You’ve done it before? I’ve heard it’s a most perilous game.’
‘Not if you don’t let winning and losing go to your head.’ He grinned. He’d never been a confirmed gambler, not like other gentlemen he knew, but he was too competitive by nature not to relish the sport of it. Success at faro was more random chance than sharpster’s skill, and for that reason he’d always liked it. ‘Don’t worry, sweet. I’m not about to wager the deed to Aston Hall.’
‘But faro, Richard,’ she protested, scandalised. ‘What would your daughters say if they knew?’
‘They’d likely ask me to teach them how to play,’ he said easily, teasing. ‘For me it’s the sport, my dear, not the winnings. I vow that if I claim so much as a farthing, I’ll give it to the nearest Venetian orphanage. Will that settle your doubts?’
‘That would be generous of you,’ she admitted reluctantly, ‘and I suppose such charity would help ameliorate the sin of gambling.’
‘Quite,’ he said. ‘Pray stand behind my chair, Columbina, and bring me bella fortuna, eh?’
‘Bella fortuna, indeed,’ she said primly as he took an empty seat at the nearest table. ‘You are a constant surprise to me, your Grace, a constant surprise.’
He laughed, but none the less was pleased when she rested her hands on the high, carved back of his chair. Most likely she’d done it more so to be ready to whisk him from harm rather than for the good luck he’d asked for, but her concern pleased him. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman care for him like that, and he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it, almost as much as he’d missed having someone dear to him that he could spoil and fuss over in return. No wonder he was so happy in Jane’s company.
Happy, and now lucky. As soon as his cards had been dealt, he tossed several coins into the well in the centre of the table. To his right, at the far end of the oval table, sat the banker with a fresh deck of cards, while the croupe sat at the other end of the table, already shuffling the next deck. These gentlemen, as well as every other at the table, were as shrouded and masked as Richard was himself, making it impossible to discover any of the little ticks, frowns or other give-aways in the other players’ expressions. This truly would be a game of chance, and with that fatalistic thought, Richard folded down the corner of his first card to signify a double, or whatever it was called here in Venice.
The banker turned over his cards, one each on his left and right. He nodded to Richard to signify he’d won, and at once the croupe doubled the little pile of coins in the well before him. Richard nodded back, the only acknowledgement it seemed anyone was permitted to make. He left the now-doubled coins as his stake, folded his next card the same way, and won again.
And again. The pile of coins in his well had grown to a glittering heap, in marked contrast to the others at the table.
‘Richard,’ Jane whispered with awe behind him. ‘You’re winning.’
Richard nodded, concentrating on his next play. Though the mask would hide his face from the others, his heart was thumping with excitement. Another double, he decided, and when the banker dealt and showed his cards, he’d won again.
Gasps and low whistles accompanied the croupe as he pushed another pile of coins across the green cloth. Richard might not know every language being spoken around the faro table, but he could recognise the fervour of an oath in any tongue. Clearly his luck was both admired and envied, and he was wise enough to realise what a mixed blessing that could be. He knew perfectly well that the cards were just as likely to fall against him with the next hand and that he’d lose all he’d won, but damnation, who would have guessed he’d have such a run?
He rubbed his hand across his jaw, all the response he’d let himself display. It wouldn’t be wise to show more. But excitement was making his mouth as dry as a desert, and impatiently he glanced about for one of the servants who’d brought wine to several of the other players.
‘Where the devil have those fellows with the wine gone?’ he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
But of course Jane heard him. ‘I’ll fetch one,’ she said, and before he could stop her, she’d vanished from behind his chair into the crowded room.
‘Jane!’ he called after her, half-rising from his chair to try to look beyond the crowd that had clustered around the table to watch. She didn’t have to jump to obey him like this; she was here with him, not as his servant.
‘Signor,’ murmured the man seated beside him, recalling him to the game and the banker waiting for his play. Reluctantly Richard turned back to the table. Most likely Jane would be back soon enough, and, given her usual efficiency, with an entire vineyard in tow, too.
Jane herself would have been content to have found a single waiter. The room had grown far more crowded since they’d first arrived, and the costumed and masked figures that she’d found so enchanting then now felt oddly menacing as they pressed too closely around her, jostling her in the crush. She knew she was being foolish, scolding herself for imagining too much. Behind every white or black mask was an ordinary person, laughing and chatting and flirting and finding amusement just as she and Richard were.
Determined to find a servant, she tried to push her way through the bobbing sea of black cocked hats and cloaks. She gasped as someone brazenly fondled her bottom, yet when she jerked around to confront him, all she saw were more masks, more blank faces. She backed away, her heart racing, and as she did, someone clasped her arm and held her fast. She gasped again and struggled to pull free.
‘Hush, hush, cara mia, I intend you no harm.’ The man released her arm, and tipped his long-nosed mask up to show her his face. ‘I cannot express how happy I am to see you.’
‘Signor di Rossi!’ she exclaimed, flushing with dismay. ‘If you please, I cannot linger. I must find a waiter for wine for his Grace.’
She saw the disappointment flicker across his face at the mention of Richard. ‘You are here with the duke?’
‘Of course,’ she said swiftly. ‘I’d never come to such a place without him.’
He nodded. ‘Then you’ve no choice but to please him, yes? The banqueting room with the wine isn’t far. I’ll show you.’
She hesitated, wondering if she could trust him.
‘So that is how it is between us now, cara?’ he asked wearily. ‘And to think that once we were such grand friends!’
That was enough to prick her conscience. It had always been her nature to smooth over misunderstandings and make things peaceable, and though the rift between her and the signor certainly wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t bear for him to believe she’d been the one who’d broken their friendship. He had been exceptionally kind to her when she’d first arrived in Venice.
‘Is it far to the banqueting room?’ she asked. Truly, what could happen among so many others? ‘I can’t seem to find anything for myself in this crush.’
‘Then pray let me once again be your guide,’ he said, and dropped his mask back in place. ‘This way, if you please.’
‘Thank you, s
ignor,’ she said, and before she’d finished speaking he’d taken her arm again and begun leading her through the crowd. Jostled left and right by other revellers, she had to hurry to keep pace with di Rossi, her breath short from haste and from the unfamiliar stays of her costume. They left the gaming room, and turned down a hall that was also full, then turned again into a small, elegantly furnished parlour lit by a single candelabrum. But there was no banqueting table, no wine, and worse, no others in the room, and at once Jane realised she’d been misled.
Her heart racing, she jerked her arm free and turned swiftly towards the door, but the signor had no intention of letting her escape. He caught her about the waist and blocked her path.
‘Signor, please,’ she said, her voice sharp with fear. ‘Let me go. Let me go now!’
‘That’s not what you want, cara, not at all,’ he whispered. ‘In your heart, you know the truth. You want me, my little dove, not him. You want me.’
He pushed her against the wall and pinned her with his body, trapping her there as she struggled. He was so much larger than she was, so much stronger. Her fists flailing to defend herself, she managed only to knock off his hat and his long-nosed mask. Beneath it, his face was mottled and fixed, and her fear grew. She tried to strike him again, and he grasped her wrists together with one hand and held them over her head against the wall. He shoved aside her veil and seized her jaw, keeping her face steady, and kissed her hard. She gasped with shock as he plunged his tongue into her mouth, and she writhed against him as her revulsion grew with his demands. His kiss reminded her of a slobbering dog, or worse, of a dog worrying a bone, and at last she managed to free one of her hands. Blindly she reached between them to find one of the long straight pins that held her bodice in place. She pulled it free, and, before he’d notice, stabbed it into the underside of his arm.
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