Larcenous Lady Page 11

  Carlotta joined him at the window, her arm carelessly around his waist. “Unless there was someone there to catch her,” she said.

  “That must be it. Claude was there waiting for her. But why did she bother stopping here?”

  “Perhaps Claude knows the purpose of a bed,” the contessa said. Her voice was becoming just a trifle thin.

  “Elvira came alone—she could hardly wait at the docks. This must have been where she waited for him,” Belami thought out loud.

  “Now are we finished with business?” As Carlotta spoke, Belami felt her body rubbing seductively against his. Her gown was open to the waist, revealing sights that took his mind from business.

  “Yes, we might as well go.”

  “The room is paid for. Two rooms—it seems a waste.”

  Dick cupped her upturned face in his hands. “You’re a beautiful woman, Carlotta. If I weren’t engaged—”

  “She’ll never know!”

  “Yes, she will. She has a sixth sense where I and other women are concerned. And really I don’t feel at all like—”

  Carlotta lifted his hand and kissed his fingers. “I can take care of that,” she tempted.

  “I know it very well. That’s why we’re leaving.” He buttoned up her dress.

  It was a vast relief that Carlotta sulked all the way home. She sat with her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, but Belami could feel the resentment emanating from her stiff body. Once he was assured she didn’t mean to continue seducing him, his mind was free to think of other matters.

  Elvira had gone to a great deal of trouble just for a few days with Claude. Was there more than love involved? Was it some arrangement being made to unload the false money? Was she ever coming back? That was the important question. If she didn’t, he’d lost the trail of the Jalberts entirely. There was no point wasting Réal at the Léon Bianco. He’d send him to Mestre tomorrow—and if Elvira showed up with Claude, Réal would follow him and learn where the Jalbert gang were staying. One of Carlotta’s footmen would come in handy as interpreter.

  When they landed at the palazzo, Carlotta wrapped her cape around her and strode angrily into the house without a word. Belami followed, trying to soften her up to beg the loan of a footman.

  “Carlotta,” he said softly, and put his hand on her elbow. “I’m sorry. You’ve been a perfect angel, and I’ve been a fool. I thought you understood about my engagement.”

  “You don’t have an engagement. You have a mousy provincial who doesn’t think enough of you to marry you. The duchessa has no intention of allowing this match. If you ever hope to marry that chit, you’ll have to carry her off by main force—to some inn, where you will paralyze her with boredom while you look in closets and under beds. I had heard the inglese were cold, but not that they were frozen. Buona notte, signore.”

  “Things are different in England,” he said simply.

  Carlotta looked at him with rising interest. Belami was much more conciliating than he’d been earlier. “You are not in England now. When in Rome—and when in Venice also—”

  “I’m just a tourist.”

  “Then you must enjoy the sights while you are here.” She looked an invitation from her sultry eyes. “One of the more interesting sights will be on display in my chamber, in about five minutes.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be expecting you,” Carlotta said, and fled upstairs to prepare for her visitor.

  For the contessa, love was a battle; sex her weapon. Men had all the advantages of superior physical strength, wealth, and education, but God in his wisdom had hobbled them with one fatal weakness—lust. Belami would come, and before he left the room, he would have promised to redeem her diamonds from the pawn shop.

  Guy was becoming tiresome about the Ginnasi diamonds. His latest request sounded very much like an order. “You will wear the diamonds at my masquerade ball,” he had said. “The duchessa would like to see them.” Diamonds could not be at the jeweler’s forever, having a clasp fixed.

  Carlotta called her woman and made a grand toilette.

  She knew virginal white was not her color. For gentlemen, she was the fantasy temptress. She wore assorted wisps of black lace that allowed tantalizing glimpses of white velvet skin to show beneath. Her black hair was carefully tousled to add a note of abandon. Perfume scented the air, and in far corners of her elaborate chamber, dim lamps burned. When all was ready, she dismissed her servant and arranged herself on the counterpane. Then she waited. And waited. And waited.

  While she waited, Belami went to his room and undressed. It was demmed uncomfortable, having to offend your hostess. An offended Carlotta might make any amount of mischief. For openers, she’d be rude as only a clever street urchin could be to the duchess and Deirdre.

  He wouldn’t bother asking Carlotta for the loan of the footman. He really should go to her and explain though. Money was the best explanation. He opened his metal box and picked up a handful of gold coins. With them in the pocket of his dressing gown, he went softly to her room and tapped at the door.

  Carlotta called “Come in,” and he slowly opened the door. His heart sank to see her elaborate preparations. She patted the counterpane beside her and said in a pouting way, “It took you long enough, caro.”

  * * * *

  When Deirdre went upstairs with her aunt, she had no intention of remaining there, but getting away was extremely difficult. The duchess had a sharp nose for trouble, and knew by Deirdre’s restless roaming around the chamber that she was planning some foolishness.

  “Come and sit with me while I eat this snack,” the duchess ordered. She cast a greedy eye over the plate. The ham was tasty but very thinly sliced. The bread, however, was excellent. So light and fluffy she could eat twice the amount on the plate. Green grapes and cheese completed the repast. With a glass of Ginnasi’s red wine, it made a fitting dessert.

  “Would you like me to get you your sleeping powder now?” Deirdre asked, when the plate was empty.

  The duchess shot a gimlet glance at her. “Not tonight, dear. The wine will work as well. It works a little slower, of course.” The duchess had another glass.

  With her stomach full, she became expansive. “You may leave now, Deirdre,” she decided. Then on an afterthought she added, “I’ll look in to say good night after I’ve read a few chapters of Udolpho.” She had no intention of doing it, but the threat would keep Deirdre in her room.

  Deirdre left, and the duchess drew a luxurious sigh, called Haskins to prepare her for bed, took her glass of laudanum, and was soon snoring.

  Deirdre paced her room, waiting for the visit. She spent half the time at the door, listening for sounds of Dick and Carlotta coming upstairs. After three-quarters of an hour they had still not come. She tiptoed down the hall to her aunt’s room, quietly opened the door, and saw exactly what she expected to see.

  The room was dark, and in the gloom the stertorous sounds of the sleeping duchess rent the air. Within minutes, Deirdre was downstairs, prowling the saloons. All the lights had been extinguished and the servants had retired. An eerie, pale moon washed the rooms in silvery light.

  They had gone out together. She knew it as surely as she knew what they were doing. The only question was where. She went out the palazzo door, down to the landing. The gondola was gone.

  Her heart was as heavy as her steps when she went back inside. She remembered Carlotta’s white fingers clutching Belami’s sleeve, that silvery tinkle of laughter as she carried him off. With a weary sigh, she went into the dark saloon and sat on the sofa. She dreaded the morning, and the next morning, and the masquerade ball. She was sorry she’d come to Venice. She’d try to encourage the duchess to continue on to Rome.

  Her own reason for coming on this trip had been to forget Dick. Well, she’d forget him. She curled up on the sofa and began her forgetting by a long remembering of their rocky past, which was littered with a dozen Carlottas.

  After a while, her eyelids became heavy and sh
e fell into a doze. She was roused some hours later by a sound, but when she sat up and listened, she heard nothing. There was no clock in the room, but her mental clock told her she had been asleep for some time. She peeped out the window and saw the gondolier just coming up from the landing.

  Her instinct was to dart up to Dick’s room and demand an explanation. Of course he’d have some story ready for her. No, she wouldn’t lower herself to ask. She’d just wait a moment till everyone had settled down, then she’d go to her room. And tomorrow she’d be as cold as an iceberg when Dick came smiling around.

  She listened at the bottom of the stairs. There wasn’t a sound. She crept up to her room and quietly went in. After undressing, she lay in the darkness, staring at an invisible ceiling. Strange there were no tears. Her tears had all been shed. She felt only a searing hot anger. Sleep wouldn’t come again that night. She was wide awake when she heard the floorboards creak outside her room.

  Deirdre didn’t really think it was Dick. He’d had his bout of lechery for the night, but curiosity impelled her to go to the door and peek out. In the pitch-black hall, she couldn’t distinguish the figure. Not till the contessa’s door was opened and a wan beam of light fell on Dick’s head and shoulders did she recognize him.

  When the contessa’s door closed, she went silently into the hall, drawn to the door like a moth to light. She heard Carlotta’s soft and sultry laugh, heard the telltale clink of coins falling on the counterpane, and felt ill. She would not stand at the keyhole like a kitchen maid. She returned to her room and lit both lamps to read the guidebooks and maps. Tomorrow she must convince her aunt to leave Venice.

  At breakfast, the contessa was fall of smiles, and Dick looked as tired and troubled as Job.

  “I hope you slept well, Duchessa?” Carlotta asked. The contessa occupied her customary place at the table, spooning gruel into her husband.

  “Extremely well.” Charney grinned. “It is that excellent Ginnasi wine that accounts for it. It is better than a sleeping draught. You must allow me to buy a few hogsheads to take home with me, Conte.”

  “It doesn’t travel well,” Carlotta warned. She was familiar by now with the duchess’s meaning of the word “buy.”

  “No matter,” Charney said merrily. “Even if it goes a little off, it will be better than French wines. I insist you allow me to take some home and puff it off to my friends. You will have every ounce of it sold next year if I know anything.”

  Carlotta turned her smile to Deirdre. “Did you sleep well, Miss Gower? You look a little peaked this morning.”

  “I slept fine, thank you. The traffic in the hall hardly bothered me at all. I hope you weren’t ill, Contessa?”

  The contessa looked slowly from Miss Gower to Belami. “I never had such a good night before,” she said enigmatically.

  “I certainly slept like a top,” Belami said, with that heartiness that heralded a lie. “It’s the refreshing Venetian air that accounts for it.” A second thought cautioned him that this lie might prove troublesome. “I took the liberty of going for a cruise down the canal with your gondolier before retiring, Contessa. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “You must make yourself quite at home, Belami,” she replied. “We begrudge our guests nothing, do we, Guy?” she asked, remembering her spouse.

  “Too cold,” the conte said. This apparently referred to his gruel as Carlotta beckoned for a servant to remove it.

  After a short breakfast, Deirdre left the table with her aunt and tried her luck at getting away from the palazzo.

  “Leave today?” Charney asked, bewildered. “You forget the masquerade ball being thrown in our honor. It would be a slap in the face to leave before it takes place.’’

  “Could we not return to the Léon Bianco then?” Deirdre asked. “It would be livelier than here.”

  “I don’t know what you are about, my dear. Palazzo Ginnasi not lively? Why, the conte has a wonderful library.”

  “But it’s not in English.”

  “We didn’t undertake the expense of coming to Italy to read books in English. There is more to this fit of sulks than a dislike of Italian books,” the duchess said, and examined her niece from narrowed eyes. “Belami has shown his true colors, eh? I knew all along he was carrying on with that trollop the conte made the error of marrying. Better you should see what Belami is now than after you’re shackled to him. That alone makes the trip worthwhile. If you are unhappy with Belami, however, there is no need to see much of him. Don’t be rude, for the contessa likes him tremendously, but on the other hand, you need not go out with him. You can take my manner toward him as your guide.”

  Deirdre could think of nothing more likely to terminate Dick’s interest in her. She would do it, providing he bothered to seek her out at all.

  Chapter Ten

  When Belami came looking for Deirdre later that morning, he was met with two frosty stares. “I’m taking the gondola to Mestre this morning, Deirdre, and thought you might like to come with me. There are horses for hire there. Some exercise would do us both good.”

  “I plan to visit Lucy today,” Deirdre replied, without even looking at him. “A walk around Venice will be enough exercise. Will you come with me. Auntie?” she asked.

  “No, my dear. Take Haskins. I have promised the conte to read to him today. He likes to keep his English brushed up. Perhaps your contessa will go to Mestre with you,” the duchess suggested to Belami.

  Belami heard that “your contessa” and knew why he was being given such a chilly reception. “The contessa is making calls this morning,” he said.

  Deirdre stared coolly at him. “I am flattered that you should make me your second choice, Belami, but my plans are made. As the hotel is closer than Mestre, perhaps you would be good enough to allow me first turn at the gondola?”

  On this curt speech, she rose and strode from the room. When he heard her coming down the stairs later, he darted to the dock and was there when she arrived.

  Deirdre took one look and stopped before she reached the landing. “If you are in that great a hurry to reach Mestre, I shall wait till the boat returns,” she said.

  “I want to see Pronto. I’ll go with you, and go on from there,” Belami replied indifferently. “There’s no need for you to come, Haskins.” The servant nodded and left.

  “Very well.” Deirdre stepped into the boat and turned her head adamantly away to stare across the water, oblivious to all the charm of ancient domes and sun-dappled water. She didn’t look when she felt Belami sit beside her, but she took the precaution of removing her nearer hand. The gondolier cast off and the boat began plying toward the right bank.

  Belami decided to behave as though he had nothing to hide. “I went to Mira last night,” he said. “I spoke to the innkeeper. What Réal told me appears to be true.”

  Deirdre continued gazing silently across the water, and he plowed on. “The real reason I’m returning to Mestre is to watch out for Elvira’s return. I don’t have to go. Réal will be there, if there’s anything you’d like to do today.”

  “I don’t require your company for anything I wish to do,” Deirdre said, speaking into the wind.

  He refused to take offense. “Carlotta said she’d be happy to have the Suttons at her masquerade, if you like.”

  “I’ll mention it to them.”

  He sat silent a moment, then spoke. “Why are you acting like this?”

  “Because I’m a lady,” was her stiff reply. “Ladies don’t make scenes or use foul language. You may count yourself fortunate that I have some self-control.”

  “I think your self-control slipped a little last night! You’ve been spying on me again, Deirdre. What did you see?”

  “That it should be necessary for you to ask that question gives a good indication of your character. I saw enough to know that I want nothing more to do with you.’’

  “That’s going to be difficult when we’re staying under the same roof.”

  “Not for long if
I have anything to say about it!”

  “Whatever you saw,” he said comprehensively, “it’s not what you think.”

  “Of course not,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “The laws of nature are suspended where you’re concerned. Your creeping into her room in the middle of the night and giving her money had nothing to do with your being at Mira with her earlier.”

  “I didn’t want to get Charney turned against me. That’s the only reason I didn’t want to take you.”

  “Why did you take her?”

  “Because she speaks the language. The innkeeper would go out of his way to answer a contessa’s questions, whereas if I took a servant, he might not have given us the time of day.”

  “Or night!” she shot back.

  “Nothing happened at Mira!”

  “You must be slipping! I made sure your performance in her boudoir was an encore, not the main performance.”

  “There was no encore, and no performance.”

  “Then why did you give her money? I heard it rattle on the bed.”

  He leaped on it like a tiger. “You were spying!”

  “I was not spying! I heard such a racket in the hall I just peeped out to see if someone was ill.”

  “Stockinged feet don’t make much racket.”

  “Gentlemen who are sneaking into a lady’s bedroom in their stockinged feet and dressing gown in the middle of the night must be a little careful, I daresay.” And he still hadn’t explained why he was giving Carlotta money.

  “I was just talking to her.”

  “No, you were just paying her, Belami, and we both know why. I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses. I don’t want to see any more of you than is absolutely necessary. I don’t want to be engaged to a man I can’t trust around the corner. I want you to leave me alone. Just leave me alone. Don’t say one more word or I’ll push you into the canal.”

  “Fine!” Belami clapped his hands together and exercised great self-control to keep from shaking her. “You’re quite right that we wouldn’t suit. I couldn’t be married to a woman who doesn’t trust me.”