What was it about Huntley that disturbed her so? Though she’d been tempted, she’d never allowed herself to be intentionally rude to a gentleman before. What was worse, he was Horatia’s nephew, and he’d be living with them. She gave herself a little shake. She would treat him like a brother. That would dampen any interest he might have in her.
“My lady, sit still,” her dresser said. Nugent had been Caro’s nursery maid and, before her come out, had trained as a lady’s maid, though that didn’t stop Nugent from chastising Caro as if she were still a child. “What’s got you so fidgety?”
She was tempted to raise her chin, but that would only earn her another rebuke. “I am not fidgety.”
Nugent twisted Caro’s hair into a top-knot. “I hear Lord Huntley is a handsome young man.”
“It doesn’t matter if he is.” Caro resisted huffing. “I’m not interested.”
“Harrumph. Time you started.”
A thought occurred to her, and she narrowed her eyes. “My mother hasn’t written to you, has she?”
“No, my lady.” Nugent concentrated on her work. “What business would her ladyship have writing me?”
“Well,” she mumbled, “someone did.”
“Did you say something, my lady?”
“No.”
Nugent nodded, and Caro thought she heard her maid say, “Good.”
She should let the whole topic drop. “I do not understand why you are suddenly so interested in men.”
“I’m not, but you should be.”
“Good heavens, why?” Before her maid could answer, the tines of a hair comb scraped her scalp. “Ow, that hurt.”
“I told you to stay still.”
Caro took a breath. She was going to end this conversation once and for all. “I’m perfectly happy as I am.”
“You’re not.”
Why did she have to have a dresser who had been with her since the nursery? “What makes you say that?”
“You deserve the life you were born to lead,” Nugent said in an uncompromising tone.
Caro ground her teeth. “You know very well all chances of that ended years ago.”
“The right gentleman wouldn’t think so.”
She took the strand of pearls from her dresser, wrapping them around her neck twice and allowing one loop to hang down, then added the matching earbobs. “I’m not talking about this any more.”
Nugent gave a wry look before busying herself picking up clothing. How maddening. Caro picked up her fan and reticule, and strode out the door. Running straight into the person in question.
His hands reached out to steady her.
“I’m sorry.” She kept her gaze averted from him. “I should have watched where I was going.”
He chuckled. A deep, soothing sound. Caro made the mistake of looking up. A smile lurked in his eyes, which hovered between green and blue. One dark brown lock of hair fell over his brow, and she itched to push it back into place.
Caro stepped sharply back. She wasn’t interested in Lord Huntley, she wasn’t. Men were not to be trusted. She had made that mistake before.
Huntley dropped his hands as anger flared in Lady Caro’s eyes, and she quickly retreated against the wall. What the devil had he done? “The mistake is mine.”
She dropped her gaze and shook out her skirts. “Perhaps we should both be more careful.”
He offered his arm. “Please accept my escort.”
Lady Caro nodded but didn’t place her hand on his arm as he’d expected. Instead, she made for the stairs, her back as straight as a poker. There was some mystery about Lady Caro, and he intended to discover what it was.
Horatia glanced at Huntley and Caro as they walked onto the balcony. A small smile played on her lips, and she lifted her wine glass, motioning him toward a long, narrow cabinet set against the wall.
He poured glasses of chilled white wine for himself and Lady Caro. She took a seat next to Horatia on the small sofa. He chose a chair on the side nearest to her.
“Huntley,” Horatia said, “there are quite a few English gentlemen in Venice this year. Shall I give you the directions to the clubs they frequent?”
He grinned. “Thank you, Horatia.”
Her green eyes twinkled with mischief. “I know how you gentlemen like to get away from the ladies on occasion.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “Would all women were so understanding. You’d make an excellent wife.”
She tilted her head and smiled. “I did make an excellent wife, and now I choose to please myself.”
Huntley sat forward a bit, bringing himself closer to Lady Caro. She took a sip of wine, but her breathing quickened. “Why is it you never remarried?” he asked his aunt. “Weren’t you quite young when Laughton died?”
Horatia chuckled lightly. “I was, indeed. Barely two and twenty. Yet I’d been married for five years to a man older than my father.” Her smile thinned. “I was fortunate. He was still well-looking and very kind. We had a happy and full marriage. If I’d gone back to England and allowed my father to marry me off again, I would have had no guarantee of the same treatment.”
Huntley saluted her. “I heard Grandfather wasn’t happy about that.”
“Was he happy about anything?” She glanced down and smoothed her skirts. “That was the reason I remained here. My husband left me a considerable independence and taught me how to handle my funds, so I did not have to marry again unless I wished to. So far, no man has captured my interest, and I doubt if I could bring myself to wed again now. I would lose too much freedom.”
Lady Caro drew his attention. Her face was serene, but nothing else about her was. He could almost feel the effort she made to remain still. “And what about you, Lady Caro? Are you waiting for a gentleman to sweep you off your feet?”
Lady Caro took another drink of wine. “I am not interested in marrying.” She glanced at him with her chin raised. “Anyone.”
“Indeed?” Keeping his gaze on her, Huntley sat back, toying with the stem of his glass. She’d included him in a broad swath that included all men, and he didn’t like it.
“Huntley,” Horatia said, breaking the silence, “to-night Caro and I are attending the opera. You may join us or find some male company. Though you might find the clubs a little thin of guests. Unlike in London, most of the gentlemen will be at the performance and the rout party afterwards.”
“I’d be happy to accompany you.” Perhaps then he’d discover how Lady Caro came to be in Venice and what she had against men.
Caro wished Godmamma had not invited Lord Huntley to accompany them to the opera, though there was really no way to avoid it. The way he stared at her was disconcerting, and she sincerely hoped he didn’t see her as a challenge. She’d spent the last five years making her life over and finding a quiet happiness. She’d not allow him to come along and upset all her plans.
Once they arrived at the
teatro
La Fenice, Caro spent a moment taking in the atmosphere. La Fenice was the first public opera house in Europe and no matter how many times she visited, it never failed to impress her. The
teatro
was much grander than the opera house in London. The interior had five rows of private boxes on each side, with seating in the gallery below as well, for those who could not afford a private box or chose not to sit in one. The whole place glowed with candles in crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling and in wall sconces. Paintings adorned each row of boxes, and gilt-covered plaster accented it all. The effect was magnificent.
Horatia’s box was located in the middle of the second row. Once they’d settled themselves and been served glasses of champagne, Lord Huntley raised his quizzing glass and surveyed the theater.
Not long afterwards, Mr. Throughgood, a good-natured young man who never bothered her, joined them.
“Huntley! I didn’t know you were here. Welcome to Venice.”
The two men clasped hands. “Chuffy, good to see you. I’d heard you were on your Grand Tour as well.”
“You’ll like it here.” A jovial man, he grinned broadly and bowed to Horatia and Lady Caro before addressing Huntley again. “How long do you plan to stay?”
“Several weeks at least.”
While they talked, Caro plied her fan. It was amazing how small and close the box became with two large men in it, particularly when one was Huntley.
“Huntley, Mr. Throughgood,” Godmamma said. “I’m happy for you to renew your acquaintance, but please do it in the corridor so some of my other friends can visit as well.”
The two men moved to the other side of the doorway. Caro took a sip of champagne and visited with some of the ladies who’d arrived. When she glanced back at Lord Huntley, Mr. Throughgood was introducing the Marchese di Venier.
Damn
. Caro moved farther away from the entrance. For some reason, the marchese refused to believe he irritated her, or any other woman for that matter. Hopefully, Huntley and Mr. Throughgood would keep the man occupied.
The marchese was a few inches shorter than Lord Huntley and more slightly built. The Venetian’s black hair shone with pomade in contrast to Lord Huntley’s more natural Brutus, which became his dark brown waves.
The marchese entered the box, swaggering toward her. Really, she’d made it clear enough, she did not wish him to court her. If he got too close, she had her hat pin. Fortunately, Lady Haversham, a friend of Horatia’s and Caro’s, caught the man by the arm and kept him in conversation until it was time for the performance to begin. Di Venier was becoming much too assiduous in his attentions.
Standing next to Chuffy, Huntley studied the Venetian and Lady Caro’s scowl as he entered the box. “Who exactly is di Venier?”
“His grandfather’s a duke,” Chuffy responded. “He’s descended from the Doges of Venice. Very powerful family even with the Austrians in control of the whole area.”
Huntley took a drink of champagne. The marchese glanced several times at Caro, but she studiously ignored the Venetian’s presence.
“We appear to be overrun with English,” the marchese drawled as he walked out of the box. “You are staying with Lady Horatia, are you not?”
Lady Haversham must have been gossiping. Huntley raised a brow. “She
is
my aunt.”
“Yes, of course.” Di Venier’s dark eyes became cold. “I will caution you not to indulge in any fantasies about Lady Caroline. I have other plans for her.”
“Indeed?” By the set of Lady Caro’s chin and the exasperated look she’d given di Venier when he left, it appeared she didn’t want anything to do with the man. “I hadn’t heard the lady was interested in any one in particular.”
Di Venier stiffened. “If she is not now, she will be.”
Not if Lady Caro objected to di Venier, and he was sure she did. Huntley lifted his quizzing glass and studied the Venetian, then, without glancing into the box, said, “You must excuse me. My aunt requires my presence.”
Di Venier scowled. “Remember what I said.”
This was like a bad play. Only a rogue would force his attentions on a lady after she’d made clear she had no interest. Tension thrummed through Huntley’s veins. Someone had to watch out for Lady Caro. She
was
under his aunt’s care, and he was the only gentleman in the house. In fact, considering she was Horatia’s goddaughter, she was practically family. One could argue it was his duty. Not to mention foiling the marchese might be good sport.
Once Huntley had taken his seat, he noticed that di Venier sat in a box located across and up one level from Horatia’s. His attention focused on Caro, his gaze like that of a hawk before it swoops down for the kill. An older gentleman next to di Venier held up a lorgnette, pointed it at Caro, and grinned. For her part, Caro kept her face averted, all her attention focused on the performance. If she was aware of di Venier’s interest, she gave no sign.
Huntley attended the opera in London a few times each Season, but he was not prepared for the exuberance of the Venetian opera. Once the performance began, the energy in the theater rose, as if the audience was part of the drama, cheering on the heroine and hissing at the villain.
Horatia leaned closer to him. “Very different to London, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would indeed. It almost seems as if the crowd will tear the scoundrel apart. Lady Caro, how do you find the opera here?”
Her face glowed with pleasure, though it was clearly only for the performance. “I enjoy it very much.”
Once again, she took his breath away. He wished she’d smile more often.
During the intermission, Caro moved easily among their visitors, conversing with gentlemen and ladies alike. However, when di Venier arrived, she once more ensconced herself in a group of ladies.
Huntley moved inconspicuously to hinder the marchese’s access to Caro. “Good evening, my lord. I must say, I’ve never enjoyed the opera as much.”
“Lord Huntley.” The Venetian inclined his head before taking a step forward.
Huntley didn’t move.
Di Venier’s jaw clenched. “I would like to speak with Lady Caroline.”
“You don’t want to go in there.” Huntley tilted his head toward the box. “It looks like a hen party. Not to mention there’s no room to move.”
In a low, rough voice, di Venier said, “Do not attempt to thwart me.”
“Then don’t do anything that would require me to step in.” Huntley waited until the marchese left before returning to his seat. He didn’t like the man’s attitude. The marchese acted as if Lady Caro were a piece of property to be fought over.
After the performance, the jockeying for position among the long narrow boats called
gondolas
was nothing remotely akin to the orderly departure of carriages in England. Horatia’s servants escorted them from the door to the docks. Once in the
gondola
, the ladies resumed their places in the
felze
, a small cabin in the middle of the boat. They arrived at the venue for the party, and as Horatia had said, it appeared as if most of the opera attendees were present. He escorted his aunt and Caro to nearby chairs, and Horatia was once more in a circle of friends. Chuffy found him, and he joined his friend’s group, a little apart from his aunt.