Seduced by Innocence

by Lucy Gordon

  “I think Leo felt that,” she said slowly. “Italy called him.”

  “You spoke of a brother—”

  “Yes, Leo is my twin.” Terri’s heart began to beat faster as she came to the moment when she must decide just how much it was safe to tell. “He came to Venice, but his hotel closed for the winter and he moved out without telling me where he was going.” She gave a little laugh that she tried to make sound natural. “He’s such a wretch, always moving about, disappearing and reappearing suddenly. When I realized he’d taken off again, I got jealous. Why should he have all the fun of Italy? So I packed my bags and followed him here. Perhaps I’ll get on to his trail. If not, I’ll still have enjoyed myself.”

  It was a plausible story, and she finished it with a chuckle, meant to convey the impression that her search was a lighthearted matter.

  “And also you will have discovered who you are,” Maurizio said.

  “Well—I think I know who I am. But I’ll discover more about my roots.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing? You may find you’re more Italian than English, after all.”

  “I shouldn’t think that’s likely, not after the way I was raised.”

  “Don’t be too sure. Italy is a jealous mother. Her children are hers alone, no matter who else has nursed them.”

  “I wonder,” she said. “I really wonder.”

  Maurizio became absorbed in watching her face. It had an inward, untouched quality that puzzled him. She was so different from what he’d expected that for a moment he forgot his purpose and concentrated on watching the shifts of thought and feeling over her delicate features. She had an air of candor and warmth that touched his cynical heart like a spring breeze and he was almost tempted to take her farther along the path they’d started—or let her take him. He wasn’t sure which. But then he remembered that spring had been over long ago. The early darkness that had fallen on the city was proof of that, and what was true of Venice was true of himself. What was done was done and he could afford no distractions.

  With an effort, he forced himself back to reality. “Tell me about your brother. You said you’re twins. Are you close?”

  “Yes, we’ve always been closer to each other than to anyone else,” Terri said with a reminiscent smile. “As long as I can recall, I’ve looked after him.”

  “You looked after him?” Maurizio asked in surprise. “Not he after you?”

  Terri chuckled. “He’s just a kid in many ways. Although we’re the same age, I’ve always felt years older. Whenever he got into trouble, I talked him out of it.”

  “And if you were in trouble, didn’t he come to your rescue?” Maurizio’s face lit up with sudden humor. “Or were you never in trouble? Yes, that was it. I see you as one of those terribly neat little girls with every hair in place and an air of natural authority.”

  “What a dreadful picture,” Terri said, laughing. “I was never like that. I was a tomboy, always in mischief.”

  “Now, I find that very hard to picture. You, a tomboy? You seem so—sedate.”

  “I was a tomboy when I was a child,” Terri insisted. “Reckless, and always ready to stick my nose into everything, especially where it had no business being—according to my mother. But when I was about fifteen I—I changed.”

  “Of course, a girl grows up,” Maurizio agreed, “but she doesn’t usually alter completely.”

  “Well, I changed,” Terri said quickly. She didn’t want to explore this topic. Even in her own mind, she didn’t like to dwell on the way winter had fallen on her, nipping her spring promise in the bud, freezing her heart and her senses. She hurried on. “When we were children, Leo rescued me from trees I shouldn’t have climbed, from bullies. I rescued him from the wrath of the adults.” Her face softened. “It’s funny how someone can make you feel protective. He’s a cheery soul, full of life and laughter, and quite sure he can take care of himself. It’s just that somehow he’s like a puppy who doesn’t understand what a dangerous place the world is.”

  “And you do?” Maurizio was watching her face closely.

  “Yes, I do,” she said quietly. She became suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t know what’s making me talk like this. I’ve never discussed my feelings for Leo before.”

  “Perhaps you’ve never needed to,” Maurizio said. He added softly, “It can take a long time for us to understand what people mean to us.”

  “You say that as if it meant something special,” Terri said, watching him curiously.

  After a moment, he said, “It does. I, too, had a brother whom I had to protect, because he was much younger than me, little more than a boy. I raised Rufio after our parents died and I felt more like his father than his brother. I, too, feared for him because he didn’t know that the world was a dangerous place. I tried to teach him caution but—I failed.”

  “You talk about him in the past tense,” Terri said slowly.

  “Yes. Rufio is dead.” Maurizio’s tone was abrupt, shutting off further inquiry.

  Anyone else would have been awed into silence, but Terri’s quick sympathy had detected the pain behind the curtness, and she asked gently, “Has he been dead for long?”

  “Nine months. He died in February, during Carnival. It’s a time when we celebrate life, good food and wine and the joys of love.” A shudder went through Maurizio’s big frame. “And in that time he died,” he finished harshly.

  “That must have been terrible for you.”

  “Yes, it was,” Maurizio answered. “He was the closest family I had.”

  “You have no wife or children?” Terri asked the question simply and without archness, as though she was completely unaware that she was an attractive woman dining with an eligible man.

  “Neither.”

  “Then you’re completely alone. I’m sorry.”

  The sweetness of her voice touched his heart, and for a moment he could find nothing to say. This wasn’t how he’d planned it. He’d known in advance what Elena Calvani’s daughter would be like, and her looks had seemed to confirm it. She was beautiful in the same way as her mother, with an apparent fragility that was designed to put a man in a fever, and, he had no doubt, an inner core of steel to lure her victim to destruction.

  But so far, he couldn’t detect the steel. Instead, she dressed like a woman who didn’t want to be noticed, and talked about her missing brother with a gentle wistfulness that had given him a pang of guilt for what he was concealing. And in her protective attitude toward Leo, she’d revealed herself as a kindred spirit, with an empathy that had taken her straight to the heart of Maurizio’s loneliness. It was all wrong.

  He realized that he’d fallen into a reverie when he saw her looking at him inquiringly. He forced himself to concentrate. “I’m hardly alone,” he said, indicating his surroundings with a light laugh. “The owner of the Midas can never complain of too much solitude.”

  “But that wasn’t what I— I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  He had a disconcerting desire to tell her that it was her business, that he would tell her anything she asked, in return for the relief of being able to talk about Rufio’s loss to a sympathetic heart. The need filled him with alarm. Of course, this was just one of her seductive tricks, and he must be extra careful.

  “Not at all,” he said blandly. “It’s very kind of you to be interested. Tell me some more about your brother.”

  “Actually, I was going to ask you about him. I know he came here a lot. Surely you must have seen him?”

  “Many people come to the Midas…but yes, I recall Leo Wainright, a fair-haired young man, with a face very like yours. He was fascinated by art and wanted to be told about each of the pictures in the hotel.”

  “That’s Leo,” Terri said eagerly. “He was always interested in art but he felt he had to hide it because—”

  “Because?”

  “Because our mother didn’t like it. Leo would have liked to be a painter, but he had to make do with learning how to d
esign jewelry at evening class. She’d have stopped him doing that, too, if she could.” Terri hesitated, on the verge of telling him the whole story, but decided against it. It was curious how easy she found Maurizio to talk to, as though they had natural entry into each other’s minds. It was pleasant, but it tempted her to be incautious. For the moment, she was feeling her way gradually, picking up snippets of information about Leo, hopefully without attracting attention. “She felt that art was a lot of nonsense,” she finished lamely.

  “But that wasn’t what you were going to say,” Maurizio said, looking at her strangely. “There’s something more, something that you couldn’t decide whether or not to tell me.”

  “No, truly, there’s nothing,” Terri disclaimed.

  “I think there is,” he urged.

  “Well—I’ve forgotten what I was thinking,” she said hastily.

  She was lying, he thought. And that was a kind of relief because it fit his original ideas about her. Except that she didn’t lie like an experienced schemer, but like an awkward schoolgirl.

  “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you—”

  Terri looked up quickly to see the man who’d spoken. He looked about sixty and although he was well dressed, his face suggested someone who’d knocked about the world and gotten roughed up in the process. But he’d learned kindness and wisdom, too, if his gentle, smiling eyes were anything to go by.

  “My Uncle Bruno,” Maurizio said, indicating the stranger.

  “I won’t stay long,” Bruno said, “but I need your signature on a couple of forms.”

  “And of course it couldn’t have waited until tomorrow,” Maurizio said wryly.

  “I thought I’d clear my desk out immediately,” Bruno said placidly. “These impulses seize me sometimes.”

  “I should have guessed that one of them would seize you tonight,” Maurizio responded. He spoke good-humoredly but with a touch of exasperation, and Terri had the sense of swirling undercurrents outside her comprehension.

  Maurizio signaled a waiter to bring a fresh bottle of wine and another glass. “Sit down and join us, Bruno,” he said.

  “Well, if you insist.” Bruno seated himself beside Terri and gave her all his attention while Maurizio flicked through the papers, adding his signature here and there.

  “What do you think of our city?” Bruno asked Terri.

  “I’m still new to it, but what little I’ve seen is magical,” she answered at once.

  “Ah, yes. Those who see Venice for the first time always think it magical.”

  She laughed. She felt relaxed and full of enchantment. “Are you trying to tell me that it isn’t?”

  “I’m saying that there’s more than one kind of magic,” Bruno said slowly. “Black magic as well as white. Venice isn’t always a place of sunshine. You need to know about the shadows—secret corners where reality comes and goes and a million things are hidden. Darkness is dangerous but twilight is more dangerous still, for in the darkness we’re all on our guard.”

  “And should I be on my guard?” she asked, half laughing, half intrigued by something in his tone that was more than just raillery.

  “One should always be on guard in unfamiliar territory, signorina. Don’t believe that things are as they seem. They almost never are. Isn’t that so, nephew?” Abruptly, Bruno turned his attention to Maurizio.

  “Why ask me?” Maurizio demanded with a shrug. “I’m not a poet.”

  “That’s right, you’re not. Not a poet, but a man with a fixed idea. That, too, is dangerous.”

  “I’m sure we’re boring the signorina,” Maurizio said coolly.

  Bruno drained his glass. “Now I’ll leave, for I sense that I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

  “Not with me,” Terri said instantly.

  Bruno’s answer was an enigmatic smile at Maurizio. Then he was gone.

  “Did he mean anything by all that?” she asked.

  “My uncle is a poet. He talks riddles and sees things that aren’t there.”

  But although he smiled, Terri had a strange feeling that he was no longer at ease. There was a new constraint in his manner and she, too, felt as though Bruno’s intervention had broken a spell. His words “secret corners where reality comes and goes and a million things are hidden” echoed curiously in her mind. It was to find what was hidden that she’d come to Venice, a city of secrets where reality came and went.

  Maurizio glanced at his watch, making a sound of impatience. “Unfortunately, it’s time for me to go on duty in the casino. Will you be coming to play?”

  “I’d like to,” Terri told him with a smile.

  But she changed her mind as they approached the entrance to the casino. The women beginning to wander in were dressed in clothes that looked as if they cost as much as Terri earned in a year. Some of them glanced at her in frank amusement, and her self-consciousness deepened. Before she entered this glamorous place, she must be able to compete on equal terms. “On second thought,” she said hurriedly, “I’m a little tired after my journey. I think I’ll have an early night.”

  “Then allow me to escort you to your room,” Maurizio said gallantly. At her door he stopped, took her hand and said, “I’ve greatly enjoyed your company, signorina. May I hope to enjoy it again?”

  Terri drew in a sharp breath to calm the sudden beating of her heart. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how disappointed she would have been if he hadn’t singled her out again. “Oh, yes,” she said quickly. Then, ashamed to sound so eager, she added, “I dare say we’ll bump into each other around the hotel.”

  “I dare say we will,” he agreed, the light of amusement in his eyes. “But did you think that was all I meant?”

  Again his eyes held the look that had disturbed her before, as though everything that was happening had another meaning, a different kind of reality. It all seemed connected to the warmth that was stealing through her from her hand where he was still holding it. There was excitement in his touch and his gaze and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

  “Whatever you meant,” she said slowly, “you must tell me another time. Good night.”

  Chapter Three

  Terri breakfasted in the restaurant next morning, choosing a window seat where she could see the Grand Canal in daylight. At this hour, the traffic was different to that of the evening. Now barges chugged by, laden with supplies for the hotels and restaurants. From her corner position she watched several turn in to the side entrance of the Midas where hotel workers pounced and unloaded them in minutes.

  A waiter noticed her interest. “The kitchen is stocking up for the party tonight, signorina,” he told her.

  “A party?”

  “Signor Maurizio has enlarged the casino and the new rooms are to be opened tonight with a big party.”

  “But I thought that business was falling off because it’s winter—”

  The waiter smiled. “That’s true for other hotels, signorina. Business never falls off at the Midas.” He poured her coffee and departed.

  Terri pulled a map of Venice from her purse and studied it to find the Hotel Busoni, where Leo had stayed until it closed for the winter. She located it, finished her breakfast and left the Midas, confident that she could walk to the Busoni. But after a while, she realized just how different Venice was to all other cities. It wasn’t merely that so many of the “streets” were water; the ones that weren’t water were often no more than tiny alleys, paved with flagstones. These were called calles, and some of them were so narrow that by standing in the middle and stretching out her arms, she could touch both sides at once.

  Without warning, a calle would turn into a bridge taking her over a tiny canal, called a rio, and into a confusing maze. Within a few minutes, she was thoroughly lost and it took her two hours to cover a mile. But at last she came to the Calle Largo, where the Busoni was situated. The little alley was narrow and mysterious and contained several tiny hotels, all of which seemed to be closed.

  A chill breeze blew an
d Terri shivered slightly. Leo had stayed here. He’d trodden these flagstones and walked in and out of that door that was now so firmly shut. But there was no sign of him and the quiet seemed to mock her.

  There were a couple of shops nearby and she was about to enter one in the hope of picking up a scrap of information when a woman appeared on the bridge at the end of the calle and began to walk toward her. She was middle-aged and soberly dressed with neat gray hair and a dour, purposeful air. As Terri watched her, she stopped outside the Busoni and unlocked the door. Hardly able to believe her luck, Terri stepped quickly forward and spoke to her. “Please, can I talk to you?”

  “The hotel is closed for the winter, signorina,” the woman said firmly.

  “I know that. I want to ask about someone who stayed here recently.”

  The woman looked her up and down. “You’d better come in.”

  Inside, everything was shrouded in covers. Their footsteps made a hollow sound on the terrazzo floor as they headed toward the kitchen. The woman gathered up some mail and thrust it into her bag. “I come back sometimes for the mail and to see that all is well,” she explained. “I am Signora Busoni and I own this hotel.”

  “Then you knew my brother, Leo Wainright,” Terri said eagerly.

  Signora Busoni gave a wry smile. “Oh, the young Englishman. I remember him—very charming but usually paid late. He kept losing his money at the Midas.”

  “That’s Leo,” Terri said at once. “Can you tell me where he went?”

  The signora shrugged and began to make coffee. “I wasn’t here on the day he left. I was spending a few days in Verona looking after my mother who was ill. My son Tonio was in charge and unfortunately he’s an idiot. I came back to find everything in chaos, the books not kept properly, receipts lost, bills not paid—total disaster!”

  “But did he know where Leo had gone?” Terri pressed her, trying to curb her impatience.