A Chance Encounter (St. John Series Book 10)

by Lora Thomas

  “What of you, Signore St. John?” Angela spoke in an attempt to make herself the center of attention. “Do you have any talent?”

  Oliver chuckled. “My dear, I am afraid my talent lies with a hammer and saw.”

  “Oh, come now. Do not be modest. Surely you have some talent other than carpentry? Dancing? Painting, perhaps?”

  Madelena and Oliver burst out in laughter.

  “Did I miss something?”

  “I regret to inform you that painting is far from my forte. However, I dance when the occasion calls, such as at soirees or balls.”

  “That is wonderful to hear. There is a ball at Signora Cancio’s the beginning of the week.” Angela cocked her head and batted her lashes at Oliver.

  “Signore Henshaw mentioned as much.”

  “Then I insist upon a dance,” Angela asserted.

  Oliver wondered why her parents weren’t scolding her for such a bold move? But Martin’s words rang in his ear. “Signora Russo is on the hunt for husbands for her daughters.”

  “I was not invited, Signorina Angela. It would be rude of me to arrive without an invitation.”

  “Then you will come as our guest,” Sandra jumped to say.

  Oliver’s eyes grew wide, and he resembled a lamb being led to slaughter. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You will come as our guest. Isn’t that right, Antonio? Nichole is a dear friend of mine and would not protest.” Sandra came to her feet. “In fact, I will pen her a note as we speak.”

  “There is no need to trouble yourself, Signora Russo—”

  “No trouble at all. Antonio, please keep our guest entertained while I go make arrangements for Signore St. John to attend Nichole’s ball.”

  “Why is she having a ball during Carnival?” Antonio asked.

  “Why, for us. The upper crust. Only blackguards and ruffians attend Carnival after dark and more so on the last evening.” With that, Sandra left the room.

  “Well, now,” Antonio said. “This has been an eventful evening, and it is growing late. Girls, please say your farewells to Signore St. John.”

  “But Papa,” Angela protested. She would not let Oliver slip through her fingers as Stephano Mortilini had. That little tart Mae Valenti swooped in and stole Stephano from her, but she would not let anyone take Oliver from her. No one! Not even her own sister. If need be, she would sabotage Flora’s dress to have Oliver to herself.

  “Signore Russo is correct. It is nearing ten. He is a busy man, and the streets are packed with people enjoying the revelry of Carnival.” Oliver had to get away from these marriage hungry females.

  “See, Angela, even our guest knows the rules of propriety.” Russo stood, and his daughters followed suit.

  Giving a polite bow, Oliver spoke, “Thank you for a delightful evening, Signore Russo. Your daughters are wonderful company.”

  Russo nodded.

  “I will show him out,” Madelena interjected, coming from the pianoforte.

  “That is very kind of you, Signorina Madelena,” Oliver acknowledged.

  Madelena rounded her sisters and stood at the doorway, waiting on Oliver. He followed her out to the front door but could feel the eyes of her sisters upon his back. He held in the desire to pull Madelena into his arms and kiss her in front of her prying sisters. It would serve them right. None of them could compare to Madelena in her kindness and spirit.

  Stopping at the door, Madelena opened it and handed Oliver his coat. Taking his coat, he slipped it over his shoulders.

  “Safe travels,” Madelena spoke, holding in the desire to touch him.

  Their eyes locked, and time stood still. Madelena was not certain how long they stayed gazing in each other’s eyes. The only thing she knew was disappointment when he broke the gaze. Heat filled her from head to toe as she felt him take her hand and place a kiss across her knuckles.

  “Until we met again, Maddie.”

  He stood and left.

  Madelena closed the doors, and her hand lingered longer than it should upon the wood.

  “He’s mine, and you keep your hands away from him,” Angela hissed.

  Madelena turned to find her older sister behind her.

  “You are to marry Signore Drakos. He’s mine.”

  Madelena squared her shoulders. “He is not property to claim, Angela. Signore St. John is no more yours than he is mine.”

  “Papa!” Flora protested in a shrill screech. “Do something! I want him for myself!”

  “Silence!” Antonio ordered.

  The hallway grew quiet.

  “All of you to your rooms. Signore St. John is here on holiday. Meaning a short stay. If you want him to stay longer then I suggest you quit squabbling over him like he is a toy and begin seeking him as a man you intend to marry. Which means, quit displaying yourself as spoiled children. It means to behave like ladies.” He turned his fury to Angela. “None of this trying to get his attention by thrusting your bosom out or inappropriate touching. If you act like a whore, then you will get a wastrel. If you behave like a lady, then you will get a gentleman. Understand?” When no one answered, he repeated with more force, “Understand?”

  “Yes, Papa,” Angela and Flora replied.

  “Good. Now go to your rooms. All of you.”

  “Not all of them,” Sandra said from the study door.

  Antonio forcefully exhaled. “What now?”

  “Madelena, I need a word with you. The rest of you go to your rooms.”

  Angela and Flora headed to the steps.

  After climbing up three steps, Angela turned to Madelena and sang, “You’re in trouble.”

  “And you are a child in a woman’s body.” Madelena proudly raised her chin and entered the study.

  Angela gasped, hefted her skirts and stormed to her room.

  Madelena approached the center of the room and waited for Sandra.

  The sound of the door quietly closing caused Madelena to cringe. She knew why she was called here. Sandra was curious about how she got out.

  Sandra rounded Madelena and stopped before her.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?” Madelena asked.

  “How did you get out? This was a dinner for your sisters, not you. And now you have ruined it.”

  “I was invited.”

  “St. John invited you, I did not.”

  “I am still a part of this family,” Madelena defended.

  “You are not my child. You never have been. Why would I invite you to eat at the same table as me? You are nothing but a harlot’s bastard.”

  “And she is my daughter,” Antonio said from the doorway.

  Madelena turned to view her father and was taken aback by the anger upon his handsome features. His brows were drawn together, creating a deep crevice between his brown eyes. A firm set to his mouth caused his jaw to appear more pronounced. And the rigidness to his spine caused him to appear taller.

  “So she is,” Sandra said.

  “You will remember this, Sandra. She is my daughter.”

  “But she is not mine.”

  “To the world she is. That is part of our bargain.”

  “Would you two quit acting like I am not in the room! I am right here. In the middle of you two. I do not know what bargain you had, and I do not care. I simply want to be treated equally in this family.”

  An unladylike snort left Sandra. “Equally? Your father has always placed you on a pedestal above your sisters.”

  “But you have the final say. You always have. Is that the bargain you made? You would stay silent about my birth for the rule of the house?” Madelena asked Sandra. She looked to her father for verification.

  “It is much more complicated than that,” Sandra said. “Now, how did you get out of your room?”

  “The door was unlocked. Guess you forgot to lock it.”

  “Never. I made certain that it was locked.”

  “When I came home this afternoon, I unlocked it,” Antonio said.

  “
How could you?!” Sandra protested, crossing the room to him. “You know she is to stay in her room. After what she did? Acting like a harlot. Seeking out a man for carnal satisfaction. Having a stranger take her virginity. All in hopes of ruining her marriage to Drakos.”

  “She is still my daughter, Sandra, despite the plans we have made for her. She will be allowed out.”

  “But her reputation—”

  “Nothing will be said of her reputation. All know the consequences should they soil my daughter’s name.”

  “Antonio! You cannot do this! I will not allow it!”

  “I can and I will. You have ruled this house too long, Sandra. I caved at your asinine requests and turned a blind eye to your extravagant spending in order to abide you. All in order to help purchase your silence. But no longer. Madelena will be allowed her freedom until her marriage.”

  A vindictive sneer came to Sandra. “Vico will know.”

  Antonio took a step and came closer to his wife. He towered over her, glowering down at his wife. “Speak one word and I—”

  “Will do nothing,” Sandra hissed. “What can you do?” She stepped away. “If it is known that she is your bastard, what do you think Vico will do? Madelena Russo, the bastard daughter of a slave. A slave that you bought with my dowry and then freed!” A maniacal laugh left her. “Do what you will, Antonio. If you try to harm me, then Vico will know, and your precious, precious Madelena will be taken away. Mayhap he will give her back to that sultan you bought her mother from. And you will be hanged. You know this to be true. Fornication is frowned upon in the church. Adultery is frowned upon in the church. You are a sinner, and no amount of penance will take away that stain. Either way, she will be out of my sight and out of my life. I will no longer have to look at Francesca’s image anymore. So, please, strike me. Kill me. You know what I say is true.”

  Antonio’s fists were coiled tight at his side as he resisted the urge to hit his wife, a bitch through and through.

  Sandra whipped around to face Madelena and was surprised to feel the sting of Madelena’s hand upon her cheek.

  “Do not threaten my father!”

  Sandra’s hand came to her cheek. “You dare to strike me?”

  “I do! I have had it! I am sick of your treatment of Father and me. Now that I know the truth, why continue with the masquerade of liking each other? Allow Papa and I to go our own ways.”

  “No. I have too much to gain from your father’s presence in my life. With you gone, men will come to court my girls. They will wed them, even if they have no desire. And do you know why? If they don’t, Antonio will make certain that unfortunate circumstances befall them.”

  “It's not true. Papa is a good man. He would never do misdeeds for your benefit.” Madelena looked at her father for his reaction. “Papa?”

  Antonio worked his jaw. Damn Sandra! He hated that woman with every fiber of his being. He wanted to wrap his hands around her throat and watch the life leave her body. No one but four people would miss her. Yet if he did, then her threats would hold true. Vico would harm Madelena, and he would not allow that to happen.

  “Papa?”

  “You will still marry Drakos.”

  His words were like a slap to Madelena’s ears. “What?!”

  “Your mother may—”

  “I am not her mother,” Sandra declared.

  “Sandra may be a cruel, hateful bitch, but she is correct. Drakos will keep you safe.”

  A triumphant gleam came to Sandra’s eyes.

  “No! You cannot do this to me!” Madelena beseeched.

  “You will remain in your room until you wed.”

  “No!”

  He addressed Sandra. “For appearance's sake, she will be allowed to attend any soirees we are invited to attend.”

  “I will not allow it.”

  Antonio turned. “I have spoken.” With that, he left.

  A haughtiness came over Sandra. She had won again. “Why are you still here? Go to your room.”

  “But—”

  “Now, Madelena. Your father will always take my side. Always. Now march.”

  Madelena turned and climbed the steps. When the door locked behind her, she sank onto her bed as she felt her heart tear at her father’s betrayal. Why was this happening to her? Her fingers fisted around her dress. She had to leave. She had money saved. She would buy a ticket on a ship leaving Italy and sail west. And perhaps along the way, the love she so desperately craved would find her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Oliver sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he stared at the cards in his hand. The sound of Stephano drumming his fingers upon the table did not help Oliver’s concentration. The smoke-filled room and men laughing did not aid in his thoughts. Each face upon the card staring back at him contained dark, seductive eyes, olive skin, inky-black hair and full, sensual lips. The queen of diamonds stared at him, her dress in colors of vibrant blues and greens. Hell, even the king of spades looked like the haunting image. Every card resembled the woman who had plagued him since their first meeting.

  “Are you going to play a card or sit there holding it like it will play itself?” Stephano asked.

  Grabbing a card, Oliver tossed it upon the table, not caring what he played.

  Stephano gave a quizzical glance. “You plan to trump my ten with a two?”

  “All part of my strategy.”

  “If losing is your strategy, then you are doing a smashing good job,” Martin said, playing a Jack. “I win.” Leaning forward, Martin slid the winnings his way. “I do say, your mind has been far from here all evening. What is troubling you?”

  “If I were a betting man, which I am,” Stephano said, “I would say a woman is the cause of his troubles.”

  “You don’t say?” Martin asked, taking the discarded cards from the table and shuffling them.

  “I am not troubled by any woman,” Oliver mumbled, taking a sip of the brandy in his glass. “Besides, what would make you the expert on this, Stephano? From what I can gather, you are as much of a rounder as the rest of us.”

  “Don’t place me in your current situation,” Martin said, dealing the cards. “I am quite happily married.”

  “Yet, here you are, in a gentleman’s club, drinking and playing cards with the rest of us bastards,” Stephano said, downing his drink.

  “Geneva is somewhat emotional presently. I cannot abide a crying woman.” Martin picked up his cards. “Your go, Oliver.”

  Oliver laid down an eight. “Expectant mothers are quite fickle.”

  Martin snorted. “If only she were fickle. Fickle I can handle. But all this blasted crying and moping, it tries one's nerves it does.”

  “Speaking of crying,” Stephano chimed in, directing the conversation to Oliver. “I heard you left the Russo girls in quite an emotional catastrophe the other evening.”

  “Don’t speak of those women to me.”

  “Oh, ho! We have struck a nerve,” Stephano said, placing a card upon the table. “So, which one of those…those…lovely women have captured your attention? Please don’t tell me it’s that Angela. She’s a troublemaker.”

  “No. It's not her,” Oliver snapped, forcefully tossing a three on the table.

  “Then it is one?” Martin inquired. “I told you not to go to that dinner. If Signora Russo knows you are interested in one of her daughters, you will never leave Italy without one of them as your bride.”

  “Sweet Judas, Martin. You are a bigger pain in the ass than my brothers.”

  With sincerity, Martin asked, “What did I do?”

  “You struck a nerve, that is what you did,” Stephano replied, his interest in Oliver’s love life now piqued. “So, which one?”

  “If you must know, I am being forced to attend that damned ball that”—Oliver looked at Martin—“your neighbor is throwing. I am being forced to escort Angela.” He looked at Stephano. “Who has her sights set for you is my guess.”

  “Me?” Stephano asked.
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  “Yes. She was rather taken with you at Marino’s the other night.”

  Martin added, “You have been visiting the Valentis frequently. It only makes sense. Since Angela can’t have you, she has set her sights on Oliver.”

  Oliver tossed his cards upon the table. “You bloody idiot! She doesn’t want me. She wants him, and since she can’t have him, she is trying to make him jealous through me.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I just do,” Oliver snapped, picking his cards back up.

  “I do say. That’s not it. One of Russo’s daughters has gotten to you.” Suddenly Martin’s eyes grew wide. “Was Madelena there?”

  “Shit,” Oliver mumbled, tossing his cards back down on the table and downing his drink.

  “Madelena Russo?” Stephano inquired. “I heard she is a beauty and rarely seen these days since it was announced she was to marry Miles Drakos.”

  “You say that like she has been in exile for years. I only heard it through the gossip a few days ago.”

  Stephano shrugged.

  “You have never met her?” Martin asked.

  Stephano shook his head. “No. I heard that she is beautiful and acts nothing like her sisters.”

  “Oh, she is beautiful.” Addressing Oliver in his usually meddlesome way, Martin asked, “So, was she there?”

  “Why am I friends with you?” Oliver asked, rubbing his forehead.

  Martin gave a cheeky grin. “Because I am the one person who can annoy you more than your brothers.”

  Stephano began, “So, Madelena was or was not there?”

  “She was,” Oliver bit out.

  “And is she as beautiful as rumor has it?”

  More so. “She is.”

  “Damn,” Stephano complained, leaning back in his seat. “I would fancy meeting a woman whose beauty is as legendary as hers.”

  Oliver shot a frustrated look at Stephano. “Legendary?”

  “Yes, my island friend. All who have ears know of Madelena’s beauty and Russo’s watchful eye of her.” Stephano looked around the room with suspicion. Leaning forward, he added in a whisper, “It is even rumored that she is not truly Signora Russo’s daughter but that of her husband’s lover.”