A Lady’s Secret (14 page)

“Stubborn again.”

“Persistent again. But it will do you no good.”

“If your father is vile, you will do what?”

Go to a convent
, but that part of the plan was no use. For the first time Petra realized what poor options she might have.

“Petra, I will compel you to nothing except to remain within my protection until you find some other. Anything else would be madness.”

Petra controlled her fear and anger. He couldn’t prevent her leaving him if she was resolute, any more than Cesare and Ludo had been able to stop her leaving Milan.

He consulted a gold pocket watch. “We have time. Complete your story. You were in danger of being torn from the convent. I’m astonished that the Church would allow it.”

“The Community of Saint Veronica is not exactly a convent. The order’s ancient mission is to offer aid in the street, which they cannot do when living in cloister. They exist by the tolerance of the archbishop, but he, alas, is a Morcini, a member of Ludo’s family. Pressure was applied—return me to my family, or cloister would be imposed, ruining our work.

“Mother Superior stalled him with talk of my being prostrate with grief because of my mother’s death, but we had to act immediately. To cross Europe alone, however, that was impossible. Then we heard about this Lady Sodworth, who was about to journey home and was making a great fuss about it. We asked her to escort me to a convent in England, tempting her with free service. She swallowed it whole, and even agreed to keep the arrangement secret. I slipped out and joined her party just before she left the city. I hoped it would be a long time before Ludovico realized I had left, and that then he would give up his folly.”

“How long since you left Milan. A month?”

“A little under,” she said, disturbed. “But…”

“He’ll have learned about your absence fairly quickly. As you implied, there would be spies in the convent. But would he really send men after you?”

“You don’t believe me?” She threw her hands up.

“It’s insane, I know it! That’s why I’ve said nothing, why I was reluctant to speak now. My mind is clearly disordered by my ordeal. Il conte di Purieri has probably washed his hands of me and no one in the world cares where Petra d’Averio has gone.”

“Let’s assume your lover’s hunting dog did track you to Abbeville.”

“Hunting cur,” Petra corrected with satisfaction.

“No. Curs are vile, and one merely shoots them. This, I assume, is a dangerous beast.”

“How could you know what sort of man Varzi is?”

“Because you fear him, and il conte di Purieri employs him. What sort of man is
he
?”

“Ludovico? Hotheaded, spoiled, and unable to accept rejection. Ever. Once I found his arrogance thrilling.”

“Alas, for we more modest men.”

“This is no time for jokes.”

“Even the darkest dramas demand humor. Otherwise we embrace hell. So, let’s assume Purieri did send Varzi after you. He’d soon discover you’d left with Lady Sodworth and followed her trail. Not a difficult one, with the Berlin, the children, and the screeching, so he’s confident and plays a little game. Would he do that?”

“If it were a cruel one, yes.”

“He comes up close behind you and then travels ahead to Abbeville and stations himself in the street where you will see him. Thus he throws you into terror for a while before snatching you away. How he must have relished that.”

“But instead I left with you,” she said, smiling as she savored that. “I wish I’d been able to see his reaction when he realized.”

“I wish I could grant your wish. Let’s see, what does he do then? Wastes some time searching the inn. Perhaps searches the town, inquires at any convents. By the time he suspects you’ve traveled on, the storm is too close. He’s furious, but still sure of his quarry. He knows your destination.”

“How?” she asked, but then answered herself. “Because I went with Lady Sodworth, thus I am en route to England.” She stood. “He could be here now. We must leave!”

“We’re as safe here as in the Tower. The danger will be on the road. He could hold up the chaise and steal you, or think he could. I assume he doesn’t work alone.”

“No.”

“So tell me more about him. He is formidable?”

“Oh yes. How to explain? Politics and intrigue in Milan are treacherous. Currently it is ruled from Vienna, but the old families vie for power. Despite regulations, they all have their private armies, their spies, and their…ruthless ones. The ones who will make people disappear, or return, or who will torture information out of them. The Morcini have Varzi.”

“What does he look like?”

“If I were to point him out to you, you’d think me demented. He’s quite old now, at least fifty, and round. He has beard-darkened jowls and a rather sorrowful look, and he dresses like a shopkeeper. His hair is grizzled and thin, but he never wears a wig. He simply ties it back.”

“I’m sure he finds it useful to appear harmless. I assume his henchmen are a little more frightening?”

“Yes, but when I think about it, they, too, don’t draw excessive attention.”

“A clever and effective man.”

“It’s as if you admire him.”

“I appreciate people who are good at what they do.”

“You won’t if he catches us. His men will kill you.”

“At least you’ll be safe. Your Ludovico won’t want the treasure returned damaged.”

“There are ways to hurt that leave few marks.”

“And others that would heal in the time it takes to travel to Milan,” he agreed soberly. “We’d better stay one step ahead. He’ll have to assume you’ve found a way to travel on to Boulogne or Calais. If you’re in Abbeville, you see, he can return and search. But if you’ve found a way to go on, you could reach England, and there you could disappear.”

Petra muttered a curse.

Robin smiled. “I think that’s where we came in. ‘She wooed me with a curse,/And it’s gone bad to worse….”’

“Stop that!”

He raised a hand. “Ignore my whimsy. How bad would it be for Varzi if you reach England? Very bad. If your secret really is a secret, they have no idea where you will go.”

“Also, we hoped they would assume another destination there.”

“What?”

Another piece of information, but Petra surrendered it. “My mother had a friend. A Venetian opera singer. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say my mother was her patron, but they were friends when young and have corresponded. She is now in London. If all else fails, I am to go to her, but my mother warned that she is not respectable and also not reliable. Not to be trusted with secrets.”

“Who is this woman?”

“Teresa Imer, Signora Pompeati. But I understand that in England she is known as Mistress Cornelys.”

He laughed in disbelief. “You know Teresa Cornelys?”

“You do?” Petra asked, equally surprised.

“My dear, the whole world knows Cornelys. Her Venetian assemblies are all the rage. But your mother was right. That’s not a nest for you. If signor Varzi believes you are going there, however, it could be a useful distraction.”

“I’m hoping he won’t follow me to England at all.”

“That, like a rat, he won’t cross water? Don’t count on it. But once there, he won’t have a clear trail to follow, and we have many more resources.”

Petra was thinking. “He’ll know I’m with you, and your name. Perhaps—”

“No,” he said, before she could complete her suggestion of separating. “How can he know?”

“Lady Sodworth. If he asks for news along the road, he’ll hear about her behavior in Nouvion, probably including her attempt to drag me away.”

“My turn to curse. Very unfortunate, but we only have to be careful. The wreck was probably fortunate, you know. He might have been hurrying after, intending to seize you on the road, but that created too much congestion. Perhaps your prayers are answered, after all.”

“I hope so. How are we to prevent him from attacking us between here and Boulogne?”

“I’ll think of something. I wonder if he’s here now. I’d like a word with signor Varzi.”

Petra rose and leaned forward, hands on table. “You want
nothing
to do with signor Varzi. He’s dangerous, I tell you. He and his men. Beautiful eyes and dimples won’t impress them.”

“My eyes again. You really do adore them, don’t you?”

Petra straightened, throwing her hands up. “Why you? Why did you have to be the person leaving Abbeville?”

“Perhaps it’s destiny.”

She swung and stormed to the window to look out, to search for Varzi, to try to think what to do.

“I’d stand back a little. If he’s out there, better that he not see you.”

Petra stepped back and to the side, but tears stung her eyes. Varzi might be here, and this idiot was going to get himself killed with his overconfidence and flippancy. “Is there a public coach? He couldn’t hold up a public coach.”

“You may not leave me until you’re safe. Trust me.”

She whirled, but he was at the door, shouting for a servant. One came running and was sent for Powick and Fontaine. When the men came, Robin said, “Danger. Fontaine, get the pistols and my sword and bring them here. Powick, find what parties are nearly ready to set out. We want company on the road.”

Both men looked surprised but asked no questions. In minutes, Fontaine was back. Robin checked both pistols. Petra watched, frustrated but reluctantly impressed, remembering the pale warrior who’d emerged at Mère Goulart’s. Yes, like a butterfly out of a cocoon of whimsy. But then again, his butterfly dog was prancing around as if this were all a game.

Powick came back quickly. “Two naval officers are about to leave, sir. Same ones as was at the wreck. And there’s a French couple in a coach. Saw no sign of anyone of this Varzi’s appearance.”

“Right. Tell those parties that there’s rumor of brigands on the road and suggest we travel together. Fontaine, get my jewel box.”

When both men had gone, Petra said, “You think to bribe Varzi with a trinket? It will not work.”

“Of course not.”

She gave up trying to make sense of him. “If we make it safely to Boulogne, what then?”

“If Varzi is the sort of man I believe he is, he’ll not want to attract attention by open violence in a town.”

“But he will definitely want to stop me boarding the ship.”

“That’s his dilemma. You will be well guarded in a locked room while I hire a private vessel with a trustworthy crew. Getting you from room to vessel will be the most difficult part, but I’ll hire extra guards if necessary.”

Petra gaped at him. She had to admit that his plans sounded effective. Except for jewelry. What on earth could he want with jewelry at a time like this?

The valet returned with a plain, cloth-covered box. Robin unlocked it and raised the lid to reveal the spines of very old books. Had she misunderstood? He took out the end volume on the left and opened it to reveal a tray of glitter. “Nothing truly suitable for a lady,” he said, “but I think these will do.” He took out a pin and a brooch.

Petra backed away. “I will take no gifts from you.”

“My dearest Petra, if I try to buy your body, I won’t insult you with trinkets.” He showed her a cravat pin headed with seed pearls and a pale green stone, and a cameo brooch of a bird. “We’re about to travel in company, and you are my sister. The gown is not of the best quality, but some ornaments will help.”

He fixed the pin in the center of her bodice, slipping his fingers behind the cloth before she realized his intention and had a chance to object. By the time she pushed at him, he was already stepping back. “You have a hat?”

Breasts still tingling from that casual contact, she wanted to deny it on principle, but went into her room to find it. It lay on the bed beside plain stockings and garters. Simple black shoes sat on the floor. “Wait a moment,” she called, and sat to pull on the first stocking, tying it above her knee.

She sensed something and looked up. “Go away!”

He smiled. “I’m on guard. Varzi might sneak in here.”

“Look at the door, then, rather than at my legs.” He did, and she quickly pulled on the second. “You’re peeping.” She couldn’t make it serious, however, and he grinned at her.

She stood, shaking her skirts back into line, and slipped on the shoes. “A little loose, but they’ll do.”

“Then you stand guard while I improve your hat.”

She took the pistol and watched as he pinned the brooch into the knot of ribbons.

“There, rather stylish, don’t you think?”

She exchanged pistol for hat and tried it on. It came with its own plain hat pin to fix it to the cap, and settled securely enough. “It will do,” she said, and returned to the parlor, aware of the flirtatious ribbons fluttering behind. Oh, for the sobriety of her habit. Being in a bedroom with Robin Bonchurch in this mood was more than her nerves could bear.

She looked at his jewelry box. “Wouldn’t a thief check the books?”

He slid the “book” back in place and said, “Play the thief.”

Petra tried to remove the book, but couldn’t get a finger around it anywhere. She tried other books and one, a slightly smaller one, did come out. She opened it triumphantly—to find browned, musty pages and a heavy, old style of print.

That useless success didn’t help her get any others out, because they each had their slot. “Very well,” she said, returning the book, “unless you encounter a book thief.”

“That,” he admitted, “would spoil the show.”

“How did you get that one out?”

He took her left hand. She’d have resisted except that she’d asked to know. He put her fingers on the near edge of the box. “Press down lightly, then press down on the top of the spine of the book.”

She did so, choosing the third book in from the left. It sprang up a little, but she still couldn’t pull it out.

“Release the pressure with your hand.”

When she did that, the book surrendered and she could draw it out. She opened it and gasped. She knew jewels, she’d worn jewels, but these were extraordinary. There was a set of buttons, each centered by a large sapphire and surrounded by diamonds and pearls. In the center of the tray sat a spray of flowers formed entirely of brilliantly cut jewels.