Finessing the Contessa

by Wendy Soliman

  Rob didn’t feel comfortable leaving her behind and tried again to persuade her. “Then your master will know you betrayed him.”

  “Tie me to a chair, and he’ll never suspect me.” She shrugged. “I’m all but invisible to him. Besides, he trusts me and thinks I’m completely loyal.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Constanza sniffed. “He becomes more debauched by the day but will never harm me. That woman he has with him now, an Englishwoman, is the last straw.” She elevated her chin. “She’s contemptible, talking to us servants like we’re something she scraped off the bottom of her shoe.”

  Rob couldn’t agree more with Constanza’s assessment, but there was no time to compare grievances. “What about the servants? I saw four in the kitchen a while ago and I believe there were a couple of guards there as well. Are there any more?”

  “No. Four servants to run an establishment this size, and two of the laziest guards on God’s earth.” She rolled her eyes. “My cousin’s a miser. No wonder the place is falling into ruin.”

  “Presumably he isn’t here that often and so doesn’t care.”

  “He comes to see the boy frequently and doesn’t seem to mind that things aren’t up to his usual standard since no one of consequence visits him here.” Constanza crouched down to Augusto’s level. “Would you like an adventure?”

  Augusto’s huge eyes widened. “What sort of adventure?”

  “Can you be very brave and go with this gentleman without making a sound? It’s a game, you see.”

  Augusto nodded vigorously. “I can be brave. Mama said so.”

  Rob and Constanza exchanged a glance. The pathos in the boy’s tone would soften the hardest heart.

  “Quick,” Constanza said. She ripped a sheet apart and handed the strips to Rob. “You know what you have to do.”

  Augusto’s eyes widened even further when Constanza sat on a chair and Rob bound her to it.

  “It’s part of the game, ma puce,” Constanza said reassuringly.

  “I hope that isn’t too tight,” Rob said.

  “Not at all. Best gag me as well.”

  “Thank you, Constanza,” Rob said. “I’ll ensure Lady Falzone understands what you did for her son’s sake.”

  “I think only of the child. Come, here little one.”

  Augusto approached her and she asked Rob to release her hands for a moment. Once they were free she pulled him onto her lap, ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head.

  “Be a good boy, tesoro,” she said.

  “But I will see you when the game’s over, Constanza?”

  Augusto’s lower lip wobbled and Rob understood why. He’d already lost his mother and father. Constanza was the only other permanent presence in his young life and he wasn’t ready to let her go too.

  “Of course you will.” Rob could see that Constanza was close to tears as well. “Go now, and don’t forget, not a sound.”

  Rob retied Constanza’s hands, gagged her and scooped Augusto into his arms, making sure he didn’t see that Constanza now had her mouth covered as well.

  “Come along,” he said in Italian. “Off we go.”

  The boy clung to Rob’s neck in much the way Electra had described him clinging to her like a monkey. He was wary but didn’t voice any protests. Rob took the stairs as silently as possible, doing his best to avoid the centre of the steps where the boards creaked the loudest. He expected to be challenged at any moment but reached the next floor down with no one intercepting them.

  Relieved, he relaxed his guard for moment as he stepped briskly along the corridor, only to stop dead when he heard a sound coming from one of the rooms. Gravina’s library. Someone was in there. He glanced frantically about, looking for a hiding place. Before he could find one, the library door opened and a large individual strode out, tucking papers inside his coat. The man stopped dead when he saw Rob with Augusto in his arms, and reached for a weapon.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rob barely had time to react before the man came at him with a dagger raised.

  “Drop the child,” he said in Italian.

  “Augusto, hide behind that clock. Quick, it’s part of the game!”

  Rob put the child down and pushed him in the direction of the long clock that occupied the centre of the passageway. There was just room for a small child to crawl behind it, out of harm’s way. Rob could only pray he’d go that way and not run back to Constanza. Augusto hesitated for what seemed like an eternity, but thankfully made no sound to alert the other servants. The man with the dagger was less inclined to remain quiet and yelled as he launched himself at Rob with murder in his eyes.

  Finally Augusto ran behind the clock and Rob was free to deal with the man. He dodged the vicious swipe of his knife and managed to grab his wrist. The man was stronger than he appeared and fought back, aiming a blow with his free hand to Rob’s chin. Rob’s head snapped back and pain ricocheted though his jaw. He ignored it. Their bodies were now locked together and if the man managed to free his knife hand from Rob’s grasp, there would be no escape.

  They were making the devil of a racket. It could only be a matter of moments before the other servants came to investigate. The thought caused renewed determination to surge through Rob. Forgetting all about fighting fair, he brought his knee up hard into his opponent’s groin. The man howled and the dagger slipped from his hand.

  Both men dived for it but Rob’s fingers closed round the hilt first. His opponent stamped on Rob’s hand but he withstood the pain and held onto the weapon. Without hesitation he plunged it into his foe’s thigh, leaving him screeching with pain. Blood seeped through the man’s fingers as he removed the dagger and clutched a wound that was deep but not fatal.

  Rob didn’t waste another second. Footsteps sounded on the lower floor, voices called out. Rob pulled Augusto from his hiding place and ran. He regained the dining room a second before the other servants ran up the stairs to see what the noise was all about. With no reason to worry about the squeaky hinges, he threw the doors open and ran into the grounds with Augusto clinging to him. He heard footsteps behind him, voices calling to him in French to stop. Thankfully he was younger and faster than any of his pursuers.

  Euphoria swept through him as he neared the spot where he’d left Electra and Wright. He imagined how she would feel when she caught sight of Augusto, and his heart soared at the thought of reuniting them. He didn’t slow until he reached the fence and saw the strangest sight. Electra’s head was hanging over the top of the tall fence. She could only be there if Wright was holding her up. She cried out when she saw Augusto and tried to climb over the fence to join them.

  “Who’s that?” Rob asked, smiling to Augusto as he pointed.

  Electra was laughing and crying and blowing kisses to Augusto.

  The boy’s eyes widened. “Mama,” he said with a combination of doubt and incredulity.

  “Yes, it’s your mama.” Rob passed the child directly into his mother’s waiting arms. Both of them were crying but Electra lifted her face from the child’s neck and smiled her gratitude.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “My pleasure.” Rob scrambled back over the fence. “Quick! I was seen. We need to get away.”

  “But Constanza—”

  “Is staying. I’ll explain later.”

  “We can’t go without her.”

  “It’s her choice.” Rob grasped her arm and directed her towards the horses. “There’s no time to lose. Come, let’s put distance between us and this place.”

  “Can I ride a horse, Mama?”

  “Of course you can, darling. Would you like to ride with this gentleman?” she asked.

  “Yes, but you won’t tie me up like you did Constanza? I shouldn’t like that.”

>   “I’ll explain later,” Rob said in response to Electra’s puzzled frown. “That was just part of the game,” he added to Augusto. “Constanza told you that herself.”

  He frowned. “Yes, but who will untie her?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s all arranged.” Rob mounted and Electra handed Augusto up to him. He sat the boy in front of him, his short legs barely reaching across the saddle. With the resilience of youth, Augusto appeared to put the puzzling matter of Constanza from his mind and turned his attention to the unplanned expedition on horseback.

  Wright helped Electra to mount and then led the way out of the wooded area, Peacock bringing up the rear.

  Whenever the path was wide enough to permit it, Electra rode beside Rob, constantly reaching out to touch her son, as though she couldn’t quite believe her eyes. Her smile was bright enough to put the sun to shame, which gladdened Rob’s heart. He was pleased that Gravina wasn’t about. The temptation to put a bullet through his head after all the suffering he’d caused Electra and this delightful child would be compelling. Still, it probably wasn’t good form to kill an Italian marchese on French soil, even if he did bring it upon himself.

  Rob urged Wright to move faster. Gravina was probably aboard that packet by now, and there was nothing to fear from him. Even so, Rob couldn’t shake the premonition that seeped through his bones. It had all been too easy and he remained alert, constantly scanning the area for any signs of trouble, any traps they’d failed to take into account in their haste to get here.

  They emerged from the trees at the end of the path and now had just the open road between them and Calais before they reached the safety of The Celandine.

  Unfortunately a carriage blocked their path. Augusto looked at it and whimpered in terror. Rob felt like doing the same thing when he saw Gravina standing beside it, legs apart, glowering at them.

  “Welcome home, Electra,” he said caustically. “How was the chess game?”

  * * *

  “No!” Electra clapped a hand over her mouth. “To have come so far, only to—”

  “Don’t worry.” Rob sounded totally unperturbed, which calmed her a little. “We outnumber his party and came prepared for trouble.”

  That at least was true. Gravina had just Maynard, the oaf who had been in England with him and the carriage driver who looked to be beyond fighting age. Rob had Wright and Peacock and the two men who had been stationed in the woods. They appeared on the other side of the carriage, armed to the teeth. That was good, and it also wasn’t. If a bullet should go astray and hit Augusto—Electra gulped at the thought. To have gone through so much, only to lose her beloved child in such a way, would be the end of her. She simply wasn’t prepared to take the risk. There had to be another way.

  Electra lifted her chin and addressed her father-in-law. “You had no right to take Augusto from me, you ogre. I’m his mother and you can’t keep him from me.”

  “Are you absolutely sure about that?” Gravina was infuriatingly smug. “I assume you’re Forster,” he added, addressing Rob, “and this doxy has turned your head. She’s very good at turning men’s heads, intentionally or otherwise.”

  Before Rob could respond, a woman emerged from the carriage and cast a scathing glance at Electra in her boy’s attire. “Is this the raving beauty you told me so much about, Gravina?” she asked. “I thought Italian men had better taste.”

  Everyone ignored her.

  “Well, Lord Robert, shall we settle this matter like gentlemen?”

  “By all means.”

  “Don’t, Rob!” Electra cried.

  Rob offered her a disarming smile. “It will be all right,” he said.

  Wright dismounted and took Augusto from Rob so he too could dismount. Electra jumped to the ground unaided and wrapped her child protectively in her arms.

  “Are they going to fight, Mama?” he asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

  Electra wanted to scream with frustration. Why did men always do this? What drove them to fight one another like savages? Per amor del cielo, they actually seemed to enjoy inflicting physical injury on one another. She simply didn’t understand what misguided sense of honour directed their conduct.

  “Your choice of weapons, Gravina. We fight until one of us surrenders, or to the death. Whoever wins has custody of the child. None of our supporters are to interfere, provided neither of us breaks the rules.”

  Gravina nodded. “Seems reasonable.”

  “Then give me your word and your hand on the terms.” Rob offered his hand and Gravina took it in a firm grasp.

  Electra watched in growing despair, her arms tightly wrapped around Augusto, who appeared to be taking an avid interest in the proceedings. How could this be happening? Panic gripped her. Gravina would choose to fight with swords. He was the Sicilian champion and even at his age had never been bested. Electra would have to return to Sicily and live beneath Gravina’s roof again. He’d never let her take Augusto away with her and she refused to be parted from him ever again. She would have to watch her son’s mind being poisoned by this ambitious megalomaniac because she had no redress in law, even as the child’s mother. The Sicilian courts would side with Gravina. Worse still, her beloved Rob—the love of her life—would be killed.

  And it was all her fault.

  Gravina snapped his fingers and Maynard delved into the trunk of the carriage, emerging with Gravina’s prized duelling swords. He offered Rob first choice. He weighed each weapon in his hands and decided upon one, tossing the other towards Gravina, who caught the hilt one-handed. He then removed his coat and neckcloth.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Gravina.”

  They moved to a clearing between the trees and the men formed a rough circle round them, ready to observe the sport. Electra didn’t wish to see any of it but couldn’t seem to look away. Worse yet, the woman from the carriage came to stand beside her.

  “I’ve waited a long time to see one of the Forsters meet his match,” she said with malicious spite.

  * * *

  Rob emptied his mind and concentrated on the battle—both physical and mental. Whether Gravina knew it or not, that’s precisely what it was. When it came to swordplay the mind acted as big a part as physical prowess. Gravina wanted control of his grandson but Rob had far greater motivation to win this duel. She stood just a few feet away, clutching her child close, looking terrified on his behalf. He longed to reassure her but couldn’t afford to lose concentration, not even for the moment it would have taken.

  As he divested himself of his coat, Rob studied his opponent. The marchese was in his middle years but seemed physically fit. Rob knew, just by the manner in which he handled his excellently tooled, nicely balanced weapon with its razor-sharp blade that he was proficient with the sword. Besides, if swords weren’t his passion, why would he carry them with him wherever he went?

  Prepared, the two men inclined their heads towards one another and took their guard. They engaged in battle with a clash of blades and determination of will. Gravina was a good swordsman, it didn’t take Rob more than the first parry to realise that much. But Rob was at least twenty years younger, and no slouch himself at this particular discipline.

  Neither man made the mistake of underestimating the other. They fought cautiously, not giving their opponent the opportunity to score easy hits.

  “You fight well, my lord. For an Englishman,” Gravina said, clearly trying to provoke Rob.

  “I have my moments,” Rob replied indolently, tearing the sleeve of Gravina’s shirt and drawing blood.

  “I’ll give you that one,” Gravina said. “But nothing more.”

  “I’m glad you don’t plan to make it too easy for me.”

  Gravina laughed as he agilely avoided Rob’s next attack. “Where would be the sport in that?”

  They lunged and p
arried, dancing round one another with little to separate them, other than the fierce love and determination Rob felt to keep Electra and Augusto safe. Rob stepped back to avoid a parry he hadn’t seen coming until it was almost too late. He stumbled as his heel struck a loose patch of earth, lost his footing and finished up on his knees with no means of escaping Gravina’s blade.

  So this is it.

  Grinning, Gravina moved in, drew his sword arm back and aimed for the centre of Rob’s chest. Rob moved his torso at the last moment and Gravina’s blade hit his right side. Blood spurted from the wound and Rob was vaguely conscious of Electra crying out. He blocked out the sound, unable to afford the luxury of losing concentration. He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the pain and considerable effort it took him, and laughed in Gravina’s face.

  “That makes one hit each.”

  They battled furiously after that, no longer testing one another. The cut on his side was deep, and bleeding copiously, filling his boot with blood. If he didn’t finish this soon, it would be too late for him. Gravina appeared to think so as well, which was his first mistake. Rob took advantage of his overconfidence and lowered his sword, as though too weak to continue, then sank to his knees. Grinning, Gravina raised his weapon again, just as Rob had known he would. Had the situation been reversed, Rob would have offered Gravina the opportunity to surrender, but he’d gambled on Gravina being no gentleman. He clearly wished to impress Rob’s stepmother, whom he could hear baying for more of Rob’s blood.

  Well, she’d get blood right enough, but hopefully no more of his.

  Rob timed his moves to perfection. When Gravina’s sword was within a hair’s breadth of his chest, Rob swung his own weapon with all his remaining strength, sending Gravina’s blade flying out of his opponent’s hand. With Gravina gaping in disbelief, Rob sprang to his feet with an agility that defied his supposed weakened state, his sword pointing directly at Gravina’s heart.

  “I will accept your surrender, sir,” he said, his tone silk on steel.

  * * *

  Cynthia felt her triumphant smile fade when Rob regained the upper hand. Damn it, she’d been so sure that Gravina had him, but Rob had gulled him into exposing himself. Perdition, Gravina simply couldn’t surrender! Not to a Forster. Why didn’t he fight on? Rob was weakening. If Gravina kept him moving for just a minute or two longer, he’d likely bleed to death.