“Why does he merit such loyalty?”
“Ah, ’tis a long story and one that is not, I think, suitable for your innocent ears.”
“If you will not tell me, Joseph, then I shall simply have to ask the earl.”
The petulance in her voice amused him. “That is your prerogative, madonna. As for his lordship”—he shrugged—“it will also be his prerogative to choose to tell you about it.”
She frowned at him, but said no more. They secured the sloop at the dock and walked back to the villa.
She left Joseph at the front gates with the boy, Sordello, who openly worshiped the older man, and made her way to the gardens.
Chapter 15
Cassie sat before her dressing table, clad in her petticoats and wrapper. Rosina stood behind her, powder box in hand, on the point of sprinkling her golden hair when the earl’s voice stopped her.
“No, Rosina,” he said, walking with negligent grace to stand behind Cassie. “I do not wish for you to powder your mistress’s hair. A classical style, I think, but no white powder to hide her natural color.”
Cassie, who had herself been looking balefully at the powder box, turned in her chair and said sharply, in English, “Do you wish to direct everything that I do, my lord? Must you even interrupt me with orders whilst I am dressing?”
He allowed a black brow to wing upward in surprise. “I happen to know, cara, that you have no liking for the powder box. I thought you instructed Rosina to apply it simply because you believed it would please me.”
Cassie did not bother to respond, for she had turned around in her chair, and was distracted by the sight of him. He looked resplendent in his rich black velvet evening clothes. Layers of frothy white lace fell from his throat and wrists, and his black hair was powdered white as his lace and pulled back at the nape of his neck, held with a black velvet ribbon. Even to her jaundiced eye, he looked like a king.
“I am delighted that you approve my appearance, Cassandra.”
“You are passable, I suppose,” she said, and turned back to her mirror.
He seated himself near her, crossing one elegant leg over the other, and watched Rosina deftly style her hair into a braided coronet atop her head, through which she drew out a long thick tress. When at last Cassie was dressed in a low, square-necked lavender silk gown, he rose gracefully and drew a long, flat box from his waistcoat pocket.
“You may leave now, Rosina,” he said to the maid. “I shall complete your mistress’s toilette.”
“What do you mean, my lord?” Cassie asked warily after her maid had left the bedchamber. He answered her by withdrawing a long rope of pearls, lustrous and exquisitely matched. Before she could respond, he doubled the string of pearls and fastened the clasp at the back of her neck.
She stared at her image in the mirror for a long moment, and drew a resolute breath, her fingers touching the clasp. “They are lovely, my lord, but I must refuse them. I will not be bought.”
He said lightly, his hand closing over her fingers, “Nay, cara, they are not for you to refuse, for I have not offered them to you. I do not seek to buy you, simply to enhance your beauty. You will, of course, return them to me at the close of the evening.”
“I would rather wear nothing.”
“The gentlemen present this evening would be much pleased, I doubt not. However, I would prefer to have them only guess at what lies beneath your gown.”
“You wretched man, that is not what I meant, and well you know it.”
“Guilty,” he said with a quick smile. “I do apologize for teasing you, Cassandra. Would you do me the great honor of wearing the pearls, just for this evening?”
She regarded him suspiciously for several moments, but as the expression on his face remained serious, and indeed, he appeared to be contrite, she slowly nodded. “Very well, but only for tonight.” She added with ill-concealed bitterness, “I suppose that if I must be put on display, it is only fitting that I look the part of the expensive harlot.”
His thick black brows drew together. “I have told you, Cassandra, that it is not you on display this evening. My friends are here for your inspection. I would not hold this dinner party if I thought you would be slighted.”
“No, I do not suppose that you would.” She sighed. “It would make no sense. However, you will admit that my perceived position at the Villa Parese is not enviable.”
“And you will keep your promise?”
“You mean that I am not to stand upon the dinner table and shout to your guests that I am your prisoner?”
“Precisely.”
“Is it time to go downstairs, my lord?” As he made no reply, she added lightly, “You have more promises to wring out of me? Take care, my lord, it was but one sailboat that you gave me.”
He smiled and shook his head. “No, little one, no more promises. There is, however, something I should tell you. One of our guests this evening will be the Contessa Giovanna Giusti. I did not particularly wish to invite her, but Signore Montalto, a close friend and business associate, is much enamored of her and very much wanted her company.”
“Are you concerned that I will be rude to the contessa?”
“It is not your propriety that concerns me. If you would know the truth, the contessa was once my mistress. I of course broke off our affair before I left for England.”
“Your mistress?”
The earl smiled, clasped her arms in his hands, and dropped a light kiss upon her closed lips. “Yes, but she needn’t concern you. I only tell you to give you fair warning that Giovanna might not be all that is pleasant.”
“Thank you, my lord, for the warning.” Her voice was clipped and flat, and he wondered what the devil she was thinking. He drew her hand through his arm and escorted her from the bedchamber. To lighten her mood, he said, “Caesare will of course be here. You will, I trust, enjoy his company.”
“Of a certainty I shall, my lord,” she said, but her voice was cold.
He continued in a gently teasing voice, “To keep you at ease and help you to remember your promise, I will contrive to stay at your side throughout the evening.”
“That, I daresay, is wise of you.”
There was laughter in her voice, and he relaxed. As he walked beside her down the wide stairway, he looked down at the creamy pearls about her throat. The pearls had belonged first to his grandmother, then to his mother. They were bride’s pearls, the only jewelry allowed to a young lady before and during her first year of marriage.
Once downstairs, the earl nodded in satisfaction to Scargill, who was dressed in butler’s wear, and surrounded by three young male servants hired for the evening.
“Don’t look so pained, Scargill,” the earl said. “All of us must occasionally make sacrifices.” At Scargill’s grunt, he added with a wide smile, “Just ensure that your men keep the wine flowing, and your success is assured.”
Cassie gazed about her with pleasure. Fresh flowers overflowed from vases that lined the walls of the wide entrance hall, and branches of candles had been added, making the villa as dazzling bright as if it were day.
The knocker sounded loudly, and Scargill motioned one of the footmen to the door.
“It would appear, my lord, that you have approached this evening with quite a flair,” Cassie said behind her hand as the wide front doors swung open to admit Caesare.
“I hoped that you would approve, cara. Ah, my dear brother, you are a vision to behold.” He pumped Caesare’s outstretched hand.
“As ever, Antonio, it must be I to carry on the Parese tradition of elegance. Ah, but you are the vision, Cassandra, not I,” he said, his eyes resting a moment on the pearls. “Antonio, expect all the gentlemen tonight to yearn for your imminent demise.”
The earl laughed. “I trust that you will protect me, Caesare.”
“Nay, dear brother,” Caesare said, “I shall be the one to head the list.” He turned to Cassie. “You know, of course, that any party given by the earl is a topic of conv
ersation days in advance.”
Cassie raised her eyes from his bright plum velvet evening wear to the frothy silver lace at his throat, and cocked her head to one side questioningly.
“What Caesare refers to, my dear,” the earl interposed, “is my English predilection for providing an abundance of food.”
“But what has that to say to anything, my lord? Of course one would provide a splendid meal for one’s guests.”
Caesare grinned, and shook his head. “Surely the earl has told you of the famous Genoese thriftiness? It extends, alas, to providing the most niggardly of refreshments to guests. Genoese society, I am persuaded, forgives my brother his half-English blood for this vagary.”
Cassie was grinning reluctantly when the earl turned to greet the newly arrived Signore Montalto, a paunchy, heavy-jowled gentleman of middle years.
“Marcello,” the earl said smoothly, “this is Signorina Brougham, the young lady I mentioned to you.”
“Enchanted, signorina,” Signore Montalto said, bowing with some difficulty.
Cassie inclined her head and bid him welcome. His almond eyes flitted an unasked question toward the earl. As Cassie’s attention was drawn by Caesare to Signore and Signora Accorambonis, she did not see it.
“How delightful to meet you, signorina,” Signora Accorambonis said in a pleasant voice. “We so rarely have new faces in Genoa. I do hope that you enjoy our city.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Cassie said ambiguously, knowing the earl was listening. She was aware that Signora Accorambonis was scrutinizing her from beneath her heavy eyelids, and stiffened for an instant. But she could not fault the lady, for she could well imagine how a foreign lady, living unmarried with an English gentleman, would be treated by the English aristocracy.
The wizened Signore Accorambonis was all complaisance. By the time all the guests had arrived and the earl and Cassie had made their welcomes, Cassie firmly on his arm, she was forced to admit that the earl seemed to have chosen his guests well.
She grinned crookedly at the earl when Scargill entered the brightly lit drawing room and announced dinner in the most formal voice she had ever heard from him.
The earl guided her firmly to the foot of the long table in the dining room and seated her himself. He gave her arm a slight squeeze before walking to the master’s place at the head of the table. She gazed down the expanse of table at him, but he merely smiled at her reassuringly. She stole a look at their guests, fourteen in all, and found to her amusement that the heavily laden table was the focus of their attention. Seated at her left was Caesare and to her right, a Signora Bianca Piasi, a young woman as vivacious as she was lovely.
“I see that you have decided to stay with us, signorina,” Signora Piasi said, her fork already in her hand, hovering over an abundant portion of braised pheasant.
Cassie could not understand how Signora Piasi saw anything of the sort, but she merely smiled and said lightly, “Everyone is very kind, signora.”
When Signora Piasi gave her attention to her plate, Cassie turned to Caesare, who was regarding her, a strange expression in his eyes.
“Whatever is the matter?” she asked him. “Have I gravy on my chin or wine spots on my gown?”
His expression changed instantly. He cocked his head at her and said in an amused voice, “You have nothing untoward on your person, Cassandra. I have observed that you are quite the success this evening.”
Cassie said, “I think it is all because of my ghastly accent. People find me an amusing oddity.”
“I think not,” he said.
Caesare’s conversation floated over Cassie’s head some minutes later as she gazed around the table. Save for the fact that everyone spoke Italian, she could see little differences between the manners of Genoese aristocracy and the English. Perhaps laughter was freer, she quickly amended to herself, and certainly their guests very much needed their hands to emphasize their conversation. Her eyes stopped at the Contessa Giovanna Giusti, seated toward the middle of the table, Signore Montalto at her side. She was undeniably alluring, and a center of gaiety. Cassie had only spoken a few words to the beautiful contessa, for she was the last guest to arrive. The contessa had looked at her closely, and turned abruptly away.
“Cassandra, you have not heard a word I’ve said.”
“Do forgive me, Caesare. Much here is new to me.”
He gave her a look of mock reproof. “And here I was telling you about Genoese velvet, and how some Genoese ladies adore its quality to such a degree that their undergarments are also of velvet.”
“But I have never heard of such a thing.”
Some minutes later, at a signal from the earl, Cassie rose with him and led their guests back to the drawing room to enjoy more wine and cakes. After some moments, the earl drew her aside. “I hope you do not mind sharing a short business meeting with me, cara. Signore Montalto is awaiting me in the library.”
Cassie looked up at him, puzzled. “I hardly think that appropriate, my lord. Surely Signore Montalto would not expect you to bring me to your meeting.”
“I see you are too hidebound by societal rules, cara. Did I not promise not to leave you alone this evening?”
“I suppose so, my lord,” she said doubtfully.
“A bit more enthusiasm, if you please,” he said, and opened the thick double doors to the library. He stepped back to allow Cassie to precede him.
Signore Montalto looked up from his chair, clearly startled. He looked to the earl, expecting him to peremptorily dismiss the girl. But the earl appeared unperturbed at Signore Montalto’s stiff countenance, and planted a guileless smile on his face.
“You are enjoying the party, I trust, Marcello,” he said easily. “You, of course, have made the acquaintance of Signorina Brougham.”
Signore Montalto rose ponderously from his chair and offered Cassie a stiff bow.
“You will share a glass of sherry with us, signore?” The earl added smoothly, an imp of mischief compelling him, “Marcello is here, Cassandra, to discuss a rather thorny problem with me. Perhaps you would not mind giving us your opinion.” Much to his delight, a slight smile indented the corners of her mouth, and she inclined her head in graceful assent.
“I would be delighted, my lord, to provide you whatever assistance I can.”
She graciously accepted a chair held for her by the flustered Marcello, settled her heavy skirts about her, and sipped the sherry the earl offered her.
The earl said, “It involves a Dutch shipping group trading with the southern colonies in America, which has recently suffered rather large financial losses. The losses are, unfortunately, much my concern, since I provided much of the capital. A Dutch representative has brought Marcello a proposal that he believes will pay us handsomely. You may tell la signorina, Marcello.”
Cassie turned her eyes from the earl’s sardonic expression and fastened them on Signore Montalto’s heavy jowled face. He seemed to struggle with himself to speak, and Cassie barely managed to suppress a grin of amusement.
“As you know, signorina,” Signore Montalto began ponderously, imagining full well that she knew nothing at all, “England’s southern colonies are exporting more cotton and tobacco by the year. Even their timber is gaining in importance as the English denude their own forests.”
Cassie tried to curb her impatience at his condescending tone. “Your point, signore?”
Signore Montalto tugged uncomfortably at his black waistcoat. “The Dutch trade has been primarily with the West Indies. Pirates and Caribbean storms have brought them—and his lordship—substantial losses, and thus, their recent shift to trade with the colonies.”
“A logical course, it would seem to me, signore.”
“Ah, but there is more, Cassandra.” The earl waved Marcello to continue. Cassie was aware that the earl was regarding her intently, and she grew more alert.
“For every cause, there is an effect,” Marcello said grandly. “The southern colonists have constant need of
labor for their cotton and tobacco plantations. The Dutch proposal, a proposal, I might add, that meets with my approval, is simply to capture African savages, transport them to the colonies and sell them to the plantation owners. Immediately, there is a sizable profit. Cotton, tobacco, and timber could be brought back to England and Europe, and thus the profit is doubled.”
“I am not certain that I understand, signore,” Cassie said. “You believe that we should encourage, through our financial backing, the capture of people to be sold as slaves in a foreign country?”
“People,” Marcello scoffed. “They are naught but savages, dear lady. Their only value is that they breed at an appalling rate and work well in the fields.”
“And how does one go about capturing these savages, signore? Are they trapped?”
“Oh no,” Marcello hastened to correct her, “trapping would mutilate them and lessen their value at auction. They are like children, signorina, and can be herded together quite readily with but one musket shot over their heads.”
“How odd it is that you now liken them to children. If it is true that they live in a state of primitive innocence, like children, then they should be protected from predators.”
“Perhaps calling them ‘children’ was unfortunate,” Marcello ground out. He shot a silent plea toward the earl, but received only an ironic smile.
“Everyone buys and sells these black beggars. Even the Church is not certain that they have souls.”
“And, of course, they do not speak the civilized Italian tongue, do they, signore?”
“No, ’tis gibberish they utter. One can make no sense of them at all.”
Cassie slowly rose from her chair. As Signore Montalto was not a tall man, she was very nearly at his eye level. “So it is your proposal, signore, that we should agree to the capture and sale of innocent men and women to fatten our coffers.”
“I have told you, signorina, that they are animals, uncivilized savages.”
“It is very curious, you know,” Cassie said. “I was very near to believing that the Italians held no claim to civilization, since they do not speak the English tongue and do such barbaric things as locking their female children away in convents. But look how very wrong I was.”