‘I do love Anthony, with all my heart, but I—’
‘Then all will be well,’ Jane said firmly, using her own handkerchief to dry Diana’s eyes. ‘Now come, there’s a lovely courtyard behind this house, and a path beside the canal. Let’s go for a small walk together, Diana, just as we used to do at Aston Hall. You remember that. There’s nothing for clearing one’s head like a walk, is there?’
She called to the servants to bring their cloaks, and in a few minutes’ time she and Diana were walking arm in arm, their heads close together in conversation. It was, in fact, much like the old days—just as Richard was often restless without sufficient exercise, so it was with Diana, too, and Jane had long ago learned that the best way to calm Diana was a brief, brisk walk. The morning was clear and cool and the breeze ruffled their skirts around their ankles. They’d the walkway along this narrow canal to themselves, with only their own reflections on the water for company.
‘It was Anthony’s idea, you see,’ Diana was saying. ‘He thought that we could bring you back to Rome with us, and then make you a permanent part of our household. You’d be my companion for now, and later our child’s governess. It would have been perfect.’
Jane smiled. There’d been a time when Lord Anthony’s suggestion would have seemed like the sweetest deliverance from all her worries. Now, however, she’d the chance of a love and a life of her own, perhaps even motherhood. How could she think of anything else, when they were so near to the arching footbridge where she and Richard had first kissed?
‘It would have been perfect, yes,’ she said, ‘and I thank both you and his lordship for considering me. But now that your father has—’
‘Oh, Father!’ cried Diana petulantly. ‘Father has simply ruined everything!’
‘By falling in love with me?’ Jane asked. ‘You believe our love is ruination? That is why you so objected?’
Diana sighed heavily. ‘Not exactly a ruination, no. That’s not what I meant. But for him to claim you—’
‘Will make him happy, and me as well.’ Jane’s smile was wistful, for to her it did not seem a ruination at all. ‘You and His Lordship have found your love together. How can you wish us any less than you have for yourself?’
Diana stopped as another fresh round of tears overtook her. ‘Oh, Miss Wood, I am sorry!’
‘I do not want you to be sorry, Diana,’ Jane said softly, ‘only that you understand. I love your father with all my heart, as he does me. It’s quite a miracle, one I never expected, but then love is like that, isn’t it?’
‘Miss Wood,’ Diana whispered, and squeezed Jane’s hand. ‘Dear, dear Miss Wood!’
‘Not Miss Wood,’ Jane said tenderly. ‘Call me Jane, if you can. I’d never dare to claim your mother’s place in your heart, but I’ll always love you as a mother should, if only you’ll let me.’
Without waiting for a reply, she hugged Diana close, her heart so full of love that she doubted she could speak another word. No matter if she and Richard were blessed with children of their own: she now had two daughters that she already adored, and one with a grandchild on the way, too. She closed her eyes, both to squeeze back her tears and to savour the moment all the more. How could she ever be any happier than this?
With her heart so full, she did not hear the lapping of the canal as the hired gondola glided close to the pavement. With her eyes shut, she didn’t see the two men, their faces hidden by long-nosed Carnevale masks, jump from the gondola to the paving stones. She wasn’t aware that they’d clambered up on to the walk to rush towards them. She didn’t realise their size or strength until one of the men had grabbed her from behind to jerk her away from Diana, nor see the heavy black tarpaulin, reeking of fish, until it was thrown over her head and bundled around her. Her cry of surprise and fear was smothered inside it, and as she twisted and struggled to escape, the man grabbed her around the knees and slung her over his shoulder.
She could see nothing, hear nothing, and the heavy, disorienting blackness terrified her even more. She felt herself lifted through the air and then dropped hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. Yet even as she gasped for breath, her first thought wasn’t or herself, but for Diana and her unborn child.
‘Diana!’ she cried frantically as she flailed against the heavy cloth. She must be in the bottom of a gondola. She could feel the now-familiar motion of gliding across the water, and hear the squeak of the single sweeping oar in the oar-lock at the stern. ‘Diana, sweet, are you with me? Can you hear me?’
‘Silenzio!’ The man jabbed at her roughly through the tarpaulin to give extra emphasis to his order, and another man laughed. ‘Avverbio, abberbio, eh?’
Fighting her panic, Jane forced herself to be silent as he’d bidden. She’d achieve nothing against them if she couldn’t be calm, and think, think.
There were at least two men, maybe more. The sound of the water beneath them had changed, enough that she knew they’d left the narrow canals and were headed for the open sea of the Bacino di San Marco. There, too, were the distinctive bells of the Basilica, tolling the hour. That much she could discern.
Yet none of this made sense. Everyone had assured her that the particular neighbourhood of the Ca’ Battista was among the safest in the entire city, a most unlikely place for a woman to be kidnapped at random in the bright morning light.
Unless, of course, it wasn’t random. Immediately she thought of Signor di Rossi, and again she struggled to control her fear. He had to be the one behind this. There was no one else in Venice who it could be, nor another who would dare be so desperate. Whatever had she done to make him so fascinated with her? What unwitting encouragement had she offered to him that he’d so wrongly misread, and contrived such an unwanted attachment to her? And why now had he ordered her stolen away like this?
The only good she could find in it was that he’d wanted her, not Diana. Left behind, Diana would be distraught, but safe, and she could also tell Richard what had happened. She’d no doubt that Richard would find her. Richard, and Lord Anthony, and Lord John, too, would join together as a family should to rescue her. It was a comfort, but a small one. Until they found her, she’d be entirely, entirely on her own, and if—
‘Are you there, Miss Wood?’ Diana’s voice was a bewildered, muffled wail of terror. ‘Miss Wood!’
‘Diana!’ Again Jane struggled to free herself, kicking and clawing at the heavy tarp that surrounded her. ‘Diana, sweet, I’m here, I’m here, be brave, and—’
‘Silenzio!’ This time the man struck Jane harder, knocking her so sharply on her shoulder that she yelped from the pain of it.
‘Diana, sweet, I’m here!’ she cried, ignoring the man’s order. ‘Everything will be fine, I promise you, everything will be—’
But the man’s hand pressed roughly over her mouth through the tarp to stop her words. Jane closed her eyes, at last letting her tears flow. Not even the best governess in the world could keep cheerful now, and it didn’t matter what she’d just told Diana. Diana might be frightened by the situation they were in, but grim as that was, Jane was more terrified of what might lie ahead for them, especially if the signor was involved.
And no matter how hard she tried, she could not think of how any of it would ever be half as fine as she’d promised.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Once again Richard drew out his watch, flipped it open with his thumb, and glanced at the face.
‘They haven’t been gone long, Father,’ Mary said gently. ‘Only a half of an hour at the most. Likely it’s taken all this time just for poor Miss Wood—that is, for Jane—to speak a single word of her own. You know how Diana can be.’
‘Hah, don’t we all.’ Resigned, Richard tucked the watch away. Diana had always been astonishingly absorbed with herself. If she followed her usual habit, it could take her an hour to air her unhappiness, and more beyond that for Jane to soothe her. He glanced across to Diana’s husband. ‘I expect you’ve discovered that about my daughter by now,
too, Randolph, haven’t you?’
The younger man smiled benignly. ‘Love has given me patience beyond measure, your Grace. Diana is so dear to me that I’m only vexed when we’re apart.’
Richard nodded, surprised that the rogue would be so romantically sentimental. Yet what Randolph said was true. He didn’t want to be apart from his Jane at all, even for such a good purpose as mending family fences with Diana. Likely he was being overprotective, but damnation, if it were up to him, she’d never feel a scrap of danger or fear again. He flexed his wounded hand, wincing a bit as he remembered the night before. He and Jane should both still be in bed, and they’d be there, too, if his daughters hadn’t insisted on surprising them like this, and now—
The door to the room swung open and he looked up expectantly. But instead of Jane and Diana as he’d hoped, it was Signora della Battista who’d entered, so agitated that she’d not bothered to wait for leave to enter.
‘My lord Duke, my lord Duke!’ she cried, her face pale and streaked with tears. ‘Sainted Mother in Heaven, that such a thing should happen before my own house!’
Another woman had uncertainly followed the signora into the room, a frightened, round-faced woman whose apron and hands were still dusted with flour from baking. She made a quick curtsy, then began speaking so hurriedly in Italian that Richard couldn’t begin to follow it. Yet still, with a sick certainty, he understood.
Something had happened to Jane.
At once Lord Anthony stepped forwards. ‘What is wrong, signora?’ he demanded in curt Italian that even Richard could make out. ‘What has happened? Are the two ladies—?’
‘Sequestrare!’ cried the anguished signora, wringing her hands before she and the other woman rushed into an unfathomable outpouring of Italian.
‘What is it, Randolph?’ Richard demanded, his dread rising by the second. ‘What the devil are they saying?’
Anthony’s expression had become fixed. ‘They say that Diana and Miss Wood were walking beside the canal, when two ruffians jumped from a gondola. They seized Miss Wood first, and when Diana protested, they took her, too, and carried them both away in the gondola.’
‘Who would do such an unspeakable act?’ exclaimed the signora in English. ‘Oh, my dear, gentle sirs! We must send for the soldiers, we must summon the Council! Who would dare kidnap two such fine English ladies like this?’
But Richard knew, just as he knew what he must do to save both his daughter, his unborn grandchild and the woman he loved above all others.
And when he was done, he would be sure that the Signor Giovanni Rinaldini di Rossi would heartily wish he’d never crossed the Duke of Aston.
As his gondola glided swiftly through the narrow canals, di Rossi could scarcely contain his anticipation. He’d been disappointed so often by the incompetence of others that he’d never expected the servants he’d sent this morning to act so quickly, or with such success. When word had come to di Rossi that his little governess was waiting for him, he’d gasped aloud with joy. This time, she’d not escape. This time, at last, she’d be his.
He smoothed the black velvet along his fingers, one gloved hand over the other. He’d had Jane Wood taken to the Ca’ Colomba—the House of the Dove—a small house he kept on one of Venice’s many islands. The area had lost much of it past lustre, and di Rossi wore a sword against the chance he’d be attacked by petty thieves. But danger or no, it amused him no end that the house had begun its long life as a nunnery for an order that had been disgraced by scandal and dissolved two hundred years earlier on account of the lewd behaviour of its wanton sisters. Now he’d returned it to its illicit beginnings, using it to host licentious gatherings for his friends, assignations with courtesans who could cater to his tastes, and other debauchery he’d rather not have connected to his own palazzo. Venice was a city famously tolerant of its pleasures, but di Rossi’s family was an old and revered one, and he understood the value of discretion.
Which was why he was particularly pleased with this day’s success. To steal away the plaything of an English peer from beneath his very nose—ahh, could there be a more delicious trick? No matter how much Aston railed before the local authorities, they’d only shrug and wink and do nothing. A young female servant who wearied of the master’s attentions and left for another household was a tale as old as servants themselves, and hardly against any law. And when it was the word of a foreigner against a di Rossi, there’d be no doubt in whose favour the magistrates would rule.
Di Rossi smiled behind his mask. He’d considered ordering the governess to be dressed as a penitent novice, in rough white linen with her little feet bare and her hair loose. He was fond of taking virgins dressed that way—the humble garb made their cries even more delectable—but he was already so inflamed by the little Englishwoman that the penitent’s costume would be unnecessary, at least at first. There’d be time enough for such amusing refinements once he’d enjoyed her maidenhead.
At last the Ca’ Columba loomed before him, seeming to float on the island’s mists, and it took all of di Rossi’s will-power to remain on his bench while the gondola drew close and his servant landed first to have the door opened for him. Di Rossi climbed the landing and entered the door, where he was greeted by the housekeeper and the two servants in charge of capturing Jane Wood. Impatiently he motioned for them to rise.
‘You’ve welcomed my guest, then?’ he asked, glancing up the stairs. ‘She waits in the first bedchamber?’
‘She awaits you, yes, signor,’ the housekeeper said, hesitating just enough that di Rossi noticed and looked at her sharply.
‘She awaits me, yes?’ he repeated curtly. ‘Or not?’
‘She does, master, she does,’ one of the men said. ‘But because we were not sure which of the two English ladies was the one you sought, we took them both.’
‘Both?’ Di Rossi struck the man across his face as hard as he could, sending him staggering backwards. Without pause he stormed up the stairway, determined to discover how badly these imbeciles had erred this time. He waved aside the footman who’d been posted as a guard outside the bedchamber, and unlocked the door himself.
As he’d ordered, only a single candlestick lit the room, but by its light he could clearly see that there were not one, but two, young women, sitting on the edge of their bed with their arms clasped around one another’s shoulders for comfort.
‘You have gone too far this time, signor.’ Jane Wood rose at once, her round face glowing with foolish defiance. ‘You have no right to keep us here against our will.’
‘I have every right in the world,’ he said, smiling. She was delightful like this, her outrage as impotent as a child’s. ‘You are in my house now, my dear, and I am your master.’
‘You’re nothing of the sort,’ the other woman proclaimed, standing beside Jane. She was younger, tall and fair with golden hair, the sort of pink-and-white Amazon that the English favoured. Though she didn’t match di Rossi’s own tastes, he wasn’t about to scorn the unexpected bounty of two young playthings for his amusement.
‘You must release us at once,’ she demanded. ‘You cannot hold us against our wills. We are English.’
‘And you believe that will impress me?’ he asked, bemused. ‘Arrogant creature.’
He beckoned to the servants behind him. They knew immediately what he expected and hurried to seize the two women, deftly pinning their arms behind their backs as they yelped and fought with indignation and fear. Di Rossi enjoyed that, too, for there were few things more pleasing to him than the forced conquest of a proud, pretty woman, to be followed by her inevitable submission.
‘Villain!’ cried the blonde woman, breathing hard. ‘Don’t you know who we are?’
Di Rossi bowed, enjoying her humiliation. ‘I know Miss Wood, of course, and in time I shall have the delight of your acquaintance, too.’
‘There will be no acquaintance between us, sir,’ she said sharply, drawing herself up as straight as she could with her arms pinion
ed behind her. ‘I am Lady Anthony Randolph, and my father is the Duke of Aston, and both of them will be eager to make you answer for this outrage!’
She tried again to shake free of her captor, and as she did her cloak fell open. For the first time di Rossi saw the rounded swell of her pregnant belly, and revulsion swept over him. He would have forgiven her a lack of virginity—besides, he’d his dear little governess for that—but breeding women disgusted him with their clumsy, misshapen bodies, swollen with another man’s seed.
‘Only if they would ever connect me to you,’ he said with chill uninterest. ‘They will not, of course. I have as little interest in you as you have in me, and you will simply be made to disappear. They say the Turkish slavers are always eager for gold-haired women like you, eager enough that they’d take your brat, too. You could become quite the prize of some sultan’s harem, cara.’
It was gratifying to see how the woman paled and shrank away from him, her bravado gone in an instant. Harems and slavery always had that effect on ladies.
‘But you, dolce,’ he said, smiling as he turned towards Jane Wood. ‘I won’t part with you, not for all the gold the Turks might offer.’
‘With all my heart I wish you would,’ she said, as defiant as a governess could be. ‘I want nothing to do with you, signor. Nothing!’
His smile curled upwards with anticipation. ‘You say that now, cara, but I’ve planned many ways of changing your mind.’
Teasing himself as much as her, he unfastened the clasp of her cloak and pushed it from her shoulders. She held his gaze, not looking away, yet still unable to control her trembling. Pretty little creature, he thought fondly, and trailed his fingers along the slender column of her throat to feel her fear. He liked that, too, and unable to resist any longer, leaned forwards to kiss her.
The Duke's Governess Bride Page 23
