Venice

by Lynne Connolly

  “It is,” Richard replied shortly. “That Lord Strang is not this one.”

  Freddy’s heavy brows shot up. “Eh?”

  “He’s an impostor,” Richard explained tersely. “It’s his misfortune I chose Venice as well. By all accounts we should have been on the yacht enjoying an extended cruise or I should be in Devonshire, nursing my sick wife.”

  The footman brought some tea and I poured some for everyone, after the gentlemen refused anything stronger. I watched Freddy’s expressions as Richard explained the facts, starting from the time when we left the wedding breakfast.

  I had met Freddy for the first time at Exeter Assembly rooms, after my engagement to Richard had been formally announced. I liked him very much. His complexion was as dark as Richard’s was fair, and he possessed a pair of lazy brown eyes that seemed to take a great deal of amusement from life. He was one of Richard’s set, the men who had been on the town for some time but remained miraculously single. He dressed as well as my husband customarily did but with less attention to detail, the effect being of expensive carelessness.

  He was now under increasing pressure from his father to find a bride, particularly since Richard had announced his betrothal. His surviving parent reasoned that if Richard, who had been notorious for his amorous escapades, could find a bride, then it was time his son did too. In fact, that was one reason he had come here, as he explained to us when Richard demanded to know what he was doing in Venice.

  “Fact is, my father hasn’t stopped since your betrothal was announced and I thought I might kill him if he said ‘marriage’ one more time. So I made good my escape and came here. He might well have followed me to Paris,” he continued reflectively, sipping his tea, “but he won’t come to Venice. Says it’s too vulgar for his taste.”

  He let Richard laugh and nodded to me. “My father doesn’t like a place without a court in it. And he doesn’t count the Doge.”

  That made me smile. “But you’ve put us in quite a spot here, Freddy.” Richard put his tea dish on the table at his side. “Everybody knows you and I are well-acquainted. How many people know you’re here?”

  Freddy looked furtive. “Not many.”

  Richard looked at him thoughtfully. “Freddy, are you here on your own?”

  I burst into laughter when I saw Freddy’s face then and his indignant, “Really Strang! I don’t think that’s a proper question to ask, in the circumstances!”

  Richard looked at me where I sat, still laughing and smiled. “I know my wife has led a sheltered life up till now but even she would guess what you were doing here sooner or later.”

  I found a handkerchief and wiped my eyes. “It’s not only that. It was the whole experience this morning. To see you calling that man ‘my lord’ and his graciousness and then he said his sort didn’t engage in commerce!”

  “He said what?” Freddy said, temporarily diverted. “Half the upper five hundred are supported in one way or another by some sort of commerce! What does he think we are—French?”

  That only set me off again and when I looked at Richard, I laughed more. He looked at me questioningly. “It’s the wig!” I managed then, trying to control myself.

  Freddy joined in and admitted a similar impulse to laugh had consumed him when he had first seen Richard in the wig, hurrying down the stairs at the Barbarossa. “Are you going to wear it all the time you’re Mr. Locke?”

  “Only if I’m not met with deadly seriousness,” said the only serious person in the room.

  Richard left the room, returning within five minutes in one of his usual wigs, which did much to restore him to his usual self. He was in a good temper, though and by that time, Freddy and I had managed to control our mirth and return to being respectable members of society, although in Freddy’s case, not quite respectable enough.

  “Who have you brought with you, Freddy?” he asked, determined on revenge.

  Freddy grimaced. “Really, Strang, not the question with ladies present!”

  I looked as innocent as I could manage. “Would you like me to leave the room, sir?”

  “Not at all,” Richard said. “Since he has seen fit to admit it, the least he can do is to tell us who it is.” He looked enquiringly at his friend, the picture of polite concern.

  Freddy turned slightly pink, but had to give in. “Charlotte Outridge.”

  “Dear Lord!” Richard said. I longed to ask him if he had known the person in the past, but I thought it might be going too far. “That must be costing you a pretty penny!” He must have read my thoughts, because he looked me in the eyes and said, “No.”

  He turned to Freddy then. “I’m sorry, Freddy. It was something we were—talking over this morning. I won’t ask you any more questions, I promise.”

  Freddy looked from one to the other of us curiously, but said nothing.

  I poured more tea, regaining my serenity. “The thing is,” said Richard thoughtfully, as he accepted his refill with a smile. “What are we to do now?”

  I took my seat. “What are our choices?”

  “We can have the man arrested,” Richard said.

  I wasn’t so sure I liked that idea. “They did rescue me on the road. I owe them something for that.”

  “Very well, we’ll put that aside for the time being. We could tell them who we are and let them go. That would be the sensible option.” He paused and watched us, then continued. “But where would be the fun in that?”

  “You shouldn’t look for fun in it,” Freddy demurred, but then spoiled his effect by smiling. “But they have rather put themselves in your path, haven’t they?”

  Richard grinned back at him. “I would call it an invitation.” His face lost the smile. “But I do want to keep them under observation. If the people who tried to kill us on our wedding day turn up, I don’t want them here. I want them there. These people are useful decoys.”

  “Rather hard, Strang.”

  He shrugged. “They’re being watched. I’m doing my best to see they come to no harm. But it’s more important Rose is safe. If there’s even a whisper of danger to her, I’m taking her away.” Freddy looked at us again.

  Richard put his tea-dish down and sat very still, something I associated with his more unusual thoughts and ideas. “I rather thought that we could plan something between us that would keep them busy. I’ve a fair idea what their game is.”

  “I had begun to wonder,” I admitted.

  “And what did you think, my dear?” He turned to me, steepling his long fingers and flexing them together.

  I had, indeed, been thinking. “They don’t need such a grand setting to set up a card-sharping exercise. But I believe they enjoy their masquerade and I think they’re planning something bigger. They must know what a risk they’re taking by doing this so the rewards have to be worth it. They might be playing with us and several other people for all we know. I think they’ll come up with a business venture.”

  Richard threw his head back and laughed, a short bark of laughter. “Ha, I knew I’d chosen well when I married you! Oh yes, a business venture. We have to be dazzled by them, don’t we, so they will suggest a brilliant money-making scheme that can’t fail.”

  Freddy saw, only a few moments behind us. “Then they disappear with the money. How did you know they were card sharps, by the way?”

  “I asked people,” Richard said simply. “Freddy, can you come to dinner?”

  “Yes, of course. I have to send word to—to—”

  “Miss Outridge,” I finished for him.

  He flushed. “Yes. But it would be an honour to spend more time in your company, ma’am.”

  “Half past two for three?” I suggested.

  “That would be delightful, my lady,” he replied.

  Richard smiled. “We can draw up some kind of plan then. And please, Freddy, don’t tell anyone we’re here.”

  “Who would I tell?”

  WHEN HE HAD GONE, RICHARD turned to me, smiling. “Hungry?”

  I sh
ook my head. “Not particularly. Are you?”

  He smiled, stood and held out his hand to me. “Not for food.”

  I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. “Have we time? Isn’t there something else we should be doing?”

  “Nothing more important than this.” He drew me into his arms.

  We went into the bedroom and frightened a maid who wasn’t expecting us at this time of day. She scuttled out of the room, but I had no eyes for anything but Richard and he didn’t look at anyone but me.

  We were everything to each other now and in the course of a few days I had come to love the intimacy. It had even become necessary to me. Not the lovemaking alone, but having him close, feeling his warmth, hearing his voice. I had loved him before, when our experiences of intimacy were necessarily brief and clandestine, but now, when we could linger and enjoy the experience, I loved him more than ever. He was unfailingly considerate, courteous even and as I told him when we were once more naked and lying together side by side, more than I had ever expected, even from him.

  “I’m curious to know what you did expect,” he said.

  I smiled. “I know I’m fortunate. Most women look on this as a duty, a responsibility.”

  “Are you sure?” he said gently. “My experience has been just the opposite.”

  I sighed and lay back, unable to resolve the conflict. “Perhaps marriage does something to people.”

  “Only to the wrong people. That is, people who are wrong together. Not us.”

  He put his hands on my waist and ran them up to cup my breasts and thumb the nipples until they were stiff and then laughed softly at my sigh of delight as he did so. “No, not us,” I agreed, as I opened my mouth and my body to him, an invitation he accepted with as much pleasure as I gave.

  WHEN I WENT INTO THE dressing room and called for Nichols, I found my luggage had finally arrived and I could wear something more cheerful than Mrs. Locke’s drab garments. I found a yellow figured silk gown and petticoat, embroidered and flounced, fine lace for my elbows and neck and filigree gold jewellery. Nichols dressed my hair to perfection until it gleamed, leaving a curl to drop forward on to my shoulder. Not for the first time, I wondered at her genius in turning my unruly mop of curls into such an elegant creation.

  When I went into the drawing room, I found Richard’s luggage had also arrived, as had Freddy. They were both dressed in the height of fashion, in such style as would make Mr. Ravens’ mouth water. I was pleased to see Richard was once again wearing the diamond solitaire at his throat.

  They smiled and bowed and Richard came forward to take my hands. “Much better.”

  As we looked at each other, the memory of our siesta came back to both of us. We glowed with it and it was then Freddy made his discovery. “By God, it’s a love match!”

  Richard turned his head then to look at Freddy. “Yes, of course. Who wouldn’t love her?” His simple tribute meant so much to me, much more than any fulsome compliment would have done. He led me to a sofa where we sat together, his hand lightly over mine.

  Freddy studied us. “I knew you liked each other, but—” He shook his head.

  Richard shrugged. “The day I met Rose I knew I wanted her for my wife and I’ve never regretted my decision since. Yes, Freddy, it’s a love match.”

  Freddy laughed. “Society doesn’t think so. Your mother, Richard, has put it about that this is a dynastic arrangement. Since your sister failed to come up to scratch with the last Lord Hareton, you did your duty with the sister of the present one.”

  Richard stood, went over to the sideboard and poured some glasses of wine from a freshly filled decanter. He brought them over for us. “I’d heard something of the sort. Very clever of her,” he said indifferently, handing his lordship his glass. I was sorry for his careless attitude to his parents, but I felt I didn’t know enough about them yet to be able to help in any way. Certainly his parents seemed cold towards him but that might have been as much his fault as theirs. He had repudiated them along with the rest of society when they’d sent Gervase abroad, but they may have had little choice. I knew little of that time, only of the misery it caused the twins.

  He sat down again. “So Society thinks I have contracted an arranged marriage?”

  Freddy smiled at us. “For now, yes it does, but if any of its members sees what I’ve just seen, the scales will drop from its collective eyes. Do you want anyone to know?”

  Richard stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. “Thank you for asking, Freddy. I think we might let matters take their course.” He turned his attention to me. “Should you welcome society knowing of our feelings for each other, my love?”

  I didn’t need to think. “I don’t care who knows. At least it might help to keep your old lovers from the door.”

  Richard gave a crack of laughter, at my frankness and at Freddy’s evident surprise. “My wife doesn’t believe in equivocation.”

  At that moment a footman came in to announce dinner was ready so we went in, informally since Freddy couldn’t provide a partner. Over the course of the meal I found him extremely good company. He was in many ways the antithesis of my husband; relaxed where Richard was alert, careless in appearance where Richard preferred meticulous elegance, dark where he was fair, but they were the product of the same kind of upbringing, always in the public eye. This kind of informality, an ordinary occurrence to me, was rare and precious to them. I knew my husband well now, but I didn’t know Freddy, or if his pose was real or assumed. He seemed genuine to me.

  This was a new experience, to be alone with two gentlemen, even in the presence of servants, but this aspect of the dinner didn’t occur to me until later. It was one of the privileges allowed a respectable married woman in our world, more freedom in society.

  I enjoyed that meal and the company but I must have drunk more wine than I should, for towards the end I felt quite giddy. I was pleased to leave them for a short time afterwards. I had tea served to me in the drawing room.

  When they rejoined me, they didn’t immediately sit. Richard held out his hand to me and with a smile I stood up and laid my hand in his. He gave me a wicked smile. “I’ve been telling Freddy how well you play and how evilly you dance. We thought, if you didn’t object, we could go into the music room and persuade him to pick out some minuets. I’ll see what I can do to help you to dance without watching your feet or counting.”

  I sighed in relief. I wasn’t in any state to demonstrate any kind of prowess on the harpsichord. My fingers might get lost, but I would willingly try to improve my dancing skills.

  Richard had been amused by the way I had to watch my feet during the Grand Minuet we danced at our wedding. I’d had very little practice outside the schoolroom, especially at the formal dances at the beginning of an evening. To make matters worse, when my younger sister Lizzie had been learning the steps, she’d recruited me to take the part of the gentleman, which made my confusion even worse. I was sadly aware of my lack of prowess and I’d determined to practise when I had the chance. I didn’t wish to let my elegant husband down.

  Freddy sat at the harpsichord and began on the flourish at the start of the dance. Richard sketched an elaborate bow. “Mind your steps, my love.”

  I stumbled, but he wouldn’t let me stop and he commanded I kept my attention on his face. “This is a courtship dance, a dance of flirtation, sweetheart. Seduce me.” That made me worse. I could see this amused him by his smile. A tease. These days everything turned into a precursor to making love. Or did I only think it?

  I wouldn’t give up. After two tries, I began to improve. “I haven’t done this since Georgiana’s come-out,” he said, referring to his sister. “You are at least aware of the moves. If she moved the wrong way once, she did it a thousand times.”

  “I’ve never had enough practice really,” I said over my shoulder to Freddy. “Wouldn’t you like to stop for a while? You’ve played a long time for us.”

  “Indeed he has,” Richard agreed.
“Shall we change places, Freddy? I’ll play for a while and then I can watch and see if we can’t improve the style.”

  Freddy willingly rose and took my hand and at once Richard stopped us. “No, Rose. Let your hand droop slightly at the wrist, as though it’s an effort to hold it there. There! That’s just what I mean.” I had to laugh because Freddy demonstrated Richard’s instruction, looking every inch the fragile lady of fashion. We stopped while I had a drink and restored my equilibrium and then I tried to do what he said.

  I found Richard an exacting instructor, but patient. He made me do certain moves over and over until he got to his feet, saying; “Here, Freddy, can you do the lady’s part?”

  “I blush to admit that I can,” Freddy said. “Unlike you, Richard, I had younger brothers to teach.”

  I played while they danced. I kept the tune simple, keeping to the basic structure so I could watch them, but I could play no more when I became helpless with laughter. Richard, my delicate, graceful husband, leading the heavier, altogether more masculine Freddy, was funny enough, but the gentleman was a glorious mimic. He simpered, smiled invitingly and tipped his chin up when Richard went too far and winked at him. He borrowed my fan and showed how a lady could use it during the dance to enhance the movements of her arm, bending it “Just so.” When they realised my amusement had gone so far I couldn’t play any more, they continued, relentless in their mimicry. Richard counted the beats aloud so they could keep their rhythm.

  They only stopped when a footman came in to light the candles. Richard sat heavily and looked at me, laughing. Freddy sat too and drank deeply from his glass. I thought they needed a reward and a time to breathe, but I was beyond fine playing. I found a light piece and turned to the keyboard. They listened in companionable silence and when I finished I turned and smiled brightly, bowing my head for their applause.

  I complimented Freddy on his mimicry, telling him how much I had enjoyed it and I could see Richard’s smile fade and his eyes gaze into the distance. He was plotting.

  Then he spoke. “Do you remember our little problem? The impostor?” His eyes gleamed as he turned them back on us. “Rose is right; you’re a good mimic, Freddy. Would you like to help us with this little enterprise?”