A Daughter's Destiny (20 page)

Her fingers curled as she looked at their wagon. She trusted Evan with her body, but not with the secrets in her heart. How she wished she could believe Giovanna was right!

“Brienne?” Sal's voice cut through her disquiet.

Turning, she smiled and waved to him. “I am right here.”

He walked to her side. “Put away the dishes, Brienne. You do not have any time to cook today.”

“That is right,” Giovanna said, grinning. “I shall have to cook today.”

“I hope Angiola gets better quickly.” He rolled his eyes, then tweaked Giovanna's cheek and chuckled. “Cara
mia
, we thank heaven any day you are too busy to cook.”

“Be quiet!” she retorted with mock fury. “A woman cannot be good at everything. You never complain about my other skills.”

Knowing they could go on like this for a while longer, Brienne interjected, “What are you talking about? I was going to make a soufflé for today's meal.”

“It will have to wait,” Evan said as he joined them. “Today, you make your acting debut in the production of
The Golden Lion
.”

“What?”

“Angiola is not feeling well. You have seen the play performed enough to know it.”

“Not all the lines!” She looked from one smiling face to another. “I am not an actress. Giovanna—”

Giovanna chuckled. “Did you never tell a tale to your
maman?
Have you never sung a song and pretended that you were dancing at a ball with a prince?”

“Yes. Years ago when I was a child.”

“Then, you shall do fine.”

Nothing Brienne said would change their minds. When Giovanna handed her the costume, Brienne sighed. She had seen the play, and it was close to a story she had listened to when she was young. As Giovanna herded her to the wagon to try on the costume, she reassured Brienne that the exact words of each line were not as important as telling the story.

Brienne saw Evan's grin as she went into the wagon. She knew this was his idea. She simply wished she knew why.

She had no chance to ask him as Giovanna worked with her to get the story of
The Golden Lion
straight. Repeating back the entrances and exits, Brienne tried to concentrate as she basted the costume to fit her. She was more slender than Angiola, so she had to take in the waist. When Giovanna left to prepare their meal and help with the stage, Brienne hurried to finish the dress.

Shaking it out, she realized a button was missing in the very center of the corsetlike bodice. She had to get it repaired. Rushing out of her wagon, she hurried across the frozen ground. She knocked on the door of the Benedettos' wagon; then she tightened her cloak around her. Winter cold slapped her face. Glancing about, she saw the trees rocking in the thinning light. She hoped there would not be a storm. She did not want rain blown between the cracks in the wagon's wall to pelt her.

When she got no response, she rapped again, louder. She had thought Angiola would be resting inside.

She lifted the latch. “Is anyone here? Signore Benedetto? Signora? Angiola? Are you in?”

When she got no answer, she scurried in and looked about in confusion. The wagon was divided by a curtain. Only a chair was on this side of the curtain. She hated to sneak through the wagon, but she needed the button. The show would be starting within the hour. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the curtain aside.

She smiled when she saw a sewing basket on a tiny table. Quickly she found a button to match the one on the princess's costume. She scooped it up.

As she turned to leave, she heard the unmistakable sound of the latch rising. In horror, she froze. How could she explain being back in this private area?

Her pounding heartbeat dimmed as a familiar laugh sifted through the curtain. “You are looking better than I expected when I heard you were sick,” she heard Evan say.

Angiola's laugh was throaty and inviting. “How kind of you to say that!”

“There is no kindness in the truth.” A pause, then he asked, “Shall I put this box here on the chair?”

“Wherever you wish. Thank you so much for helping with it, Evan.”

“You are welcome. Rest so you can be back on stage tomorrow. Sal is pleased with the money collected when you perform.”

“I like to please my friends.”

“I am sure you do.”

Brienne heard the rumble of amusement in his voice, but was not sure if he was laughing at Angiola or what she said.

“And I am sure you need your rest to get better.”

“Evan, stay just a moment. I want to talk to you.”

“Yes?”

“About Brienne.”

Behind the curtain, Brienne pressed her hand over her mouth to silence her gasp of astonishment. She had not thought Angiola would speak of her when she had lured Evan into her wagon. Peeking through the tattered curtain, she wished she was anywhere but there. Too late, she realized that if she simply had been honest and admitted straightaway that she had come into the wagon for a button, she could have avoided this embarrassment.

“What about Brienne?” Evan stood in profile so Brienne could see his smile as he looked at the blonde.

“She and you came to the Teatro Caparelli together.” Angiola stepped closer and walked her fingers along his arm. “Have you been traveling together long?”

“Not long.”

“Then, I find it very, very, very strange,” she purred, “that you have failed to notice how I have been watching you in the short time
we
have been together.”

“I have noticed you.”

“I thought you might have.” Angiola slithered her arm around his shoulders and rubbed her leg against his. “An Englishwoman does not understand what we Italians do. Men and women need each other.”

When his arm settled on Angiola's waist, Brienne's eyes filled with tears. How he had teased her about being jealous of Angiola! Now here he stood in what he thought was an empty wagon and welcomed Angiola's attentions.

“That is very true,” he murmured.

“I could satisfy that need for you, Evan.”

He chuckled and put his fingers under her chin. “There is no doubt about that, angel.”

“Then, let me.” Angiola's hand on the back of his head brought his mouth to hers. The leisurely kiss seemed to last an eternity.

Brienne drew back from the curtain as tears ran along her face. She ignored them. Could anything be more ridiculous than having to admit that she was falling in love with Evan at the very moment he was holding another woman? Leaning her head against the wall, she swallowed her sobs.

The voices beyond the curtain ripped her out of her grief. When she heard Evan suggesting a walk beyond the wagons, she wondered if someone had struck her in the stomach. She could not catch her breath, for pain ached as if she had suffered Evan's bruised ribs. The door closed behind Evan and Angiola, and Brienne shoved the curtain aside.

She ran to the door and opened it enough to be sure no one would see her leave. If she met Evan when he had his arm around Angiola, she would not know what to say. The clouds darkened the day, but her heart was lost in a void of a deeper ebony. Running to her wagon, she was not shocked that it was empty. Pietro would be working with his sister and Sal. Angiola would be with Evan. Only Brienne was alone.

“Good evening,
principessa
!”

Brienne tensed as Giovanna continued to lather thick makeup on her cheeks. Trying not to let her pain filter into her voice, she asked, “What are you doing here, Evan? I thought you would be helping with the scenery.”

“We are done. The storm has passed, and the show will open as soon as the leading lady is ready.”

Putting her hand over her stomach, she silently ordered the quaking to cease.

Evan edged around Giovanna. When he smiled, she tried not to think how he had worn a similar expression in the moment before he kissed Angiola. She wanted to shriek at him, telling him to leave the wagon and her life, but she could not. The Caparellis were depending on her.

“No need to stare,” she said coolly. “I know I look funny with all these cosmetics, but—”

“You do not look funny.” His gaze moved along her. “You look like a princess, honey.”

“Not a
duchesse?
”

“Nasty, nasty,” he admonished as Giovanna chuckled her throaty laugh. “Shall I excuse your lack of manners as stage nerves?”

“If you wish.”
Or we both could be honest, and I could tell you how you have broken my heart
.

“All finished,” announced Giovanna. She motioned for Brienne to stand. “Turn around. Let me be sure the tucks in the waist do not show.”

As Giovanna bent to check the hastily altered dress, Brienne kept her smile in place. She would not let Evan know how he had hurt her. Not in front of Giovanna. Any sympathy would crush her totally.

Giovanna smiled. “Perfect. Five minutes before the curtain, Brienne. You shall do wonderfully. Shall I come for you?”

“I shall be sure she is there for her entrance,” Evan said lightly, but his gaze remained on Brienne.

The door closed. An uneasy silence smothered her while Brienne tried to think of something to say. Finally she mumbled, “I feel like a painted doxy.”

“No angel could aspire to your beauty.”

Angel!
That was what he had called Angiola. Had Angiola fallen for his seduction as readily as Brienne had? She could not ask that. Instead she said, “I hope I do not make a fool of myself when I step out on the stage.”

Evan's hands settled on her shoulders which were bared by the dress's deep neckline. As his gaze moved again along her, she shrugged them off and turned away.

To her back, he said, “You need only go out on that stage and smile. That will thrill every man watching.”

“I am not Angiola.”

“That is something I have to agree with.”

She bit her lip. She had given him every chance to admit to the truth, but yet he continued to act as if nothing had changed. Mayhap he had not changed, but he had changed her.

She heard Sal calling her name. “I have to go. Sal will be furious if the curtain is late.”

“Go, honey.” When she spun toward the door, he caught her arm. He smiled. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

“And have fun.”

“Like you always do?” She rushed out, leaving him with a puzzled frown. Mayhap, at last, he understood her terse answers.

Giovanna met Brienne behind the stage. “The audience is a good one. They were delighted with Pietro's juggling. We thought you would like a few extra minutes to compose yourself, so he and Sal arranged a few tricks to entertain the audience.” She smiled. “You shall do well. Evan is right. You look like a
principessa
. Far more than Angiola ever has.”

She did not want to hear that woman's name, but said only, “I hope I do not make too many mistakes.”
Beyond being behind the curtain while Evan kissed Angiola this afternoon
.

Adjusting the layers of cloth which were meant to be an old woman's rags, Giovanna chuckled softly. “The audience will love you.”

Her answer was halted by the drumbeat which announced the beginning of the play. Stepping into the wings, she watched the others take their places. Evan drew the curtain, and the play began. As she stood silently, she repeated her lines in her head. Suddenly she gasped.

“What is wrong?” Evan asked.

“My sash! I left it in the wagon.”

“Wait here! I'll get it for you.”

Anxiously she looked from the actors on the stage to Evan rushing toward the wagons. Her cue would come soon. She could not miss it. Caught up in her fear, she realized the actors were waiting for the curtain to close to end the first act. Quickly she grasped the rope. It burned her hands as the curtain closed with a loud swish.

“Ready?” asked Sal as he rubbed his cold hands together. Giovanna pressed one end of his fake beard back into place, and he grinned.

“As soon as Evan—”

“Here it is,” Evan interrupted as he shoved the white sash into her hands. “My life is much more hectic with all of you on the stage. I am the only one to run errands today.” When she started to thank him, he smiled and gestured toward the stage. “Go and show them what a true princess looks like, honey.”

Brienne twisted the cloth around her wrist nervously. As Sal took his place on stage, she prepared for her entrance. The curtain opened. The candles at the edge of the stage were far brighter than she had expected. As she heard Sal repeat his line to hide the fact that she had missed her cue, she forced her feet forward.

Her voice wobbled like her knees as she said, “Father, I tire of being shut away.”

“I must find the wisest, bravest man to rule my kingdom and win my daughter. Only a man who can solve in eight days the puzzle of where I have hidden my daughter.”

“Yet, I wish to see the sun, smell the flowers, feel the breezes on my face.”

Sal motioned to his left. In the guise of the golden lion, Pietro inched onto the stage. “See, my daughter, I bring you a gift. A statue of a golden lion which will brighten your day.”

“Thank you, Father.” She pretended to kiss his cheek, being careful not to loosen the beard.

“Enjoy it, my daughter,” he said as he exited.

Looking at the audience, she pressed her hands to her chest and bemoaned the fate of a lonely princess. “What is the use of a fine castle when I have no one but my eleven attendants to share it with me? Where is the man who will be brave enough to lead my father's men and wise enough to unravel this puzzle and handsome enough to win my heart? Can there be such a man?”

“There is one.”

“Who spoke?” She glanced about the stage as if searching for the speaker.

When the voice answered, she froze as she realized who was within the papier-mâché lion. A whisper from the edge of the stage ordered her to answer. Somehow she did. Again she heard Evan speak the lines Pietro should have been speaking. She glanced toward the wings where Giovanna stood. When she saw Pietro standing there with a broad grin on his face, she knew that everyone had known of the switch in players. Everyone but her.