by Merry Farmer
Her sentiment reflected his own feelings on the matter too perfectly. It sobered him. He sat, bringing her with him, then swung his legs over the side of her narrow bed and stood. “The sooner this whole thing is settled, the sooner we can go back to enjoying ourselves,” he said with a surprisingly rakish grin, reaching for his mostly-dry clothes on the windowsill.
If he were honest with himself, he had no idea what would happen once the danger had passed and he and Charlotte were free to explore whatever it was between them. He wasn’t fool enough to think everything would be a bed of roses, as much as he wanted it to be. He was an English nobleman, set to inherit an earldom one day. Charlotte was a Venetian fortune teller from who knew what kind of background. They’d met less than twenty-four hours before. He didn’t even know why she’d been at Lord Beverly’s house.
His last thought struck him the hardest. “Charlotte,” he said cautiously, fastening his trousers and reaching for his shirt as she slipped a clean blouse over her head. “This might be an odd time to ask such a thing, but if you have some other kind of arrangement with someone that I’m intruding on….” He felt like his words were marbles strewn across the floor and that he was tripping all over them. It only just dawned on him that Charlotte’s profession might have been more than fortune teller. Why else would she have been so quick to go to bed with him.
She popped her head out from her blouse, glancing curiously at him as she straightened it and tucked it into her skirt. “Yes?” She looked far too sweet and innocent to be what Trent suddenly worried she was.
There was nothing for it but to blurt out his question. “Why were you at Lord Beverly’s house this morning?”
When she blushed and glanced away, it was as if his worst fears were confirmed.
“If you have an…an arrangement with him, I’ll…I’ll understand.” He glanced down, his stomach suddenly aching, praying it wasn’t so.
“He’s my father,” Charlotte said, perhaps a little too fast and a little too loud. When Trent looked up at her, she wore an embarrassed smile. “Please tell me you weren’t thinking it was something…less appropriate.”
“Your father?” As quickly as his initial fear vanished, a different concern swooped in. “Lord Beverly is your father?”
Charlotte nodded, finishing with her clothes and walking over to do up the buttons of his shirt. He’d frozen entirely as the information hit him. “My mother was a Romani fortune teller. I learned the art from her. She and my father fell in love, but as you can imagine, an English marquess could never be with a filthy gypsy, as his family so horribly called her.”
Trent caught her hands, holding them to his chest. “I’m sorry their love was denied.”
She glanced wistfully up at him. “It was love,” she said. “Every time I visit my father, he reminds me of that. Mama passed away several years ago, but Lord Beverly insists that I continue to see him, that I am family.”
A strange, feeble feeling of hope filled Trent’s chest. There was no possible way he could be with a fortune teller, but if he was bold enough, perhaps there was a way he could be with the daughter of a marquess, even if she were illegitimate.
That hope propelled him forward. He stole a deep kiss from Charlotte, then straightened. “We should go. I doubt any of my cousins are in bed or thinking of going to bed any time soon, but they may all be out for the night if we don’t return to the palace soon.”
Charlotte nodded and stepped away, taking his hand. They left her flat and wound their way back through the dark, Venetian streets toward San Marco. Trent had no idea where he was, and in the darkness, every street and canal looked the same. Charlotte knew the city well, though, so he had no fear of traversing the narrow alleys and dark corners.
The palace where the McGovern family was staying was a sharp contrast to the shabby but clean neighborhood where Charlotte lived. It was bright and alive with color and company as he and Charlotte were let in through the front door. The butler eyed Charlotte suspiciously, especially since Trent still held her hand as they headed across the front hall, but he didn’t say a word. Trent was certain he recognized her from the party the night before.
“Do you know where my cousin, Lord Addlebury, is?” he asked the butler.
“I believe he is out for the evening, my lord,” the butler replied in thickly-accented English.
Trent frowned, studying Charlotte for a moment as though the sight of her would help him decide what to do. Sure enough, inspiration struck.
“How about his younger brother, Lord Thomas?” he asked.
The butler’s expression changed. “Lord Thomas and the others are in the swan room, my lord.”
Trent nodded to the man and led Charlotte deeper into the palace. They heard the sound of the McGovern cousins enjoying their own company long before they turned the corner into the swan room to join them. His cousin Roselyn had the ladies organized into some sort of ridiculous tableau imitating one of the many paintings on the wall at one end of the room. Miss Wendine Sewett appeared to be the unwilling centerpiece of the tableau, judging by her furious scowl. The ladies had draped a curtain around her and placed a garland of flowers on her head in imitation of the painting of the goddess Diana hanging above them. At the other end of the room, Thomas, Lord Whitemarsh, and several of his male cousins were enjoying the spectacle the ladies presented.
They all noticed Trent and Charlotte when they walked into the room.
“You’ve brought the fortune teller back,” Roselyn exclaimed with glee, breaking away from Miss Sewett. “How wonderful.”
Miss Sewett tried to escape, but Hattie stopped her before she could get away. “You must come and read Miss Sewett’s fortune,” Hattie called across the room. “I believe she has a great love in store for her future.”
“Fuss and nonsense,” Miss Sewett growled. “I wish to retire for the evening.”
“You will not,” Roselyn said. “You will have your fortune told.”
“Hang on,” Trent said, clinging harder to Charlotte’s hand as Roselyn and Hattie came forward, looking like they would take her away. “I happen to need Miss Salazar at the moment.”
He knew in an instant he’d said the wrong thing. Hattie eyed him curiously, then narrowed her eyes at Charlotte. “You do?”
“Yes.” Trent could feel his face heating. “On a matter of some urgency.”
Hattie’s eyes narrowed further. “Surely she has time to come read Miss Sewett’s fortune,” she said sharply.
Charlotte pulled her hand out of Trent’s and rested it on his arm. “You speak to your cousin. I’m sure he will listen to you more clearly without me there.”
It was the last thing Trent wanted to do. Conducting any business without Charlotte by his side was the last thing he wanted to do for the rest of his life. But she had a point. Men responded differently when only men were present.
“I’ll tell him what I know,” he said. “When I’m done, we’ll reconvene and decide what to do next.”
He spoke quietly, but Hattie arched a curious eyebrow as she eavesdropped. Trent wanted to kiss Charlotte as they parted, but he could see in an instant that would be impossible. All he could do was walk away from her and head toward Thomas, hoping his cousin would believe what he had to say about the dark lady and that he and Charlotte would end the night together once it was all done.
Charlotte’s sense of urgency increased tenfold the moment she stepped into the palace where the McGoverns were staying. The entire family had energy and mischief pulsing around them, but woven between the threads of joviality and adventure was danger. She could feel it as palpably as the heat of Trent’s body as they stood side by side.
When Lady Roselyn and Lady Hattie dragged her away from Trent, the feeling increased yet again. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as Trent approached his cousin, Lord Thomas, and started speaking to him with a grave expression. Charlotte only just had time to notice the interest in Lord Thomas’s expression before the ladies dem
anded her full attention.
“You must read Miss Sewett,” Lady Roselyn said, guiding Charlotte to sit in an ornate chaise off to one side of the room. The unfortunate Miss Sewett—still wearing a garland of flowers, though she had managed to divest herself of the rest of her costume—was forced to sit on the chaise with her. “She wasn’t lucky enough to have her cards read last night.”
“Fortune telling is ridiculous chicanery,” Miss Sewett insisted, trying to rise and walk away.
One of the younger cousins, whose name Charlotte couldn’t remember, forced her to sit once more. “But we’re all dying to hear what the future has in store for you, Miss Sewett,” she said.
“I don’t want to know,” Miss Sewett said. She changed tactics, crossing her arms tightly and tilting her chin up as though she would close her ears and ignore everything Charlotte said.
“I’m interested in hearing what Miss Salazar has to say,” Lady Hattie said, though her expression was far more serious than those of her cousins, and she stared hard at Charlotte instead of giggling at Miss Sewett.
“How is Miss Salazar supposed to predict Miss Sewett’s future without her crystal ball or cards?” another of the young cousins—who limped over to the chaise with the use of crutches, one of her feet lifted and sticking out from the hem of her skirt.
“Well, that’s that, then,” Miss Sewett said dismissively, trying to stand.
“Miss Salazar doesn’t need those things to tell a fortune, do you, Miss Salazar?” Lady Roselyn asked. “You could read her palm or something.”
The whole thing was turning ridiculous. Charlotte was under no illusion as to what people thought of her talents, but she had never liked being taunted. “I don’t need any of those things,” she said, doing her best to sit with her back straight and project an aura of mystery, with or without the accoutrements of her trade.
“Ridiculousness,” Miss Sewett muttered under her breath.
Charlotte was on the verge of making something up that would satisfy the silliness of the female McGoverns, but when she glanced at Miss Sewett, something caught her eye. Or rather, something touched a raw nerve within her. The danger she’d felt pulsing through the house since the moment she and Trent arrived was coming from Miss Sewett.
“You’re keeping secrets,” she said, speaking before she could think. She narrowed her eyes and tried to get a better feeling for what the woman was about. “You know more than you let on. The danger that this family faces is centered within you.”
The McGovern ladies laughed as though they had known the same thing for years. They saw it as a joke. Miss Sewett, on the other hand, went pale.
“You hold in your hand the power to destroy or the power to save,” Charlotte went on. “You will be called on to do both, and soon.”
Miss Sewett stared at her with unblinking eyes. “This is foolishness,” she said, though without any conviction in her words. She knew as well as Charlotte that Charlotte spoke the truth.
“You must ask yourself,” Charlotte went on, lowering her voice to speak only to Miss Sewett. “When the time comes, will you save yourself or will you save the family?”
“I….” Miss Sewett’s mouth hung open and her eyes grew wide, as though Charlotte had accused her of something.
“Miss Sewett will save herself,” Lady Hattie interrupted with a laugh. “We all know that.” Before Charlotte could say anything or Miss Sewett could do more than gape, Lady Hattie took a seat on the chaise, blocking Miss Sewett from Charlotte’s view. “I have a question for Miss Salazar.”
“You had your turn last night,” Lady Roselyn laughed.
Miss Sewett stood and hurried out of the room. No one seemed to notice, much less stop her.
Lady Hattie went on, staring keenly at Charlotte. “I want to know what Miss Salazar’s intentions toward my brother are.” She arched one eyebrow in challenge.
It was Charlotte’s turn to sputter and blush. “I…I believe that is up to your brother,” she managed to answer, glancing down.
Lady Hattie hummed as if unconvinced. “My brother is a good and tender soul,” she said, clipping her words. “Too generous for his own good.” She emphasized the word as though Charlotte were after Trent’s money. “I won’t stand for anyone, no matter how pretty, toying with his affections for nefarious reasons.”
“I can assure you, I am doing nothing of the sort,” Charlotte murmured. She shouldn’t be intimidated by Lady Hattie. It was clear that the woman was merely looking out for the best interests of her beloved brother. But Lady Hattie was everything Charlotte wasn’t—titled, sophisticated, and wealthy. She was all the reasons that Charlotte and Trent could never be together.
“Trent is entitled to have a bit of fun if he wants to,” Lady Roselyn reasoned, glancing to Lady Hattie as though she would argue with her. “We are on holiday, after all.”
Lady Hattie sent her cousin a look as though she were naïve. “Trent is not the sort to have a dalliance.” She turned back to Charlotte. “Which is why I find it suspicious that the two of you arrived here holding hands.” She arched one brow again in question.
“I am very fond of your brother,” Charlotte said, growing more self-conscious by the moment.
There was no way to explain to the defensive ladies around her that she wasn’t the sort to throw herself at every man who smiled at her. There was no way she could explain that she felt she had known Trent through a hundred lifetimes and would know him through a hundred more. And there was even less of a way for her to explain the twist of circumstance that had brought them together without mentioning Lord Addlebury and the danger he was in. She didn’t know if the female McGoverns knew anything about that, and if they didn’t it wasn’t her place to say anything.
“Your brother is a wonderful man,” she said at last, though the words were inadequate to explain everything she felt for him.
“Yes, he is,” Lady Hattie said, studying Charlotte suspiciously. “I love him dearly, and I will not allow him to be taken advantage of.”
“I have no intention of hurting him in any way,” Charlotte said, holding her head up high. It was the truth, even if Lady Hattie didn’t want to see it that way.
“As long as we understand one another,” Lady Hattie said.
“I’m afraid we do.” Charlotte stole a glance across the room to Trent. He was deep in discussion with Lord Thomas and two other men. Whatever they were discussing, it was clear the other men took the matter seriously. Trent had succeeded in reporting what they had discovered about the dark lady that morning, Charlotte was certain. Which meant that her need to be there was over.
She stood, careful to maintain an air of deference as the titled ladies watched her. “I will go now,” she said, glancing from Lady Roselyn to Lady Hattie. “Thank you for the kindness you have shown me.”
She stepped away before the ladies could say anything to her. Charlotte doubted they would ask her to stay after the exchange they’d had, but she didn’t want to linger long enough to be told off again. She was a fool to think things would be as easy as love and fate between her and Trent. The same thing that had happened to her mother and father was bound to happen with them. There was simply no way a lord like Trent would be able to be with a nobody like her. It would be best for everyone if she moved on with her life as it was, instead of dreaming that it could become something else.
Chapter 6
She was gone. She’d disappeared under his nose. Trent stormed through the halls of the palace two days after bringing Charlotte there to help him confront Asher, unsure whether he was more angry or sad. He’d turned his back on Charlotte for five minutes to speak with Thomas, and when the conversation finally wrapped up, all anyone could tell him was that Charlotte had left.
The worst part was that his conversation with Thomas ended up being useless. Thomas was as concerned as he was about Asher’s odd behavior, but Asher had successfully shut his own brother out over the course of their journey.
“He
won’t speak to me about anything,” Thomas had said with a restless shrug. “I know he’s tied up in something, but every time I approach him about it, he changes the subject.”
Thomas had only grown alarmed when Trent told him about the dark lady, the cipher coin, and the chase through the streets of Venice. They’d agreed to keep an eye on Asher, and Thomas said he’d double his efforts to get his brother to confide in him, but that was where their ability to take any sort of action ended.
Trent had walked away from the conversation feeling as though he’d taken one step forward and two steps back. He’d gone in search of Charlotte only to be told she’d told Miss Sewett’s fortune then gone home.
“I would stay away from a woman like that, if I were you, my lord,” Miss Sewett told him when Trent pressed her about what Charlotte had predicted while telling her future. “Not only is she beneath you, she is tied up in dark magic.” Miss Sewett’s brow furrowed as she spoke. Trent had the uneasy feeling the indomitable chaperone knew more than she was letting on. In more ways than one. Asher had hired her, after all, and he’d kept her on, even when it was obvious that the female cousins she was supposed to be supervising didn’t like her. But the more Trent pressed Miss Sewett for information, the tighter the older woman’s lips got.
None of it made sense. The irritation of not having a clue what was going on lingered, bunching Trent’s shoulders and making his steps short and quick as he marched through the palace, searching for something he could do that would set his mind at ease. Most of his cousins had gone out for gondola rides through the city or were shopping at various plazas. The palace itself was quiet, but with the sort of stillness that preceded a storm.
Which was why he jumped when Hattie stepped out of one of the parlors he passed and said, “You must stop pacing or you’ll wear a rut in the marble.”
