Finessing the Contessa

by Wendy Soliman

  Falzone shook his head. “That’s not possible, cara mia,” he said gently. “It must be some sort of sick joke.”

  The brothers shared a glance. “Who’s Constanza?” Rob asked.

  “She was my son’s nursemaid,” Electra said bleakly. “She was in the carriage with my husband and son and perished alongside them.”

  “Except it would appear she didn’t perish,” Falzone added, taking the letter from between Electra’s slack fingers. “This is dated a week ago. Besides,” he added, holding up a dark curl that had been enclosed with the missive. “I would stake my reputation on this lock of hair having been cut from my young nephew’s head.”

  * * *

  She must have fainted. Why else was she lying prostrate on a couch in the morning room at the Hall with three male Forsters looking anxiously on and her brother crouched beside her holding her hand? Someone—Luci, she thought it was—wafted smelling salts beneath her nose. Their pungent aroma made her sneeze.

  Electra tried to sit up but the room spun and so she lay back down again. If she tried to move at that precise moment, she might disgrace herself by casting up her accounts. Constanza? She still couldn’t believe it. Maynard had said Gravina wasn’t finished with her. Perhaps this was his way of keeping her beneath his control—giving her hope where none existed.

  “Careful.” Lord Robert’s voice intruded upon her thoughts. “You’ve received astonishing news. Give yourself a moment to recover.”

  “They want me to believe Augusto’s alive,” she said in a weak voice. “Why are they being so cruel?”

  Rob poured a small measure of brandy and encouraged Electra to drink it. It burned its way down her throat but had the desired effect. This time when she attempted to sit up, the room remained where it was supposed to be.

  “Are you all right, m’lady?” Luci asked, her knees creaking as she bent to examine Electra’s face.

  “Yes, thank you, Luci. You may leave us.”

  Luci looked as though she wished to stay and hear more about Augusto. Perhaps Electra should allow it, but she already had four males trying to tell her what was best for her. She didn’t need her maid adding her voice to theirs.

  “You’ve obviously had a terrible shock, contessa,” Lord Denby said, examining her face closely. “Take a moment to compose yourself.”

  “A shock.” She felt like laughing hysterically. “Yes, absolutely. I don’t know how they achieved it, but that’s Constanza’s writing and,” she added, lifting the lock of hair to her face and rubbing it against her cheek, “I agree with Vincenzo. This is Augusto’s hair.” She shared a bemused glance with her audience. “He must be alive.”

  “Do you feel able to tell us about the circumstances of your husband’s death?” Lord Denby asked. “Perhaps that will help to make some sense of this.”

  Electra forced her mind back to the dreadful day when the bottom fell out of her world. “It was a little over a year ago. A year ago on the seventeenth of last month to be precise. I was in Palermo visiting with Vincenzo. There was family business to attend to, papers for me to sign following my parents’ death. These things sometimes take years to finalise in Italy.”

  “You didn’t take your son with you on this visit?” Lord Robert asked.

  Electra sighed. “Normally I would have done, but he had a head cold and my father-in-law decided it would be better for him not to leave home.”

  “He made those sorts of decisions on your behalf?” Lord Denby asked, looking surprised.

  Vincenzo scowled. “He governed every aspect of my sister’s life, and especially my nephew’s.”

  “That’s why I’m so surprised to receive a letter from Constanza.”

  “Are you absolutely sure it’s from her?” Lord Robert asked. “I don’t mean to distress you, but if she perished with your son then it’s impossible. Perhaps Gravina’s exploiting your grief in some cruel way? He must know that after the trick he played with your brother you won’t want to have anything further to do with him but he does seem to want you beholden to him.”

  “I’d know Constanza’s handwriting anywhere. She was selected as Augusto’s nurse by Gravina. She’s one of his extended family, some sort of distant relation. I never did know precisely where she fit into the family tree, but it had to be a relatively lowly position. She was well educated, totally loyal to the marchese, and dependent upon him for her livelihood. That made her a perfect candidate to care for my son and obey Gravina’s orders regarding his welfare rather than mine.”

  “Gravina thought Electra was too soft with her child and that Philippe wasn’t a suitable male upon which Augusto ought to model himself,” Vincenzo said acidly.

  “Constanza and I never saw eye to eye.” Electra wrinkled her brow, anguish twisting her insides into a painful knot. “That’s why I’m so surprised to hear from her. If Augusto is alive he must be in France and something must be terribly amiss for her to defy Gravina and contact me in this manner.”

  “She doesn’t say anything,” Lord Robert observed, looking at the letter. “But merely encloses a lock of hair and signed the letter with her initials.”

  “It’s enough. It probably took courage for her to go even that far. Courage and desperation. She knew I would recognise her writing just from the direction, you see. It’s so distinctive, the way she slopes her letters to the left and crosses her t’s in a particular manner. She once told me she was taught to write that way by the nuns who educated her.”

  “Go back to the accident that killed your husband, if you can bear to, contessa,” Lord Denby said. “How could your son and his nursemaid have survived?”

  “Presumably because they weren’t actually with Philippe.” Electra stared off into the distance, a combination of stress, relief and anxiety waging war with her insides. “Philippe drove his own curricle, somewhat recklessly, so I can easily imagine him miscalculating and going over a cliff. When I was told that Augusto was with his papa, I was so consumed with grief that I lost my senses for some considerable time. Vincenzo kept me with him until I recovered.”

  “I attended the funeral and saw both coffins lowered into the ground,” Vincenzo said, his hand on his sister’s shoulder.

  “By the time I felt a little better my feelings were too raw for anyone to refer to the accident in my hearing.”

  Lord Robert touched her hand and passed her his handkerchief. Electra hadn’t realised that tears were streaming down her face. She mopped them up and attempted to regain control of herself.

  “I see what you mean,” Lord Robert said. “You imagine your husband really did have an accident and your father-in-law saw it as an opportunity to separate you from your child permanently?”

  Electra tossed her head, shock and anxiety rapidly giving way to a slow, burning anger. “It’s the only logical explanation.”

  “I collect he’s a controlling individual,” Lord Gabriel said, contributing to the conversation for the first time. “But why would he go to such lengths?”

  “Because we argued constantly about the manner in which Augusto was to be raised,” Electra said. “The marchese didn’t like the way his only son had turned out and blamed his late wife for spoiling Philippe. He accused me of treating Augusto in a similar manner, predicting a comparable outcome.”

  “There’s a twisted sort of desperation behind his logic,” Lord Denby said.

  “He’s gone too far this time,” Electra fumed. “I put up with a lot from that monster, but this time...”

  “Calm yourself,” Lord Robert said, resting a hand on Electra’s shoulder when she became too choked with emotion to complete her sentence. “There’s a possibility that your son might be alive, which is all that matters.”

  “Gravina knew you wouldn’t stay beneath his roof,” Vincenzo said, “not when there was nothing to keep you there.”
<
br />   “I did wonder why he let me go without putting up too many arguments. He used me to...well, to—”

  “All men admired Electra’s beauty and wit,” Vincenzo said, grinding his jaw. “Gravina knew that and used it to his advantage when entertaining people he wished to impress.”

  “He’s dead,” Lord Robert said with quiet determination.

  “If Augusto is alive and Gravina has him,” Vincenzo said, “he won’t be keeping him in Italy. You’d have found out about it before now if he had. Some of his staff were dissatisfied with their treatment and preferred you to him. He knew that, which is why he couldn’t take that chance of anyone knowing about Augusto.”

  “You think he’s been in France this past year?” Lord Robert asked.

  “If Constanza’s there, then I would imagine so. I never thought I’d have reason to be grateful to the woman, but I’m glad that if Augusto is alive he’s had one person with him all the time whom he knows and trusts.” She sighed. “He must be so afraid and wonder where I am.”

  “It seems to me that Gravina is grooming your son as his heir,” Lord Denby said pensively. “Did he not marry and start a new family of his own?”

  “His new wife has given him three healthy daughters. Both the sons she bore him died in their infancy.”

  “He thinks he’s cursed when it comes to male heirs,” Vincenzo added, “which is why Augusto is so important to him. It would also explain why Maynard was so sure he could still manipulate us. I wondered about that. He needs me to continue manufacturing my herbal cures so he can profit from them, and he needs Electra to be useful to him in situations such as this one. He knows if Augusto’s alive we’ll both do whatever’s necessary to keep him safe.”

  The marquess nodded. “He and Pallister will make good bedfellows since they’re cut from the same cloth.”

  “I intend to come to France with you,” Electra said, standing to face Lord Robert, ready to counter any stupid arguments he might put up. “If there’s even an outside possibility that my son’s there, then I shall find him and bring him home with me, where he belongs.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Daylight hadn’t quite broken the following morning when The Celandine slipped like a ghost from her anchorage in the inlet behind the Boar’s Head. Hal’s crew went quietly and efficiently about their business, requiring no commands from Rob. As soon as the boat cleared the headland her sails filled with the stiff breeze blowing from the land, speeding her towards the French coast.

  Rob stood behind Electra on the poop deck, his arms wrapped tightly round her waist. She leaned back against him and breathed deeply of the fresh salty air. Worry lines creased her brow and Rob suspected that she’d barely slept.

  “Are you a good sailor, cara mia?”

  She tilted her head against his shoulder and smiled up at him. “I live on a small island. The sea’s in my blood. Sicilians learn from an early age to respect its power, and to rely on it for their livelihood.”

  “Yes, the same can be said for us British. Respect for the sea always shows, as does familiarity. You’re not the least bit nervous, at least not about the journey.”

  “No,” she said with a wistful sigh. “Not about that.”

  Rob glanced at the smooth surface of the sea, only slightly disturbed by the land breeze. “It looks as though we’re in for a calm crossing today.”

  “How long will it take to reach Calais?”

  “If this wind persists, probably not more than four hours. We can go below and enjoy some breakfast now, if you’d like.”

  “Not yet. I prefer to feel the wind on my face.” She smiled at him. “I adore the smell of the sea.”

  “Very well. I’m happy to remain here and make intimate advances towards The Celandine’s newest cabin boy, no matter what the crew makes of my behaviour.”

  Electra looked down at the lad’s clothing she was wearing and laughed. There had been some discussion about suitable attire when Rob accepted that he couldn’t prevent her from accompanying him. Now they were aware her son might be alive and in need of her, it would be heartless to make her remain in England. How Electra would react if it proved to be some sort of elaborate hoax he didn’t care to conjecture. Since receiving Constanza’s communication, something had changed inside her. It was as though a fire had been reignited in her eyes, a permanent sadness removed from her psyche and she had come fully alive.

  Rob clenched his jaw and held her a little tighter. If the child lived, then he would be restored to his mother’s care or Rob would die in the attempt. In order to achieve that ambition Electra’s presence was essential, despite the inherent dangers. He didn’t know how much resistance he would meet but it was entirely possible that he’d have to persuade a frightened child to go with him, a complete stranger. If there was insufficient time to gain his trust, Electra’s assistance would be invaluable.

  Even so, his sixth sense told him this mission would be fraught with perils and he didn’t intend to allow Electra out of his sight. Wherever he went, so too would she. She needed to move quickly and quietly, without fussy feminine attire to hinder her progress. Male clothing had been found for her and here they were.

  “You make a fine boy, Electra,” Rob said, lowering his head so he could breathe the words in her ear, “but I much prefer you as a woman.”

  She shivered but said nothing. The boat had now lost sight of land and the protection it gave them against the stiff breeze.

  “Come, refreshment has been left for us in Hal’s cabin.” He led her below but Electra merely pushed the food round her plate, still distracted, barely speaking and not taking a bite.

  “You must eat,” Rob insisted. “You won’t be any good to me if you’re too weak to function.”

  “You’re right.” She took a bite of bread and cheese, but Rob could see that she had trouble swallowing it. “I just wish I knew what to expect. If Augusto isn’t there...” She choked on a sob. “If this is all some sort of cruel misunderstanding, I don’t think I’ll be able to bear the disappointment.”

  “Shush.” Rob pulled her into his arms. “I think there’s a real possibility that he’s alive, and you do, too.”

  “Yes, I do.” His certainty appeared to calm her. She squared her shoulders and fixed him with a determined gaze. “And I won’t abandon my child when he needs me so badly. Not for a second time.”

  “You didn’t abandon him before. You were told he was dead and had no reason to doubt it, especially when your brother attended his funeral.”

  “Yes, but even so, I ought to have sensed something wasn’t right.”

  Rob traced the curve of her face with his fingers. “Your brother tells me you were incoherent for a long time. You are not responsible for Gravina’s treachery, Electra.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “For what?”

  “For having faith in me.”

  “You make that easy, simply by being you.” Rob released her and returned his attention to the food. When they’d both eaten as much as they could manage, he took her hand and led her to the bunk. “We ought to try and sleep. I suspect neither of us got much rest last night.”

  “It was very kind of Potter to place Vincenzo in the chamber adjoining mine,” she said with a flash of her old spirit.

  Rob growled at her. “I desperately wanted to comfort you after everything you’d been through, but with Vincenzo next door—”

  “I was perfectly all right.”

  She was lying but it wasn’t too late to put that situation right. His faith in her had been vindicated and the air of anticipation that had hovered between them since their first meeting was long overdue for exorcism. They were in Hal’s cabin with a comfortable bunk at their disposal and Electra needed a distraction—something to take her mind off the possibility of finding her s
on. Rob suppressed a wicked smile. He had a few ideas about how to go about that, if she would permit it.

  * * *

  Deep in thought, Electra glanced up at Lord Robert and gasped. A moment ago he’d been fully clothed. Now he was wearing just his breeches and his shirt was open at the neck. She instinctively stood and faced him, a few feet of daylight separating them.

  “What are you doing?”

  Electra asked the question, even though she knew perfectly well what was on his mind. The naked longing in his expression told her their time had come, just as she’d known deep down that it eventually would. She had thought that nothing could dislodge her concern for Augusto but just the sight of Lord Robert, semi-clothed and clearly aroused, made her think again. She wanted him desperately, needed the comfort that she instinctively knew only he could provide.

  “We need to rest,” he said softly.

  “Yes.”

  But she didn’t move, feasting her eyes on his body instead. His physique earned her admiration but his beauty actually took her breath away. Lean, hard and unquestionably male, the vision drugged her mind and she couldn’t stop staring at him. His lips quirked as he watched her watching him, as though he could read her mind—arrogant man!

  He’d rejected her advances when they were at Lord Billingham’s but now that his doubts about her loyalties had been eradicated, he seemed anxious to rectify that. Her pride had been hurt and she wanted to tell him to go to the devil. She wouldn’t, of course. Having made up her mind to break her celibacy, he was the only man in England she would choose as a partner. She would enjoy his company and as much of himself as he chose to offer her.

  And his timing was impeccable.

  He reached and ran his fingers down her arm with a featherlight touch that made her skin feel as though it was on fire. Electra trembled with desire when she observed the stark longing in his expression. She took a step towards him, compelled by something stronger than her own will.