Huntley leaned against a support column, sipped his coffee, and watched the
gondolas
plying their trade along the side of the canal. The water sparkled blue and fresh in the morning sun. Women never seemed to understand men. Di Venier was not only determined but obsessed. Removing to a location within two days of Venice wouldn’t help. In fact, the more rural area might even help the scoundrel. “He’ll follow.”
Sighing, Horatia set her cup on the table. “If you are sure . . . Bother. We will have to come up with something. Oh, why did the dratted man have to return to Venice? We all went on perfectly well without him.”
Huntley turned from the view and leaned back against the balustrade. “There must be someplace we can take her . . .”
“I’ll not leave Venice.” Caro stood in the doorway to the balcony. One hand held a cup, and the other curled into a tight fist. “This is my home. I’ll not run away again.”
Her face was militant, and Huntley admired her spirit. Venice had been Caro’s refuge for five years, and she loved the city. Of course she wouldn’t want to leave, but this place was no longer safe for her. Hell, the country wasn’t safe. “A few weeks ago, di Venier killed a thirteen-year-old girl because she wouldn’t service him. A novice who was ready to take her vows. He may be planning to abduct you.”
Her eyes few wide. “Oh God, no.” China tinkled as the cup and saucer in her hand shook. “How could anyone do such a thing? We’ll tell the local authorities.”
Huntley shook his head slowly. “You’re a foreigner, and his family is extremely powerful.”
She placed the thin china cup down on a table. When she spoke, the faintest thread of fear could be heard through her defiance. “But the Austrians, surely they will do something. The man cannot go around accosting ladies and there not be consequences.”
Huntley started to rise to go to her, then sat back down. She wouldn’t welcome his touch, and all he wanted to do was take her in his arms to comfort her. Rarely had he felt so helpless. “They will agree his manners toward you are poor, but we have no proof of anything else.” Why was she being so difficult? “Don’t you understand how vulnerable you are if you stay?”
She remained standing, staring out through the doors as if she couldn’t believe what he’d told her. “I’m not a victim. I won’t be.”
He ran a hand through his hair, a habit that he’d developed since meeting Caro. “Sit down, please. We must decide what to do.”
“My lady.” His aunt’s majordomo, La Valle, bowed. “The Duca di Venier is here to see you.”
Horatia took a breath. “Did he say what it was about?”
“No, my lady.”
Rising, she shook out her skirts. “Very well, show him into my study and tell him I shall be with him directly. Place two footmen inside the door.”
He bowed again. “Yes, my lady.”
Horatia turned to them, her face tight with worry. “This cannot be good. The duke has never come here before. Caro, my dear, you may have run out of time. Make your plans.”
Back straight, Horatia went to meet the duke.
When Huntley turned back to Caro, her countenance was alive with tension. She glanced at him. “What could he want?”
Rapidly reviewing their options, Huntley said, “Let me take you back to England.”
Her eyes flew open like a wild animal ready to flee, yet her voice was firm. “No.”
That was obviously not a good suggestion. Very well, then, not England. He rapidly reviewed the places he could escort her to and not cause a scandal or have them be forced into marriage. Caro wouldn’t appreciate that at all. Where? “Paris is an option.”
Caro strode the length of the balcony and back, skirts snapping around her ankles. After a few moments she stopped. Her lips set into a line. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
He kept his voice even. “Not one I can see.”
She blinked rapidly, then picked up her cup and sipped. “Very well. When would you like to depart?”
Horatia returned to the balcony. Small lines bracketed her lips as she tightened them. Her fine eyes flashed in anger. “You’d better leave as soon as possible. The duke was here to make a formal offer for your hand on the behalf of his grandson, the Marchese di Venier. It was not an offer he was prepared to see refused.” She took a breath and continued, her voice grave. “I told the duke it was impossible for you to marry the marchese as you were already betrothed to Huntley.”
CHAPTER 3
“Y
ou told him what?
” What in God’s name was Godmamma thinking? She knew Caro couldn’t marry. She rubbed her forehead and couldn’t bring herself to meet Huntley’s steady gaze. “Surely there was another way.”
Her godmother picked up a cup, then frowned at the now cold pot of tea. “Well, my love, he was insistent that you marry his grandson, and you are two and twenty.”
“What,” Caro asked, though not sure she wanted to hear the answer, “does my age have to do with it?”
“The duke would not have believed you have no wish to marry.” Her godmother fiddled with a bangle on her arm. “Add to that what Huntley told us about the young man’s temperament.”
“
Temperament!
” Caro clenched her fists. “The man is a beast.”
Horatia nodded. “Indeed, so it just”—she took a breath—“well, it seemed the prudent thing to do at the time.”
“Prudent?” Caro resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead tilted her head back to gaze at the ornately painted ceiling. The happy, frolicking cherubs weren’t helping.
“Yes, of course.” Her godmother smiled as if it all made sense. “You must see how fortuitous having Huntley here is. He was the perfect excuse.”
Why did this have to happen now? Her life had been going so well. Caro drew a breath and glanced at him. His countenance showed not even a hint of what he was thinking. It didn’t matter. An engagement to Huntley was impossible. He’d discover her secret, and it would be a disaster.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” she demanded, trying to get a rise from him. “Godmamma committed you as well.”
He raised a calm, aristocratic brow.
Drat the man
.
He cannot want this
. If half the talk she’d heard was true, he didn’t wish to marry yet. How could he be so composed?
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, a sardonic smile on his face. “You may jilt me when you’re safely in Paris.”
Caro threw up her hands. “Why do I have to be the one to do the jilting?” Her voice cracked. “I already have a reputation as a jilt. This isn’t going to help. I just want to live alone, in peace.”
“You know perfectly well,” Horatia said tartly, “Huntley cannot end the engagement.”
Caro passed a hand over her forehead. She needed to get herself under control. “You’re right, of course.”
Huntley drank the rest of his coffee and stood. “We should leave this evening at the beginning of the normal dinner hour.” He looked at her. “Before the men di Venier has watching the house arrive.”
“He’s doing what?” Caro gasped. “How dare he?”
“He apparently dares quite a bit,” Huntley drawled. “If we depart to-night, we won’t be missed until to-morrow. We’d nothing planned for this evening, did we?”
Her godmother shook her head. “No, nothing. How far do you think you will be able to travel?”
“I—we,” he amended, “will try to make Padua.”
“I know an inn there,” Horatia said. “Caro knows it as well.”
Caro bit her lip. This was no time to fall apart. “Very well.” Traveling alone with Huntley?
No, it was not possible.
“But, Godmamma. I—I cannot.”
“Caro, my love, there is no choice. We cannot all leave at once. I have to make arrangements for the house and a number of other things.”
“What,” he asked, frowning at Horatia, “will you do after we’re gone?”
Horatia was quiet for a moment. “I shall travel to Genova and take a packet to Marseille. It will probably take a full week for me to arrive at the port. You must be in Austria by then.”
“Horatia,” Huntley said, “are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“Yes, of course.” She gave them a tight smile. “We shall meet in Nancy at the main inn that I’ve heard of, on the Rue de Guise. It’s time I visited France.”
Caro took a deep breath. This was really happening. They were leaving Venice, and she would be alone with Huntley. She wasn’t ready to accept defeat yet. “We can travel faster and go with you.”
Her godmother smiled gently. “I shall try to cover your absence and leave in no more than two days time with great pomp. I have no doubt I will be stopped by someone in the duke’s employ.”
She took Caro’s hands and met her gaze. She had never looked more serious and, for the first time, Caro knew her godmother was afraid for her.
“The two of you must be as close to the Brenner Pass as possible by then.”
Biting her lip again, Caro nodded. If di Venier followed, perhaps her betrothal to Huntley truly was the least of her worries. After all, not many of her countrymen would be traveling at this time of year. They’d want to be home at Christmas. No one would even know about the engagement. “I’ll have Nugent pack.”
Horatia went to a small marble side table and poured a glass of wine. “I’ve already given orders to your maid. You may take only a small valise with you. The rest of your baggage will meet you in Padua.”
To her disgust, Caro began to weep. It was all too much. Once again, her life was being ruined by a man. She searched in her pocket for a handkerchief and found one being pressed into her hand. She glanced up. “I don’t usually cry.”
Huntley’s eyes held a compassion she’d not seen there before. “If this is the worst that happens, I daresay we’ll muddle along well on this trip. If it makes you feel any better, I’d rather not go back either.”
When she tried to return his handkerchief, he motioned for her to keep it. There was so much to do, and she was having such a difficult time thinking. “I need to go to the orphanage and tell the children I’m leaving. I cannot just disappear.”
Huntley shook his head. “It may not be safe. Neither the duke nor his grandson will be happy about our betrothal. After what Horatia said and the plan . . .”
She closed her eyes. “The plan to abduct me.”
“Write them a letter. It is the best you can do at the present.”
“Yes.” As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. The thought of being snatched by di Venier, having him touch her—her skin crawled in disgust. “I suppose you’re correct.”
Her godmother squeezed Caro’s hand and kissed her cheek. “Try to rest as well, my dear.”
“Yes, that will probably help.” Caro left with what dignity she could muster and strode swiftly to her apartment. She penned her notes, holding her tears at bay until the last one was sealed, before she threw herself on the bed and wept.
Her dresser, Nugent, stopped packing and handed her a cool, wet cloth. “Put that on your eyes or they’ll be all puffy.” When Caro had taken the cloth, her dresser continued. “It’s not what you wanted, but you mark my words, it will all turn out the way it’s supposed to.”
The aggravating part was she was almost always right.
“Thank you, Nugent.”
Nugent continued to pack. “He’s not a bad-looking gentleman.”
Caro hugged a large pillow. “Lord Huntley? No, I suppose not.”
Her dresser closed the last trunk and turned. “Got nice brown hair.”
“Whatever you’re thinking, cease. It wouldn’t matter if he looked like Adonis. I’m not going to marry him.”
He was well-looking. Not that it mattered. Just the idea of a man touching her made her feel dirty, like the marsh water in the fens.
Once they met up with Godmamma, Caro and Huntley could say they found they didn’t suit. Then it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault. They were not going to marry. “Nugent, give me something to do.”
Huntley and Horatia sat at the balcony table. Sun glinted off the water, and a woman on the bridge, selling her wares, called out. He pinched his nose. The news of their betrothal was not nearly as unwelcome to him as it was to Caro. Fortunately for him, she did not seem to understand at all how easily they could be forced into marriage; especially traveling alone with only her maid to lend them countenance. If anyone either of them knew saw them, the game would be up.
“Any idea on making her more malleable?”
His aunt smiled wearily. “Share the planning with her. She likes to keep busy.” Horatia was silent for a few moments. “Huntley, you’re taking this very well. Many gentlemen would not. Could it be you have intentions toward Caro?”
He had the odd sensation of wanting to run a finger under his neckcloth. Any thoughts he had must be put on hold for the time being. “I am merely looking at this as an adventure. Rescuing a fair damsel from an evil marchese.”
God, he sounded like his sister Ophelia.
Horatia raised a brow and stared at him consideringly before shaking her head. “It is not my story to tell.”
The cravat loosened. “About Caro?”
His aunt furrowed her brows and nodded. “Um.”
He held his breath for a moment, waiting for her to go on; when she didn’t, he asked, “How bad was it?”
“Very.” Pouring another glass of the chilled white wine, she gazed out at the canal. “I hope Caro learns to trust you enough to tell you.”
He hoped so as well. He looked around the large drawing room. He’d miss the view and the bustle of the gondolas. He’d miss Venice, but duty called, and he had to help the most recalcitrant member of the female sex he’d ever met escape a blackguard. “Well then, I’ll go see how my valet is coming along and visit the bank. If you get the note from Caro, I’ll stop by the orphanage as well.”
He left his aunt sitting at the table and wondered how long she’d have to stay away from Venice. When he entered his chamber, his valet, Maufe, was folding the last of his jackets. “How much more is there to do?”
“Almost finished, my lord. I’ve been informed the baggage shall precede us.”
Huntley gazed around the room. “Yes. I want you and Collins to travel ahead with the trunks.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Maufe spoke Italian, and Huntley’s groom, Collins, knew how to use a coaching pistol. “Do you know how to use a gun?”
His valet’s eyes opened wide. “I was taught, my lord, though it’s been many years since I’ve fired a weapon. Do we plan to be in danger?”
Huntley cracked a laugh. “I don’t plan to be, no. But I would like to be ready.”
Maufe stopped what he was doing. “To the point of marriage, my lord?”
“There’s no point in trying to bamboozle me. I know you’ve heard all the gossip. Nothing’s a secret in this house.”
“As you say, my lord. You do seem to have a partiality toward the lady.”
Not Maufe too? So much for hiding his interest in Caro. “Right now I just want to get the lady and me out of this with both our reputations intact. It’s getting to be late in the year. I trust we won’t run across anyone we know between here and there.”
Maufe’s answering grunt wasn’t comforting. If Caro agreed to marry him, he wanted it to be of her own free will. He had the distinct impression a forced marriage would be disastrous.
“Will Lady Caroline’s dresser and her groom travel with you, my lord?”
Huntley faced his valet. “Yes, I suppose they must. Her maid, at any rate. Please ask her groom to attend me.”
Maufe closed the last trunk and left the room.
A quarter hour later, an imperious knocking sounded on his door. Who the devil was that? “Come in and stop making that infernal noise.”
The door crashed against the wall and Lady Caro stood in the doorway, her chest heaving with indignation. “My servants are not yours to command.”
Damn
. He should have known she wouldn’t take any perceived high-handedness well. Huntley rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
He kept himself from smiling as she opened her lips and closed them again, stunned. She’d been preparing for battle, but he didn’t want to fight with her, at least not now, before they could make up properly. “Can you tell me if your groom knows how to shoot?”
“Yes, of course he does, as do I,” she replied haughtily. “Why?”
“I’m sending my valet and groom ahead with the baggage. I don’t want to leave us unprotected.”
She blinked and her eyes narrowed. “Don’t
you
know how to shoot?”
“Of course I do.” He gave her a disgusted look. What gentleman didn’t know how to handle a gun? “But if they come after us, I want to have more than just me to defend us. I’ll guarantee you there will be more than one of them.”
“Oh, of course, I understand. He is well versed in weapons, as are my maid and I.” She gave him a rueful look. “Please, in the future, if you have need to speak to one of my servants, ask me.”
“I will.” What else could he say to put her mind at ease? “You should have your maid sleep in the room with you.”
She’d turned to go and stopped. “Thank you. Your suggestion is very considerate.”
After she left, Huntley sank into a chair on the small balcony.
Damnation
. This was going to be a very long journey if she fought him every step of the way. There must be some way to come to an accord with her.
Later that afternoon, with the luggage on its way and his errands accomplished, the only thing to do was wait until it was dark enough to depart.
Horatia had ordered antipasti, breads, and cheeses to be served on the drawing-room balcony. After the meal, Caro left. Horatia sighed. “I shall miss this.”
She was giving up her life for Caro, but he would not have expected anything less from his father’s sister. Caro was the closest thing to a child Horatia had. “How long must you remain gone?”
Her eyes swam in tears when she glanced at him, but she smiled. “For a couple of years, probably. Though I do not know if I shall ever return. I had never seen this nastiness before, and I am not sure once one does see that, one can return.”
He was quiet for a few moments. “What will happen to your house?”
Her smile broadened. “Thinking of everything? You are my brother’s son. I have an agent. He’ll take care of it. I might lease it.”