She’d been completely and irrevocably intrigued.
With no one still in sight, she released the clasp of her locket and tipped the diamond earring within it into her palm. The gold ear hook glittered, the jewel adorning it catching the candlelight from the overhead lantern and sprinkling prisms of gold and white over the wall.
Memories surged from that night long ago when she’d first seen this earring dangling from his ear.
In the ballroom of Frederick House, Anteros had caught her gloved hand and kissed her fingertips, his blue gaze searing into hers, his words a soft murmur as he’d greeted her, “Un bellissimo angelo. You look radiant tonight.”
“Captain.” A soft sigh had escaped her lips before she’d promptly tugged her hand back. “My papa once warned me that when a man lavishes such words of praise on a lady, that she should take immense care around him. You seem to be a dangerous puzzle I can’t quite work out.”
“Your papa was clearly a wise man.” His lips had tugged up into a sinful grin. “Might I add my own words of warning to his?”
“Go right ahead.”
“When a man collects enemies at every turn, just as I have a habit of unfortunately doing, you should steer clear of that man. Immense care must be taken.”
“I, ah—” She hadn’t known where to look in that moment, his brutal honesty enlightening. “Your warning has been duly noted.” Not that she’d paid any attention to that warning over the next year and a half to come.
“Good evening, Lady Olivia.” A masked gentleman had whisked across the ballroom and picked up her dance card. He’d swiftly signed his name alongside the next two dances. Baron Herbarth. Only he had ever attempted to commandeer her dance card at every ball she attended.
“Lord Herbarth, how did you know it was me?” Her voice had been pitched a little too high, her mask clearly not hiding her identity as it should have. “Goodness, reserving two dances with a lady on one night will cause a stir and my mama will end up having words with me. I’m certain we’ve spoken of this before.”
“Yes, we have, but hopefully your mama will speak only wonderful words.” The baron had chuckled as he’d eyed her, while Anteros had growled under his breath at the interruption. “Surely, Lady Olivia, you can’t fault me for wishing to dance with such a delightful companion. I’m certain you’ll be inundated with gentlemen and I didn’t wish to miss out.”
Another low growl from the captain, his sapphire eyes hardening to a deeply black hue.
“You collect enemies, remember?” She’d pressed a hand to Anteros’s arm to calm him, then faced Herbarth. “Lord Herbarth, I believe you are right, and I shall concede to two dances.”
She’d left Anteros behind and indeed danced with the baron that night, all while knowing how deviously she’d been tugging on the tail of the cobra, the first time of many times to come.
Carefully, she slotted Anteros’s diamond away and closed her locket.
She continued on down the passageway and when she reached the dark elegance of the dining room, she stepped through the wide double doorway and searched for Wills. Highly polished tables graced the main area with gentlemen seated in their silk waistcoats and tailed coats enjoying a meal. Four ladies in richly-colored gowns and lacy shawls sat amongst the fifty or so men, respectable ladies from within the ton. Adrestia had told her that the gentlemen were far less reckless when their wives joined them in the main saloon, and the ladies also enjoyed the exciting atmosphere.
Once, when she’d left Lucy in the foyer before making her way to the dining room, she’d even spotted Lady Wentfall and her widowed sister playing at the whist tables, two ladies who’d in the past been lamenting the downfall of the gaming clubs and who now saw the enjoyment that could be had instead.
Wait staff moved about the tables—gas lamps radiating warmth from the wall sconces and corner stands—while the hearty aroma of exquisite food wafted through the air. The dinner menu here now surpassed that which could be found anywhere else in town, the menu consisting of venison pie, honey-roasted partridge, baked salmon, pigeons in white sauce, and smoked trout, along with seasoned potatoes and roasted vegetables. The chef and his culinary team made the most delicious cakes, pastries, treats, and other masterful delicacies too.
One time the chef had even presented her and Adrestia with a baked custard dish, the creamy custard cooled and sitting between layers of sweet flaky pastry, the dish topped with thickened cream and a spill of fresh raspberries. Her mouth watered just at the memory of it.
“G’day, my lady.” Wills suddenly appeared, skipped in a circle around her before coming back in front and offering her a tip of his cap. His mop of brown hair slid forward as he did, the length hiding his eyes until he pushed the strands back. A streak of dirt smeared one cheek and his nose, while a bit of greenery stuck out from behind his ear. In tan breeches and suspenders, his dark brown woolen jacket slightly too large for his thin frame, he beamed. “The cap’n isn’t back yet, but Miss Adrestia is at home. She sailed into port this evenin’.”
“Mr. Hodges has sent word to her that I’m here.” She plucked the greenery from behind his ear and dropped it into his hand. “How have you been this week?”
“I’m gettin’ a tutor, or so Miss Adrestia says.” The boy bounced around her, grinning and beaming as he waved the greenery like a flag. “She says I need to learn my letters and to speak all proper like she do—does—nay, do. Ugh.” He wrinkled his nose, hands slapping his sides. “Which word is the right one?”
“Does is correct.” She tapped the tip of his nose. “It’ll be wonderful for you to have a tutor. It’s important to gain an education. It’ll afford you more opportunities in the future with regard to employment.”
“As long as the tutor teaches me how to read sailin’ charts along with my letters, then I can help the cap’n and mayhap learn how to sail my own ship one day, just like ’im.”
“Him.”
“That’s what I said.” He scrunched one side of his face as if thinking through his answer. “Oh, him.”
“That’s better.” She giggled. “You are a delight, Wills.”
“The cap’n calls me his mascalzone.” Wonder filled his eyes. “I’m not sure what that means, ’cept he says it with a wink, so ’tis likely good.”
“It means rascal.” Adrestia breezed in wearing a white ruffled blouse and azure blue skirts, a white and blue braided belt at her waist and the tasseled ends sweeping down to her knees. With her midnight-black hair swishing in long glossy curls down her back, she straightened one of Wills’ suspenders and said to the boy, “Ask one of the waiters to bring me and Lady Olivia a pot of tea and two custard pastries. I’ve been dreaming of them while I’ve been at sea.”
“Right away.” The boy skipped off toward the waiter across the far side of the dining room.
Adrestia swept up and squeezed her tight. “My sweet friend, I’ve missed you terribly.”
“I’ve missed you too. Welcome home.” She squeezed Adrestia back. “You must tell me all about your trip.”
“I visited Lisbon and left supplies there, then stopped off and saw friends here and there on my return.”
“What is Lisbon like?” The seaside city sat at the very southern tip of Portugal. Her brother, Harry, had spent time there during the war. He and his fellow soldiers from the 18th Royal Hussars had been based at St. Vincent’s Fort, the English soldiers aiding the Portuguese people in protecting the city of Lisbon from Napoleon’s advancement.
“The port is filled with rowdy sailors and taverns galore.” Adrestia drew her toward the quietest corner and they sat at a table partially hidden from view by a hand-painted oriental screen.
“You must share more than that, particularly since I live vicariously through you. Which is your favorite country to visit?”
“Hmm.” A tap of her chin, a sparkle in her eyes. “I adore the beauty of the Maghreb Coastline where the Arabian influence is strong. Then there are the whitewashed buildings
and vast desert sands of Algiers—so stunning. But so too are the Sicilian temples which are a treasure to roam. Naples is infused with its own beauty and charm and I always spend time there when passing through.” The sparkle in her eyes brightened. “The people of Naples now call me sorella del cobra, sister of the cobra. I adore that they do.”
“Your brother has quite the reputation on the high seas, doesn’t he?”
“He isn’t known as the cobra for no reason. No one wishes to have him on their tail.” Adrestia leaned across and caught her hand. “You’ve never been scared of him though. He calls you his angelo.”
“He has never given me any reason to fear him.”
“He never will either. You are precious to him, the same as you are precious to me. Whenever he returns home, I barely get a hug from him before he’s in the saddle and riding across town to see you.”
“I’m sure you overexaggerate.” Although her heart skipped a beat at Adrestia’s remark.
“Ladies.” The waiter arrived and set a tray on the table between them, one which held a platter covered in a silver dome—the chef’s infamous custard pastries underneath. The uniformed man poured tea into two fine china cups then bowed and whisked away.
“Allow me to finish serving.” Adrestia added a splash of milk to each of their cups along with two teaspoons of sugar, then nudged her cup toward her. “Now that you know what I’ve been up to, what about you?”
“I haven’t been visiting faraway realms as you have, I’m afraid, but I have recently traveled to Hillhurst Hall near the Scottish Borders. Winterly recently spoke vows with Lady Rosamonde Raven, the Earl of Hillhurst’s daughter. They’re currently enjoying an extended honeymoon at Winterly Manor in the country.”
“How wonderful. Your mama must be thrilled for Winterly.” Adrestia clapped, the silver star-charms on her bangle tinkling at her wrist. “Speaking of your mama. How is she?”
“With all the weddings recently in our family, she’s now hoping to secure a husband for me.” She rearranged her emerald skirts to cover her crossed ankles, then sipped her tea. “Mama will be eager to see you now that you’re home again though. Come and visit us tomorrow, then we can both hear all about your time away.”
“I certainly shall. Let’s take a look at these pastries.” Adrestia lifted the dome from the tray and they both released a pleasurable sigh at the sweet decadence plated before them.
“Oh my, I’m drooling already.” She snuck one of the plates and with her fork and spoon in hand, scooped a bite of the custard delicacy and smacked her lips together. Mmm, the custard and cream was so smooth, the raspberries sweet and syrupy, and the pastry holding it all together, beautifully light and flaky.
“This is pure heaven.” Adrestia ate a mouthful, blew a kiss toward the kitchens. “Delizioso. I shall personally thank the chef later.”
“I wish I could steal your chef away from you.” Her next forkful wobbled precariously before she clamped her lips around it.
“Ha, I’d like to see you try.” Adrestia giggled as she made a slashing motion with her fork, just like a warrior would with a sword. “Anteros and I would slay you before you reached the door with your stolen goods.”
“Do excuse me ladies. I hope I’m not interrupting your conversation.” Lord Herbarth stepped up to them, his gold silk waistcoat fastened over a ruffled white shirt, his cravat knotted at his neck and his gaze on her. “Lady Olivia, Miss Adrestia Bourbon, it is a pleasure to see you both.”
“Lord Herbarth.” She offered him a smile, as did Adrestia. “What a surprise to see you here.”
“Word is that you visit a young lad named Wills each week at around this time, right here in these public dining rooms.” He twirled the ends of his long moustache, looking gleefully proud that he’d procured that information. “I wished to ask if you’d like to join me for an evening at one of the playhouses.”
“Oh, that is so kind of you.”
“Does Friday evening suit?” A hopeful arch of his brow.
“My lord, I, ah—”
“Lady Olivia and I are attending a soiree at Bardington Manor on Friday,” Adrestia cut in without batting an eyelash. “You haven’t forgotten, have you, Sorella?” Her friend squeezed her hand. “We were going to attend together.”
“No, I haven’t forgotten at all.” She offered Herbarth her most apologetic smile, ever so grateful of Adrestia’s swift save. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Herbarth, because she sincerely did, but only as a friend. Unfortunately, tongues currently wagged about them and since she didn’t wish to get caught any further in the crossfire, she’d been trying to maintain a little more distance from him. Three proposals of marriage he’d offered her thus far, and she sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be a fourth. “Perhaps we might see you there, my lord?”
“You certainly shall.” A wide smile as he caught her hand in farewell and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
Chapter 3
Training his telescope on the horizon, Anteros grunted. Directly ahead a ship crested the waves with the House of Bourbon’s colors flying from its mizzenmast. He handed his brass tube to Giovani and resumed his position at the wheel. “It is my father, and he is approaching at full speed.”
“It’s as Shira said.” Giovani held the scope to his eye. “I’d been holding onto the hope she might’ve be wrong.”
“At least I have been forewarned of this moment.”
“Captain, ship on our bowsprit.” A call from one of his crew on the foredeck. “What’s your command?”
“Trim the sails. Draw in alongside the vessel,” he ordered then handed the wheel over to Giovani before bounding downstairs to the foredeck. Men clambered up the rigging as he strode to the bow. With his white tunic open at his neck and a black silk sash knotted at his waist, he gripped the hilt of his belted saber, lifted one booted foot and rested it on a crate as Father’s warship slowed and came in alongside him.
Father eyed him from the railing, his gold embroidered black jacket buttoned and neck cloth visible underneath the raised collar, his saber at his hip. His crew and Father’s crew melted away and once they had, Father cocked a brow. “Son.”
“Father. I hear you wish to speak to me.”
“Shira?” Father asked.
“Sì.” He waited, saying no more, just the squawk of a circling seagull riding the warm air currents above breaking the silence.
“I wish to converse with you in private. May I board?”
“As you wish.” He motioned for Giovani to set the plank in place and Father bounded up and crossed the wooden beam. A thump onto his deck, then he led Father to his quarters. Once inside his private domain, he closed the door and gestured for his parent to sit in the chair angled toward his desk. His sire took his seat, while he strode to the side table and poured brandy from a decanter into two glasses. He handed one glass to Father, took his own desk chair and moved charts and maps out of the way before setting his glass down. Kicking his booted feet up onto one corner of his desk, he leaned back in his chair. “How is Mother?”
“She is in Vienna visiting her sisters. She will return to Sicily soon. We are holding a ball for Maria Cristina at the Royal Palace in Palermo. Five weeks’ time. Maria Cristina hopes you’ll be there, Adrestia too.” Father swirled the amber liquor in his fine crystal glass and drank. “Obviously though, I’m not here to chat about balls and such.”
“I didn’t imagine so.” Hands resting over his middle, he rocked in his chair, boot heels scraping the polished surface of his desk.
Father leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees, silver streaks flaring at both sides of his dark-haired head. “It’s time for you to do your duty, Anteros.”
“I have never ceased doing my duty. Have you not noticed how many French warships I’ve dispatched from these waters for you recently?” Yes, he dispatched them for the English and the Portuguese people too, but his main drive was to dispatch them for Sicily. His homeland had to remain under Bourbon rule. Fat
her certainly couldn’t lose Sicily the way he’d recently lost the throne of Naples to Napoleon.
“I’m not speaking of that duty, which you do exceedingly well by the way,” Father stated with a firm nod. “I’m speaking of continuing the Bourbon dynasty. It’s time for you to take a wife.”
“Father, please. I will never take a wife and expose her to the dangers that surround me.”
“I’m aware you’ve no desire to enter into matrimony, but you, like your mother and I, have responsibilities. It’s time for you to provide me with grandsons.”
“Francesco has already wed and sired an heir for you. He is your eldest. Only his sons matter.”
“You are wrong, very wrong. Only seven of my eighteen children have survived to adulthood, and as I’ve seen time and time again, death can come for an heir and there is naught that can be done about it, other than to have sired more sons. That’s what I’ve done, and that is what you must now do too. Who will inherit Paradiso Island otherwise?” His father rose and strode to his side table and poured more brandy, swirled and gulped the liquor down. “Your mother and I have already secured a wife for you.”
“Pardon?” A jerk, his feet falling to the floor.
“You heard me.”
He gritted his teeth. Why hadn’t Shira warned him that his father would demand he marry? “Ask Leopoldo to marry her,” he muttered.
“I’m asking you, Anteros, not Leopoldo.” Father’s nostrils flared. “I know you wish to rid Naples of Napoleon’s hold on it, the same as your mother and I do. You actively aid me by sinking French warships and you fight right alongside the English, ensuring our ties with the English king remain strong. You have our country’s best interests at heart and have for years, while Leopoldo still has so much to learn. He isn’t yet ready to wed, while you are.”
The Prince's Bride Page 3
