A Most Unconventional Courtship Page 15

  Whereas you should be concerned about how he feels about you, she told herself and this time a stab of fear found the pit of her stomach. He might be bristling at the Count, but he seemed not to be a man in love, nor even attracted, just one feeling defensive because he had seen a woman first. What do I want? What can I hope for? How could I have let myself be so carried away as to let him kiss me the second time?

  The first time, that encounter in the sea, was so outrageous as to be beyond explanation or defence. The only thing to do about it was to ignore it and hope Chance would do the same. But if he was bent on seduction, could she resist him? Oh, the wretched Count! She had thought she was ready to try to set things right between herself and Chance; now she had no idea how she felt, let alone what his intentions were.

  But walking up a steep track while making polite conversation under the observant eyes of a number of people was not the right place to be agonising about the state of one’s heart. Alessa turned to her cousin with a smile and tackled the other worry that was nagging at her.

  ‘Is your papa at home in England while you are on your travels?’

  ‘Oh, no, Papa is in Venice on some diplomatic business, to do with trade, I believe. He is with the Foreign Office.’

  ‘I am impressed; he must be both highly knowledgeable and very skilful,’ Alessa flattered. ‘But I had no idea the Foreign Office had anything to do with trade. I am very ignorant about the government, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It is all to do with piracy.’ Frances lowered her voice. ‘I am not supposed to say anything, but as you are family, I am sure it is all right to tell you.’

  ‘Piracy? Of course, these seas are notorious for it.’ Alessa pondered as they climbed, the sea sparkling blue below them and the fragrant pines and herb-covered rough ground rising on their right hand. ‘I suppose the British will use their naval power in the area to suppress it, now they have control of the Ionian islands.’

  ‘How clever you are.’ Frances sighed. ‘I really do not understand all this business about alliances and what happens in Venice, and the Papal States now Napoleon is gone, and all the other things that seem to occupy Papa. Still…’ she seemed to cheer up ‘…I am sure we will have a lovely time in Venice—after all, you and I do not have to worry about this boring diplomatic stuff.’

  Alessa thought it fascinating, and would have liked to know more, but she did not want to encourage her cousin to be indiscreet. And there was a perfectly innocuous question that was far more important to have answered. ‘How long do you expect to stay in Venice?’ she asked casually, stooping to pick thyme.

  ‘Oh, until Papa’s mission is complete—about two more months, I think—and then we will all travel back together. Still, we will have plenty to occupy us. Mama will be holding lots of parties, I expect, and I believe the shopping is excellent.’

  Two months in Venice. The only way to look at it was as an adventure; she could only hope the children would take to travel. Strange that her aunt had not mentioned their destination yet.

  Alessa looked back over her shoulder. The two older women were walking side by side, heads together in deep conversation. Helena had apparently found the ascent tiring and was perched on one of the two donkeys that a groom was leading and Maria was climbing steadily, and in apparent silence, next to Mr Harrison. As Alessa watched, she tripped and he put out a hand to steady her.

  The smile she gave him was warm and sweet and she made no attempt to free her arm, letting him hold it protectively as they walked. Ah, ha! So that is Maria’s secret. Now, what will Sir Thomas make of his secretary falling in love with his niece? And what will Lady Trevick make if it? Perhaps she already knew, although it seemed unlikely, if Maria was so secretive with her own sister.

  Alessa was still preoccupied when they came to the flat area outside the monastery gates. Chance was lying on his back under an olive tree, his straw hat tipped down over his face. The Count had cast off his jacket and was leaning against the sloping trunk of the tree, looking out over the bay. As the girls reached the terrace he straightened up, nudging Chance with his toe. ‘The first of the intrepid ladies has reached us. And what are you dreaming about with that smile on your lips, Kyria Alessa?’

  The question took her unawares and she answered without thought. ‘Love.’

  Chance sat up abruptly, his hat falling off.

  ‘You are in love? Of course you are.’ The Count’s eyes were sparkling with mischief. ‘But who is the fortunate man?’

  ‘I did not say I was in love,’ Alessa corrected with a smile. ‘I was thinking about it in the abstract.’

  ‘How can love be abstract?’ Chance stood up, stooping to retrieve his hat and clapping it on his head. Bending had made him flushed, which seemed odd for such a fit man.

  ‘Divine love,’ Miss Blackstone observed solemnly. ‘And disinterested love of one’s fellow man, those could be abstract.’

  ‘Well, by all means, let us collect ourselves in a suitably reverential frame of mind if we are to enter the monastery,’ Chance said, somewhat tartly, but Frances merely gazed at him wide-eyed, and nodded agreement.

  The Count put on his coat again and Alessa untied the shawl she had been wearing as a sash and threw it over her head and shoulders, topping it off with her straw hat. ‘I will go and ask for admission to the church and gardens.’

  When she got back, a young lay brother at her side, the rest of the party had reached the gate. The groom lifted down the provisions and tied the donkeys in the shade while the ladies fussed with shawls and hats, then the group made their way up the steps and into the monastery.

  The lay brother led them through a maze of paths, up and down steps and then into the first of the terraces of the gardens, overlooking the sea. With a shy gesture he invited them to sit and hurried off.

  ‘But how beautiful!’ Lady Blackstone was shaken out her usual calm by the vista of sparkling blue sea and craggy cliffs and islands. ‘What an exquisite place.’

  The others began to explore, exclaiming as they found view after view, and endlessly tempting nooks and benches from which to admire them. Alessa, who had visited several times, turned to help the groom set out the food they had brought and was soon joined by the lay brother, a servant at his side, with jugs of water, a pitcher of wine and a big bowl of glossy olives.

  ‘Should we pay? What would be appropriate? I do not want to cause offence.’ Chance came across as the lay brother took himself off with a smile.

  ‘An offering would be appreciated; you can leave something with the porter at the gate when we leave. And in the church, put money in the box for candles. Even if you do not choose to light one, they will do so for our safe return home.’

  She called to the others and the group clustered round the picnic, helping themselves and then finding a comfortable spot to eat. Alessa took her repast and went to perch on the edge of the well-head, which allowed a view, not of the sea, but of the complex tiled roofs of the monastery buildings. The scrape of leather on the flags made her glance up, half-expecting the Count, bent on more teasing, but it was Chance, plate in one hand, beaker in the other.

  ‘May I join you, Alessa?’

  ‘Of course.’ Everyone else was out of earshot, choosing to eat with a sea view. Alessa braced herself for whatever Chance had to say. They had not been alone together since their falling-out on the terrace and she had no idea what to expect from him. If the Count were correct, only a proposition of a shameful sort.

  ‘Will you light a candle for your safe return home?’ he asked, setting down his plate next to hers and seating himself on the broad stone well-top.

  ‘I expect so, although my aunt will probably regard it as superstition.’

  ‘Safe return home to where, though?’

  Wherever you are. The words were so vivid in her mind that for one awful moment she thought she had spoken them aloud. Chance was staring at her—had she said something?

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Now what have
I said to put you out of countenance?’ Chance asked. Alessa was staring at him, colour visible under the light gold of her tan.

  ‘Nothing! I mean, you have made me think about returning to England, and I truly do not know if it is for the best. Corfu has been home for so long. What if I do not like England? What if my family does not like me? And then there are the children to consider. Part of me thinks this is the best way to give them opportunities, and part of me thinks I am wrenching them away from everything they know.’

  ‘Children are adaptable,’ Chance said bracingly. ‘And it is up to you to make the decisions, not for them to dictate to you, their guardian. And you will soon settle with your family.’

  ‘I do not know whether I would want to live with them permanently.’ She was looking dubious.

  ‘But of course you must—unmarried ladies do not live independently.’

  ‘I am not a conventional unmarried lady, am I?’ She sent him a sideways look and he wondered if she was testing to see just how far she could go.

  ‘No, you are not, and to be comfortable in England I would suggest you become as conventional as possible, as soon as possible. Surely you want to make your come-out in society?’

  ‘And find myself a nice conventional husband? Hmm.’ She wrinkled her nose endearingly.

  No, that was not what he wanted for her. He wanted her to fall in love with him and remain, in private at least, his very unconventional Alessa. But how could he say any of that, here in a monastery garden, surrounded by other people?

  ‘Would one want me, though? My past is dubious, after all.’ She did not seem to expect an answer to her own question, for she changed the subject abruptly. ‘Tell me, what degree of comfort might I expect for one thousand pounds a year?’ Alessa took a bite of bread and cheese and chewed thoughtfully for a minute. ‘My aunt says I have about that much, and a little manor in the country. It sounds a great deal of money.’

  ‘A respectable competence,’ Chance agreed. ‘Not a fortune, but you can maintain a small staff and dress well. You could keep your own modest carriage as well.’

  ‘And a good school for Demetri? And a governess for Dora?’

  ‘Why, yes, if you feel it best for them.’

  ‘I do.’ Chance found she was regarding him severely over the rim of her glass. ‘Please do not suggest to my aunt that there is any other solution, because if they cannot come with me, I am not going.’

  ‘Really, I have nothing to say in the matter,’ Chance protested.

  ‘Oh, yes, you have, if you choose. Status is very important to her, and I think she feels sometimes that she has married beneath her. She defers to your opinion, and to Lady Trevick’s—have you not noticed?’

  ‘I would expect her to defer to male opinion,’ Chance began.

  ‘Why? Now you are being stuffy again, just as you were on the terrace the other day, and I do not want to argue with you again.’

  ‘Stuffy? That was not what you said at the time, if I recall.’

  ‘Arrogant, then, if you must have it.’ Alessa scowled at him and Chance realised he was scowling back. Then suddenly her expression lightened and she smiled. Something inside him stammered and he realised it was his heart. ‘Oh, no, we must not quarrel. I will say sorry if you will.’ Chance found he could not resist the sparkle in her eyes. Then she looked away hastily and he was stricken with the fear that the sparkle had been tears, not humour. When she turned back, she was blinking a little in the sunlight.

  ‘Of course. I am sorry if I was—’ her brows drew together ‘—am arrogant. And I am sorry for what happened in the bay.’

  ‘And I am sorry I jumped to conclusions about your motives and because I was just as much to blame as you for what happened in the bay, and at the villa, and I should not have been cross about it.’

  ‘I take full responsibility for that,’ he protested, determined to do this apology properly.

  ‘Now that is arrogant.’A chill had come over her. Why? A moment ago he thought they could be friends again. ‘I am not a sheltered little miss like my cousin,’ she observed. ‘Men take these things less seriously than women.’ Alessa popped an olive between her lips and bit into it slowly with even white teeth.

  Something turned hot and tense inside Chance’s chest and he hurriedly looked away across the garden to where Zagrede was lounging in the shade next to Frances and Helena. There was something familiar about that shrub…

  ‘Should I warn the Count about lying in that particular place?’

  Alessa looked across and gave a gurgle of laughter that turned the heat to molten desire. He turned, and knew from the way the amused smile froze and faltered that she had seen his feelings in his eyes. To hell with waiting until they were back in England and she had found her feet. She thought he was not taking her seriously, she had just said so. That must be put right. He took her hand, feeling it tremble for a moment before she regained her calm.

  ‘Alessa, there is something I need to say to you. This not the place, but when we leave, contrive to walk at the back, with me.’ Could he trust what Voltar had said so surprisingly on those last few hundred yards up to the monastery? Trust your instincts, my friend, hazard a little, surprise yourself, he had concluded, his habitually mocking tone making light of serious advice.

  She looked away, then down at her hand clasped in his. The little shiver ran through it again. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I have a proposition to make to you, and I would like a little privacy to make it in.’

  ‘No.’ She said it quietly, but with a vehemence that shook him. ‘After what was said on the terrace yesterday, I can only assume you are mocking me. I made a grave mistake in allowing myself to…to yield to temptation to the extent that I did. I deeply regret it. But there is nothing else, nothing, that can be between us.’

  Confused, he shook his head. ‘I thought from what the Count said that you might consider—’

  ‘Never! He has no business meddling, and he is quite wrong. I would never accept.’

  Before he could stop her, Alessa wrenched her hand free and jumped down. Her face was pale beneath the soft golden glow the sun had given her, and her teeth were shut hard on her lower lip. She swept over to where the two older women were sitting, their backs to the courtyard, looking out over the sweep of sea.

  ‘Would anyone like anything more to eat, or shall we visit the church?’ she called, her voice light and cheerful.

  She can turn down an offer of marriage, and sound so carefree? Damn it, how could I be so wrong? She did not even hesitate. Chance watched Alessa blithely rounding up the little party. How could I have misjudged her so?

  How could he! How could I have misjudged Chance so? I never truly thought he would have cynically set out to make me his mistress. But the Count was right. Damn the man for interfering—hadn’t I been definite enough that I would not consider such a thing? ‘Do mind your head under this arch, Aunt Honoria.’ He must have thought I was protesting for form’s sake. The Count certainly has divined the truth of my feelings for Chance. ‘Here on the right, Frances, isn’t that a wonderful icon of St George and the dragon? Such rich colours.’ I was right that he was dangerous, and so wrong to give him even a hint of encouragement. ‘Ladies, we must stay here, although the men may pass through the iconostasis.’

  Alessa told herself that she made an excellent guide to the little church, and was pleased to see a generous number of coins fall into the collecting box by the candles. Lady Blackstone looked scandalised when both her niece and the Count took candles and lit them, then Lady Trevick followed suit, exclaiming, ‘How very pretty they look; I really cannot see the harm.’

  Although Lady Blackstone did not go so far as to light one herself, she did not protest when Frances added hers, turning instead to lay her hand on Chance’s arm ‘I see you do not follow the local custom, my lord. Perhaps you could assist me out—it is so very gloomy in here and the incense makes my head ache.’

  Alessa heard her voice, low bu
t penetrating as the two ducked out through the door into the sunshine. ‘I must say I prefer the reverent simplicity of an English country church. But you do not light a candle?’

  ‘I do not think I am in a suitable frame of mind,’ Chance returned.

  Alessa looked around, her lips tightly compressed against a word that would be highly improper in such a setting, and found Voltar Zagrede regarding her quizzically. ‘How could you?’ she hissed at him, taking him firmly by the arm and pulling him out of the church. Her aunt and Chance were talking over by the well, so she dragged the Count to the other end of the courtyard and behind a spreading tree.

  ‘My dear Alessa,’ he purred, ‘I am flattered—’

  ‘No, you are not,’ she snapped. ‘How could you give Chance the idea that I would accept a carte blanche from him?’

  He shrugged. ‘But that was not my intention. I thought to indulge in a little matchmaking.’

  ‘How, exactly?’

  ‘I told him I thought you were very much attracted. Perhaps I gave him the wrong idea, exaggerated the extent of your passion, perhaps. But I will go and explain, make it right.’

  ‘You will do no such thing! I have already put right any misapprehension the Earl might be harbouring about my willingness to agree to what he wants, and I would be obliged if you do nothing, absolutely nothing, to interfere again.’ She knew she was being both rude and abrupt, but as the man seemed impervious to hints, and was a stranger to tact, only a bludgeon would do.

  ‘My dear, you have my pledge. Not a word will I utter.’ Zagrede lifted her hand and pressed it to her lips before she realised his intention. ‘I am your most devoted slave.’