“You look exceptionally lovely this afternoon.”
She didn’t need to look at him to know Val was wearing his most charming smile. “Did you mean it?”
“Indeed I did. I did say exceptionally after all. I never use exceptionally unless it’s warranted.”
“No.” She blew a long breath and turned toward him. “I meant what you said about our being friends.”
“Absolutely.” Sincerity shone in his eyes.
“Then why are you being so incredibly flirtatious?”
He gasped. “I am not.”
“You most certainly are.” She shook her head. “You have never flirted like this with me before.”
“On the contrary, I have flirted with you every time we’ve met.”
“This is different.”
“I might be putting more effort into it now.”
“Why?”
“Come now, Willie. It’s obvious. As you were married, there was nothing that could come of flirtation then.”
She studied him closely. “I don’t believe that has stopped you with other women.”
“I tell you, Willie, there are times when my reputation is a curse.” He paused. “Although I am proud of it.”
“Good Lord, Val.”
“Very well.” His expression sobered. “It was my observation that underneath that devil-may-care attitude, you are an honorable woman and not at all the type to betray her marriage vows.” He chose his words with care. “I admire that—I always have. Some men do not deserve that kind of loyalty.”
He was talking about George now.
“But now.” He grinned in a wicked manner. “You are a widow.”
“And you are still incorrigible.”
“Thank you,” he said, feigning a modest smile. “I was serious about calling on you.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” His eyes narrowed. “Is there someone else?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure about that either.”
He considered her closely. “It’s Montague, isn’t it?”
She wasn’t quite ready to admit it to anyone, wasn’t entirely sure she had admitted it to herself.
“Very well then.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Even though you have broken my heart, I shall not let it stand in the way of friendship. And I shall do all I can to lend my assistance.”
“Dare I ask what you mean by that?”
“Absolutely not.” He chuckled.
Exactly what form Val’s assistance would take was soon more than apparent. While he continued to charm the girls and the other ladies, he paid Willie particular attention. On the return to the villa, throughout an excellent dinner and well into an evening of games meant to familiarize them with those played at the casino, he was rarely far from her side.
Dante grew more and more—not forbidding exactly—but stiff. Stuffy. Horribly formal. He scarcely said anything to her that wasn’t necessary and perfectly polite.
By the time she retired, Willie had come to two realizations. First—a man who truly wanted a woman, who had feelings for a woman, really needed to make some effort in that regard and not expect her to simply fall into his arms. Nor should he act like a spoiled child. It was not at all attractive.
And second—Val was right. Regardless of George’s indiscretions, she had never been unfaithful. Now it seemed the type of wife who remained true even to a husband who didn’t deserve it was not the kind of widow who had holiday flings. No matter how wonderful the man. Or how thoughts of him were constantly on her mind. Or how independent she was.
Or how she suspected he might well be the love of her life.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“IT DOES NOT serve your cause to appear quite so grim,” Roz said in an overly casual manner, as if her words were of no particular importance. Which always meant they were.
Dante took a sip of champagne, his gaze on one of the couples swirling around the crowded dance floor in the grand ballroom at the Hotel de Paris. Willie was breathtaking in a pale gold gown that complemented her hair and was entirely too revealing in the front and too low in the back, with gathered sleeves low on her shoulders that left her arms bare except for her gloves. She was dancing with Brookings. Again. “Appearances, my dear sister, are often deceiving.”
“My dear sister? My, you are in a foul mood.”
He glanced at her. Her gaze too was fixed on the dancers or rather on one dancer in particular. Harriet had been partnered with one eager gentleman after another from very nearly the second they’d stepped into the ballroom. Apparently, a popular daughter was as much a curse as a blessing. And while they had no indication that Goodwin was in the vicinity, Roz refused to let the girl out of her sight.
“My mood is fine, thank you. I simply don’t know why we’re here in the first place.” He noted the petulant tone of his voice but he didn’t care. Petulant suited him.
“We’re here because Lord Brookings was kind enough to procure us all invitations.”
“I would dispute the word kind.” At that moment, Brookings must have said something amusing and Willie laughed. Dante’s stomach twisted. “More self-serving I would say.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
He ignored her. “He said it was a small gathering of friends.” In truth, the ballroom was filled to overflowing. “This is scarcely a small gathering.”
“Yet another reason to dislike him.”
“I don’t know him well enough to dislike him.”
And yet he did. Quite a lot really. Dante had thought once they’d left the villa, they’d leave Brookings behind, as well. But every time he turned around, the blasted man was right there by Willie’s side. Right after they’d checked in yesterday, he’d appeared with an invitation for a sail on the yacht of an acquaintance. Dante had declined—he had no desire to spend more time on the water than necessary—but the rest of their party was delighted. Last night Brookings accompanied them to the casino and seemed to take it upon himself to make certain Willie had an enjoyable evening. And indeed, she did appear to be having a good time of it. At least she had laughed a great deal. Far more than Dante deemed necessary.
Even today Brookings had joined them for lunch and when Dante had spotted Willie on the hotel terrace studying her guidebooks and had started toward her, Brookings was there before him. And tonight, Brookings had danced entirely too many dances with her. Not that it mattered. Not that Dante cared. Admittedly, he had thought himself in love with her but upon further consideration, he might have been mistaken. He wanted the Portinari, nothing more.
“You could ask her to dance, you know.”
Dante’s jaw tightened. “I will not play this game again, Roz.”
She looked at him with surprise. “What game?”
“I will not be played for a fool by a woman again.”
Roz stared. “What are you talking about?”
“I know the signs. I have been through this before.” He sipped his wine and wished it was something stronger. “If that’s the kind of man she wants, I will not allow her to use me to make him come up to snuff.”
“That’s what you’ve been thinking?”
“I think it’s obvious.”
“Good Lord.” She snorted back a laugh. “You are an idiot.”
“Thank you for your sisterly support,” he snapped.
“Dante.” She heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I find it hard to believe you cannot see what is right in front of your face.”
“I have seen more than enough.”
“Willie is not using you to ensnare him. Quite the opposite really, which you would realize if you weren’t so busy being stuffy and self-righteous.”
“I am neither stuffy nor self-righteo
us and what do you mean—just the opposite?”
Roz rolled her gaze toward the elaborately carved and painted ceiling. “I mean, my dear brother, that if you hadn’t been keeping your distance, you might have noticed Willie has done absolutely nothing to encourage Lord Brookings. He is an unrepentant flirt but I do believe his interest in her is genuine friendship. Hard to believe such a thing can happen between a man and a woman but there you have it.”
“You still haven’t explained what just the opposite means.”
“Goodness, Dante, Willie Bascombe is not the type of woman who plays silly games with the hearts of men. Frankly, I don’t believe she knows how. She is not Juliet Pauling and she is not trying to use you to make him jealous. Not that you are cooperating the tiniest bit in that.”
“Not bloody likely,” he muttered.
“Nor do I think she is trying to make you jealous by using him.”
He scoffed. “Not that she could.”
She cast him a pitying look. “And yet you are jealous.”
“Hardly.”
“As I said, while she has not encouraged him, Brookings is a man with a mind of his own. I suspect he thinks he is helping her by making you jealous.”
“I already told you, I am not—”
“Of course you are. Any fool can see it.” She paused. “Except perhaps Willie, who is too busy wondering why you have been cold and remote and not at all pleasant toward her. Why you seemed quite taken with her one day and scarcely spoke to her the next.”
“Rubbish. I have been unfailingly polite.” Admittedly, every time Brookings made a move toward Willie, Dante took a step back in both manner and proximity. He couldn’t seem to help himself.
“You have been an ass.”
“Regardless, I refuse to play these sorts of games,” he said coolly. “I simply want the Portinari and that will be that.”
“You poor, stupid man.” Sympathy sounded in his sister’s voice. “Somewhere in your quest to become her friend you have fallen in love with the woman.”
His jaw clenched. It was pointless to deny it. He had thought exactly the same thing.
“I saw you kiss her,” she said reluctantly. “At Notre Dame. I dropped my glove on the top step and returned for it. I couldn’t help but see the two of you.”
“It was a mere kiss, Roz. Nothing more than that.”
She scoffed. “It was far more than a mere kiss.”
“You watched?”
“No, of course not. Well, not for long anyway. It was completely inadvertent on my part and hardly more than a glimpse. But it was most impressive.” She shook her head. “I had no idea my stuffy, proper brother could be so—”
“That’s enough, Roz.”
“That was not the kind of kiss a man like you gives a woman he does not love. Nor does a woman kiss a man in return the way she did without sharing his feelings.”
“You gathered that from a glimpse?”
“It was more than enough.”
“Rubbish. As I said, it was only a kiss. Do not make it into more than it was.” Even as he said the words, he knew it was a lie and suspected his sister knew, as well. She’d always been annoyingly intuitive about such things. And as much as he had tried to tell himself in the last few days that he was mistaken about his feelings, that he didn’t love Willie, that too was a lie.
“You needn’t deny how you feel.” Roz shrugged. “I saw it coming from almost the first moment you met. And we have all noticed, with the exception of Willie herself perhaps. Even the girls have mentioned it. Dante.” She paused and placed her hand on his sleeve. “I have never seen you so, well, happy as you have been since you met her. There is a joy about you that has been missing for a long time. I feared that nastiness with Miss Pauling, your dedication to your business and the museum, and your tendency toward propriety and following rules and doing what was expected had snuffed that out in you. She has brought it back.”
His sister was right. Willie was not at all the kind of woman he ever thought he wanted. Her reputation was not above reproach, her education was questionable, her family connections minimal. But she was amusing and clever, determined and reluctantly independent. And she made him feel as if life itself was an adventure. The woman had worked her way into his heart and it would never be the same again. “While I am not saying you’re right,” he said slowly, “what would you suggest I do?”
“You’re asking for my advice? Again?”
“Apparently.” He summoned a wry smile.
“Very well.” She thought for a moment. “First, stop acting like a spoiled child. If you want her, go after her. Pursue her as you would a new acquisition for the museum or a coveted business arrangement. Or in the manner in which you tried to gain her friendship. That seemed to be working quite nicely.”
“What if she doesn’t share my feelings?” He met his sister’s gaze. “What am I to do then?”
“Quite honestly, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “But I do know, dear brother, if you do nothing you may well lose a chance—perhaps your only chance—at true happiness.”
“You could be entirely wrong, you know.”
“Good Lord, Dante. We are here in one of the premier gambling centers of the world. Allow some of that to rub off on you. Take a chance. Try your luck. Can you feel any worse than you do now?”
“Probably.”
“Nonsense.” She scanned the dancers. “This dance is nearly over and I know for a fact Lord Brookings is to dance with Harriet next. Which means Willie is free to dance with you. I suggest you take advantage of the opportunity.”
“Very well.” He adjusted his cuffs.
“And for goodness’ sake, do try to be pleasant and charming.” She met his gaze firmly. “Try to be the man you were in Paris. The man who kissed her on the top of a cathedral.”
He raised a brow. “More advice, Roz?”
“And excellent advice it is too.” She nodded at the dance floor. The music had ended and couples were dispersing. “Now go, before you lose your opportunity and someone else claims this dance.”
He started toward Willie.
“You’re quite welcome,” Roz called after him.
A minute later he met Willie and Brookings coming off the dance floor.
“Lady Bascombe,” he began in a manner far more formal than he wished. “May I have the honor of the next dance?”
A slight frown creased her forehead. “I’m not sure I wish to dance another dance at the moment.”
“Don’t be absurd—of course you do,” Brookings said firmly. “You are in for a treat, Mr. Montague. Lady Bascombe is an accomplished dancer.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed.”
“Have you?” Willie’s tone was cool.
“I should have asked before now. However, if you would prefer not to—”
“Nonsense. She was just saying how long it had been since she’d danced and how very much she missed it,” Brookings said with a confident smile. “And I have the next dance with a lovely young woman whose mother does not see me as a suitable match. Exactly the kind I prefer.” He grinned at Willie. “I’m confident I leave you in excellent hands, my dear.” He nodded at Dante and took his leave.
“Shall we?” Dante said and Willie stepped into his arms.
A sedate waltz began and they danced together with an ease that belied the tension between them. In spite of the pleasure of having her again in his arms, his doubts overshadowed his sister’s words. He had no idea what to say or where to start and was shocked to realize he was afraid to say anything at all. Rationally, he suspected Roz was right about Willie and Brookings. But his feelings were an entirely different matter. He’d been horribly humiliated by a woman once. He would not let it happen again.
She drew a deep breath and stared up a
t him. “Are you angry with me? Have I done something to offend you?”
“No.” He paused. “And my apologies if I have given you that impression.”
“I don’t see what other impression I could have.”
“Again, I am sorry.”
He led her through a complicated turn and she followed his lead flawlessly.
“Are we to dance the entire dance without saying another word to each other?” Willie asked at last.
“I’m not sure what to say.”
“I find that hard to believe.” She heaved a resigned sigh. “Very well then.” She adopted a brilliant smile. “I find the weather here to be delightful. So warm and sunny and quite unlike England at this time of year.”
“Well, we are on a southern coast.”
“There is that.” She sighed and a moment later tried again. “It’s a lovely evening, don’t you think?”
“The others seem to be enjoying it. My sister has run into a few people she knows.”
“It was quite thoughtful of Lord Brookings to secure us invitations.”
He scoffed.
“You don’t think it was thoughtful of him?” Her words were measured.
A tiny voice of reason in the back of his head—a voice that hadn’t said a word in recent days—warned him to tread carefully. He ignored it. “I think Lord Brookings’s motives are suspect.”
Her eyes widened. “What on earth do you mean by that?”
“I don’t like the way he is always fawning over you,” he said in a lofty manner.
“Lord Brookings?” Disbelief rang in her voice.
“Is there someone else fawning over you?”
The Lady Travelers Guide to Larceny With a Dashing Stranger Page 19
