Larcenous Lady (18 page)

“Of course she is,” Dick said angrily. “I pumped Réal’s brain dry and learned a few more details. He went back to Mestre the day Elvira disappeared. From what he could discover, no young lady traveling alone left Mestre at the time Elvira
should
have left to reach her hotel in time to see Pronto that evening. There were two English couples, middle-aged folks, and there was one young gentleman traveling alone. Why didn’t Nick see her enter the hotel when she arrived?”

“It’s what she did between leaving and returning that’s really important,” Deirdre pointed out.

“What she did was see Claude, who hastened off to visit Styger. Then Styger left his hired house, to be gone for two days. And in two days, Elvira is to marry Pronto. Hmm.” He sat thinking about this for a moment.

“If she’s going to marry Pronto, then perhaps she went to tell Claude—as she said she was telling Robert Blackwell.”

“You don’t tell your husband you’re marrying another man.”

“You’re only guessing she’s married to Claude. Perhaps it’s Lucy that’s married to him.”

“Why would Elvira have to tell the Jalberts she was marrying Pronto then? It’s none of their business. It doesn’t make sense—it’s too complicated. Solutions are usually simple, once you get on the right track.”

Belami sunk his hand in his fist and frowned. “All the ladies in this case are too complicated to suit me. Elvira laughing up her sleeve at me, Carlotta playing off her stunts and smirking till I can hardly keep my hands off her throat. And I sit here like an idiot, waiting for them to call the tune. We don’t have a clue what’s going on, that’s the trouble. Nothing makes any sense. Elvira doesn’t care two straws for Pronto. She’s just after his blunt. We can’t let Pronto marry that creature. The stomach turns to think of having her always around us in the future, bear-leading him. She’s taken control of his passport; after the wedding, she’s to handle his money. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if the whole ménage moves in with him. They’re planning to accompany him on the treacle moon at least.”

This speech inevitably called up a memory of the duchess and turned them both frigid. “I told him he was mad to even consider it,” Belami added firmly.

Deirdre pokered up and said, “If there’s nothing more to be done tonight, then I shall retire. Good night, Belami.” She rose and strode to the door.

Belami was after her in a flash. He grabbed her wrist and swung her around to face him. “Running away doesn’t solve anything.”

“It solves the problem of being alone with you.”

A satirical smile curved his lips. “Being alone with me is a problem? Now, why is that, I wonder? Could it be you don’t trust yourself, Miss Gower?”

“It’s you I don’t trust.”

“Wise girl. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

She looked into his dark eyes that stared at her with a penetrating gaze. There was some enchantment in him. She felt her resolve weaken. His arms went around her, pulling her against him. “You know you love me, and I love you,” he said in a husky voice. “Marry me.”

The breath caught in her throat as his head descended, till his lips were just brushing hers. His lips firmed in a ruthless kiss that set her head reeling. But reeling amidst the pleasanter thoughts of seeing Italy with Dick was the tawdry wedding of Pronto and Elvira in a cheap hotel. She didn’t want her wedding to be like that. And, of course, there was the duchess to be talked around. Dick’s arms tightened till she felt suffocated. She pushed him away and stood panting.

“No,” she said. “Not here. Not at the Léon Bianco.”

“We can use this palazzo.”

“No!”

She saw Dick’s passion darken to impatience. “You name the place then. You won’t find a city with more churches per square foot than Venice. I don’t care where, but I care when. I’m tired of waiting.”

“No, Dick. We must rescue Pronto first.”

Belami felt guilty at what his passion had led him to suggest. “You’re right. Business before pleasure. But after we’ve settled this business, Deirdre—”

“I haven’t definitely said yes.”

“You said not here—that implies.”

“That implies uncertainty,” she pointed out, and before he could say more, she walked away.

Dick stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching as she went up. She turned around at the top and looked at him. Not a smile, or a wave, just a look. Rather a doubtful look actually. He should have pressed his advantage. But first he should save Pronto.

He walked slowly back to the saloon, poured a glass of wine, and thought about Pronto. Was Deirdre right in thinking it was Lucy who was married to Claude Jalbert? Claude Jalbert—he wished he knew the man, then he might have an idea which sort of lady he would have chosen.

But then you could never tell. Who would ever have thought Pronto would fall in love with that beautiful Turk, Elvira Sutton? She was already managing him. Once she had him legally shackled, Pronto’s life wouldn’t be worth one of those counterfeit guineas. Yet if Elvira were single, she would surely get him to the altar. They were halfway there already. There remained only Friday to extricate Pronto from disaster.

And he had no real idea how to set about it. If he could find the dies... He’d stick like a burr to Elvira tomorrow. If the dies and money changed hands, he’d be there, ready to pounce. And if they didn’t change hands, he’d be waiting at Styger’s house near Mira the next day. By hook or crook he’d halt the wedding. And probably lose Pronto’s friendship one way or the other. At least Deirdre was beginning to thaw.

Chapter Thirteen

The Sutton party arrived a little late for their visit to the palazzo the next afternoon, but with an acceptable excuse. “We received a note from Cerbon just as we were leaving and had to stop by his shop,” Mrs. Sutton explained.

“Not buying more jewelry for those daughters of yours, Mrs. Sutton?” the duchess asked. If “Dear Meggie” was surprised to hear herself addressed so formally, she didn’t betray it.

“Only the pearl we have been trying to find for Lucy,” Mrs. Sutton assured her grace. “One turned up in Padua, and Cerboni sent me word at the hotel. We went down immediately and arranged to purchase it. He will set it in gold, to match Elvira’s.”

“I hope he isn’t charging some outlandish sum?”

Mrs. Sutton flushed and admitted it had not come cheap.

“Three thousand,” Pronto said. “Told her it was steep.”

The duchess just shook her head. “Here I thought you were mad to pay a thousand for Elvira’s.”

“I shall see the pearl first and decide whether it is of the same high quality as Elvira’s,” Mrs. Sutton explained. “We hadn’t thought it would be possible to find one at all.”

“Did you choose the diamond necklace yet?” Deirdre asked.

“I have chosen it,” Elvira answered. “The price is still to be settled. If Cerboni remains unreasonable, I shall try another shop.”

The old conte was merry as a grig to have such a surfeit of pretty young ladies around him. His watery smile wandered from one youthful face to another, finally settling on Elvira. “Diamonds, they would suit you, signorina,” he told her, bowing with great ceremony from his bath chair.

Belami kept his eyes open but could detect no secret looks between Carlotta and Elvira except a shared smile at the conte’s drooling behavior.

After a glass of wine, the contessa arranged for a tour of the palazzo. “You especially will be interested in the art, Miss Sutton,” she said. “We have mostly frescoes and some rather interesting statuary in the garden.”

Lucy and Pronto also rose for the tour. “You will not be interested in that, Mrs. Sutton,” the duchess informed the other guest. “You and I shall stay here by the fireside with the conte and have a good cose. One misses half the advantage of foreign travel if she cannot see how the natives live. Why don’t we offer Mrs. Sutton some of your excellent wine, Conte?”

“Yes, yes. It is right here,” the conte said. Then he turned to Elvira. “Hurry back, my dear,” he called.

Belami had no intention of letting Elvira and Carlotta out of his sight, so he and Deirdre also joined the group. It was a good chance to examine the palazzo for likely hiding spots as well. There were so many of them that he felt quite despondent. After an hour’s stroll admiring the fading art works, the group returned to the saloon. Nothing of the least interest had happened.

“Are you all set for our masquerade ball?” the duchess inquired when they returned.

“We have been so busy we haven’t arranged our costumes yet,” Mrs. Sutton admitted. “Mr. Pilgrim tells us there is a shop in the Merceria that has all manner of outfit for hire.”

“Why, there’s no need to lay down your blunt. The conte has a room full of old clothes. I’m sure the contessa would be delighted to let the youngsters root around and find something,” the duchess said.

Carlotta led the young ladies off to try their luck amidst the decaying silks and laces from the past. Lucy found a gold brocade court gown cut daringly low in front and wanted to try it on. When she came from behind the screen to get help with the back fasteners, the gown was seen to be much too low in front and too long. Her feet got caught under the hem at every step.

“That gown would fit you better, Miss Sutton,” the contessa suggested, measuring Elvira’s size and height.

Elvira just shook her head. “No, I mean to go as the Queen of Sheba.”

“What will you wear?” Carlotta asked. “I confess I wouldn’t have a notion what would be suitable.”

“Something very rich and splendid,” Elvira said vaguely.

Lucy, busily pawing through racks of gowns, exclaimed, “Oh, look, Elvira! This would just suit you. A blue shot silk, with gold ribbons and a sort of shawl thing, all beaded.”

Elvira lifted the gown from the rack and observed it. Carlotta said, “That should fit you, Miss Sutton. I put it on once and it was to large for me. Try it.”

Elvira carried the gown behind the screen. When Deirdre saw Carlotta following her on the pretext of helping her with the gown, she went, too. It might be a ruse for them to have some private talk.

“Good gracious, I don’t want an audience while I undress!” Elvira laughed. “Modesty forbids. Lucy! You come and help me.”

Carlotta looked amazed at this blushing speech. “My dear, we are not voyeurs!” she said haughtily. On this speech she strode from behind the screen, with Deirdre behind her.

There was some girlish giggling behind the screen, and in a few moments Elvira came out, looking regal in the silk gown, with the shawl modestly drawn across her shoulders and hiding her chest. Carlotta regarded her critically. “Take off the shawl,” she suggested.

“The fit isn’t very good,” Elvira said, and went back to remove the gown.

Carlotta watched her as she left. She shrugged her shoulders. “What she didn’t want us to see was her large waist,” she said in a low voice to Deirdre. “She couldn’t get the gown done up at the back. My waist is eighteen inches,” she added, spanning it with her own hands. She looked through the racks for a larger gown, but nothing met Elvira’s favor.

“I shan’t take up any more of your time,” Elvira said. “Tomorrow we shall go to the Merceria and choose something, Lucy. I would like to see the statuary in the garden before dinner. May we go outside and wander around, Contessa?”

The contessa was quite satisfied for the guests to entertain themselves. She and Deirdre returned to the saloon for a glass of wine. Belami looked alert when they entered. Deirdre shook her head. Nothing interesting occurred over tea either, except that the conte was so enraptured with Elvira that he didn’t watch what he was about and drooled down his shirt front. Pronto became a bit miffed at the old fellow’s way of staring at his fiancée.

“Miss Sutton is marrying me the day after tomorrow,” he told the conte, rather sternly.

“You are a fortunate man, sir. She is uncommonly pretty. You will have trouble with that one. I like a lady who gives me plenty of trouble. That’s why I married my Carlotta,” he said fondly.

Pronto sat, trying to figure out whether he’d been complimented or insulted. “Miss Sutton is a very nice girl.”

The conte nudged his elbow into Pronto’s and smiled wickedly. “They all fool us that way at the beginning. Nice girl—ha, there is no such a thing. And if there were, we ought to have a law against it. I have been to your England. And France. Ladies are the same the world over. All trouble. Love is flame for a year, then ashes for thirty. But that one year makes it all worthwhile.” He smiled at Carlotta.

After the party was over and the guests had gone home, Belami found himself wondering why Carlotta had invited them. She hadn’t been alone with any of the Suttons for a moment. She hadn’t even tried to get any of them alone. Certainly no exchange, even of information or a note, had occurred. It seemed a pointless visit, and Carlotta wasn’t a lady who engaged in pointless doings.

The contessa had invited her houseguests to attend the opera that evening along with some other friends. Belami was interested to hear the music and see how an opera was carried out in a foreign country. He thought the music might have been good, had he been allowed to hear it.

The Venetians, he learned, went to an opera or a play to flirt and talk. Even the talk was no more than gossip—whose wife had a new
cavalier servente,
who was enceinte, and who was the probable father. He received many interested smiles and more than one invitation to call, always on married ladies. The ladies, it seemed, weren’t allowed to flirt or take a lover till they had secured their reputation with a marriage first. Like England in that respect.

He felt he was wasting his time. He had only one more day—tomorrow—to save Pronto. Why was Elvira marrying Pronto? Was it for his money? Maybe she didn’t intend to marry him at all. He’d given her a valuable diamond ring. With luck, that was all she was after. He sat staring at the stage, not hearing a sound. Styger returned tomorrow. The wedding was the next day.

His head buzzed with questions. Was it the plan for the whole lot of them to disappear Friday night? If so, Carlotta’s having stolen the dies might throw a spanner into things. They wouldn’t want to leave without the dies. Where was Styger, and what was he doing? And where was Claude? Why had Elvira made that flying trip to see them? If she wasn’t Claude’s wife, then it hadn’t been an amorous rendezvous. Had she gone to get money—counterfeit money—to buy Lucy’s pearl and the diamond necklace?