To Deceive a Duke (21 page)

He laughed. ‘On the contrary. I would have travelled here even faster.’

Clio laughed, too. ‘Perhaps you should have! We’ve wasted so much time being angry. Not—not seeing. But tell me the rest of your tale. Have you found the silver yet? Any piece of it?’

‘Not yet, but luckily it seems that neither have the thieves. You have got in their way.’

‘Me?’

‘Your work at the farmhouse. That is where it’s thought the silver will be found. Before your arrival, no one ever went there, and the thieves could work in leisurely peace. When they could find people willing to brave the curse, that is. Now…’

‘So, that
is
why you warned me away!’

‘Of course. These are ruthless men. They would get you out of their way however they could.’

Clio shook her head, furious that thieves would dare defile her farmhouse! Dare sully the lives of those who had lived there, had buried that silver in fear and frantic hope so long ago.
This belongs to the gods
. ‘The English buyer grows impatient,’ she said, remembering the conversation she overheard at the
feste
.

‘Yes. That’s why you are now in greater danger. Why I kidnapped you.’

‘Who is the English, then, that has the money to command such a flock of thieves?’ Including, it seemed, Rosa’s Giacomo.’

‘At first we thought Ronald Frobisher.’

‘Lady Riverton’s cicisbeo?’ Clio said, somewhat surprised. She would not have thought of him; he always seemed merely concerned with his neckcloths and planning parties, staying in the good graces of Lady Riverton. She should have remembered appearances were almost always deceiving.

‘He seems to have the money, and he’s quite an ardent collector, if something of a neophyte. Possessing a silver altar set would gain him attention and respect among other collectors. And with Lady Riverton.’

‘Very true. No one else has anything like that, not that I know of.’

‘If you
had
known, would the Lily Thief have struck again?’

Clio laughed. ‘I told you, my thieving days are behind me. Except for the night I broke into your palazzo, of course. But you said you
did
suspect Frobisher. Do you not any longer?’

‘Oh, he is part of it. It seems, though, that he is acting on behalf of someone else.’

‘Of course,’ Clio breathed, feeling suddenly foolish. ‘Someone he wants to impress above any other. Lady Riverton.’

‘Indeed,’ Edward answered. ‘When I first came to Santa Lucia, I did not suspect her, either. Lord Riverton was a great collector, but she never really seemed to share his interest.’

‘No. Only hats and parties. I should have known no one could be
that
interested in bonnets without having something to hide.’

‘I couldn’t understand why she was in a quiet place like Santa Lucia, and not in Naples. Only people with a great interest in history and antiquities come here.’

‘I just thought she wanted to play social queen for a while, in a place where no one else has time to throw lavish parties,’ Clio said reflectively. ‘Father and Thalia enjoyed her entertainments well enough, and I didn’t think of it all very much. What a cabbage-head I was!’

‘Then we are cabbage-heads together, surely.’

‘Are you quite certain it is Lady Riverton?’

‘Not completely. But the list of suspects is short, and she and Frobisher are at the top.’

Clio tipped her head back against the stone wall, staring up at the skylight as her thoughts whirled. ‘We have to find out for sure.’

‘We?’
He shook his head. ‘No, Clio.’

‘Yes!’ she cried. She turned to him in growing excitement, clasping both his hands in hers. ‘You said yourself you cannot lock me up to keep me safe.’

He shook his head again, his lips set in a stubborn frown. ‘That does not mean I will put you right on the path of danger.’

‘I am not like the silver, you know,’ she insisted. ‘You cannot hide me away. I may not have seen the truth of Lady Riverton, but I can help you. I have worked with people like that, I know how they think. How they act.’

‘No! If you were hurt…’

‘I won’t be hurt! Did anything happen to me when I was the Lily Thief?’

‘Only because you were lucky.’

‘Lucky, yes. But also I was not stupid. I won’t be stupid now, either! Please. Let me help you find the silver. We can’t let it be lost.’

He stared down at her, his green eyes dark and full of stern doubts. She did not turn from him, just held on to his hands, willing him to believe in her. To see that she could be strong, and they could achieve so very much together.

‘I am not a porcelain doll,’ she said. ‘I don’t crack easily, and you know that. I
can
help you, if you will just give me a chance.’ She pressed kisses to the white scar on his brow, the crooked line of his nose. ‘You will be there to protect me, I know.’

Finally, finally, she sensed him wavering the merest bit. He shook his head again, but said, ‘Very well. I know that your help will be invaluable. I have seen what you can do. But you must promise me you will be careful, that you will take cover at the first hint of any danger.’

‘Thank you!’ she cried, kissing him again in a burst of jubilant excitement. ‘You will not be sorry. We will find the villain, whether it’s Lady Riverton or not, and they will lead us to the silver. You must promise
me
something, though.’

‘What is it?’ he said. He still looked most wary, but she knew that would soon change. Once he saw the full potential of all they could be together.

‘That you will also be careful. For you are quite precious, as well.’

He caught her in a fierce embrace, his mouth finding hers in a kiss full of passion and desperation. Clio wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, feeling his manhood lengthen and
harden against her, as he walked up the sloping ground to the dry side of the grotto. Passion born of danger and anticipation blossomed between them, undeniable as a tidal wave. He pressed her back against the wall and entered her, fast and full of need, lust, fear and—and hope.

Clio arched against him, melding him to her even deeper, until she didn’t know where he ended and she began. They were, and always had been, as one. And there, in that ancient grotto, she gave him her whole heart. In that moment she was his.

Not that she would tell
him
that, of course. He would only take that as a sign he should marry her and lock her up for all time. And she would make a terrible, miserable captive-duchess.

But for that instant, as their bodies and kisses and souls melded, she loved him. And it had to be enough.

Later, Clio lay at the edge of the pool, revelling in the feel of the warm water lapping at her feet, the broken sunlight that fell over them from high above. Edward’s head rested on her naked stomach, and she ran her fingers through his loose hair, smiling at the absolute perfection of that moment, the gentle, sweet lassitude that had stolen over her in the wake of their lovemaking.

She laughed in a sudden burst of irrepressible merriment, kicking out at the water and sending a blue-green spray high in the air. Edward rolled over, grinning up at her.

‘I love the sound of your laughter,’ he said. ‘It’s much too rare.’

‘No doubt it sounds rusty with disuse,’ she answered. ‘We are far too serious people, you and I.’

‘True. We don’t do anything casually. Nothing by halves.’

‘All for one, eh?’

‘If you would only let me.’

‘Hmm. It’s—difficult for me, you know. To trust, to share. I’m used to living in my own head.’

‘Keeping your own counsel?’

‘Indeed. Like someone else we know,
your Grace
.’ She splashed water over his handsome head, making him laugh in turn. ‘You’re infuriatingly close-mouthed when you want to be.’

‘Oh, not always. Not now, for instance.’ He pressed a warm kiss to her abdomen, the curve of her ribs. ‘Or now…’

Clio shivered, tangling her fingers in his wet hair. ‘You are trying to distract me.’

He grinned against her skin, leaving a string of yet more kisses just under her breasts, the arc of her shoulder. ‘Is it working?’

Of course it was. She could hardly remember her own name when he touched her like that. She tightened her clasp on his hair, drawing him away from her so she could think again. ‘You know I am trying to get you to promise not to keep secrets from me any longer.’

He groaned, and rolled over to lie by her side. Only their hands touched. ‘I have no more secrets left. You know everything.’

‘Not quite everything.’

‘Everything that matters. You know more of me than anyone else ever has. But I am not the only one with secrets,’ he said.

‘I have also told you everything,’ she protested. ‘You know all. Even about the Lily Thief.’

‘Oh, come now, surely I cannot know
all
. You are a very complicated person, Clio Chase. There must be a great deal hidden in the dark corridors of your soul.’

Clio laughed. ‘Dark corridors of the soul? Are you perchance a secret novel reader, your Grace?’

‘I have been known to indulge in a Minerva Press tome a time or two, if you must know my very last secret,’ he said. ‘Purely for cultural research.’

‘Oh, yes, certainly.’ Clio squeezed his hand.

‘So, tell me,’ he said. ‘What would Clio’s truth be?’

That she loved him to distraction, of course. Her beautiful, strange, horrible, wonderful duke. She couldn’t say that aloud, though, for she
did
still have some secrets she locked away. ‘I told you, Edward. You know them all. Every last shocking thing. The wonder is that you are still here with me.’

‘I don’t scare that easily,’ he said. ‘The only thing that could have made me run away would be discovering that you are actually an empty-headed débutante. One of those dreaded gigglers in white gowns.’

‘No fear of that. None of the Chases are
gigglers
.’

‘I’m very glad to hear it. So, giggling is not your secret.’

‘Indeed not.’

‘A propensity to read fashion papers? Secret tippling?’

‘I have enjoyed a grappa on occasion,’ she admitted. ‘One of our cook’s many sons distils it, you see, and it’s quite good.’

‘Ah-ha! I knew there was something.’

‘Now you truly do know all,’ Clio said lightly. But the memory of that grappa made her think of Rosa’s other son, Giacomo the
tombarolo
, and she felt a deep pang of sadness for people she had come to care about. ‘I have been thinking…’

‘Oh, no! Never that.’ He laughed. ‘Terrible things come of thinking, Clio. Thefts, night-time break-ins, things of that sort.’

‘Well, you are just going to have to become accustomed to thinking. I do a lot of it, you know.’

‘I do know. What are you thinking of right now?’

‘Of finding the silver, and ferreting out the thieves.’

‘I see.’ Edward sat up, suddenly serious. ‘Well, surely no one would know better how to go about such things. What are your thoughts?’

‘I’ve been hearing quite a bit about vengeful spirits, curses and such. They often seem to take matters like that seriously here, and it seems my farmhouse is ringed with them.’

‘I have heard such tales, too,’ he said. ‘That your site is guarded by ghosts who keep away interlopers. It’s probably one of the reasons the hoard has stayed safe so long.’

‘Hmm, yes. The local thieves would be scared of the spirits who guard the silver.’ Clio remembered the warning inscription on the bottom of the bowl. ‘Silver that belongs to the gods.’

‘You think we can use these curses in some way?’

‘Not on Lady Riverton, perhaps. But maybe on the thieves who do the actual work. Giacomo for one seemed to be convinced.’ Clio frowned in thought. ‘Lady Riverton and Mr Frobisher couldn’t get the silver themselves. They wouldn’t know how to do it. They rely entirely on their hired
tombaroli
. If the thieves thought the curse was upon them…’

‘They might lead us to the cache, or at least refuse to dig up any more.’

‘Hopefully, yes.’

‘How do you propose we implement this curse? Ghosts are notoriously unreliable.’

‘Well, for that we may need some assistance.
You
are certainly dramatic enough for anything, but you are so well known. I don’t think we two can do it alone.’

‘Exactly what kind of “assistance”?’ he said suspiciously. ‘Your friend Marco?’

‘I hadn’t thought of Marco! I’m sure he could be of valuable use, though. He’s quite good at disguises, and he knows more about local customs than I do.’

‘Yes, I know about his disguises. Then, if not the Count, who? We don’t want too many people involved.’

‘I agree. The more people, the more likely the scheme will be discovered. But Thalia is entirely trustworthy, and always ready for mischief,’ Clio said.

‘Your sister?’

‘Yes. She is an excellent actress; you saw her at the theatricals. And she is also something of a playwright. She would be the best one to help us concoct a play about ghosts and curses.’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, the stern Duke again. ‘I agreed to accept
your
help. I cannot put all your sisters in danger, too.’

‘It is only one sister! Believe me, Thalia is ideal for such a task. She might look fluffy and fashionable, but she truly is quite talented. And she has even more “dark corridors” in her soul than I do, I would vow. If anyone is ruthless enough to spring a trap on Lady Riverton, it is Thalia.’

Edward was quiet for along moment, then said grudgingly, ‘Very well. Your sister, then, and perhaps that blasted Count. That is all.’

‘That’s all I need,’ Clio said, satisfied. For the moment.

‘Where shall we “spring this trap”, then?’

‘Where else, my darling? The ancient theatre. I’m sure all manner of ghosts dwell there.’

C
lio peered through her spyglass at the amphitheatre below her rocky perch. It grew late in the day, but Thalia was still there, her script open in her hands as she paced the length of the old stage. The sun was an orb of shimmering burnt-orange behind her, beginning its long descent below the horizon and casting Thalia’s white draperies in stripes of bright colours.

Already Clio felt the fairy-tale magic of her little cottage fading away into mist, dispersed by the cold winds of life and plotting. The soft cocoon that enclosed her in that small bedchamber, the grotto, fell away, leaving her shivering and exposed, aching for dreams she hadn’t even realised she possessed. They were all gone now, vanished in the face of the real world.

But even as she lost her idyll, she felt a new, hard-steeled sense of purpose she hadn’t known since the end of the Lily Thief. There were treasures to save, and this time she was not alone in her mission. She had Edward.

Edward
. She smiled just to think of his name. Months, even just weeks ago, she would have scoffed at the idea that they could work together and not against each other. That they
could even see things from the same angle. Yet here they were, joining forces.

Oh, she knew very well he was still reluctant. She could see it in the troubled depths of his eyes, feel it in the tension of his embrace as they had kissed goodbye on the road into Santa Lucia. He still had his silly, wonderful chivalric ideas about ladies and their place, about keeping her safe. But he would see soon enough. Would see that she would not be kept in an ivory tower, or a cosy cottage.

It all hung on the safe recovery of that silver.

Clio gazed through her glass again, watching Thalia as she drew a shawl up over her robes against the breeze. For an instant, Clio saw her sister not as she was, a beautiful, wilful young lady of immense talent, but as she had once been. A golden little cherub, their mother’s favourite, who toddled everywhere after Clio and Calliope, screaming to be allowed into their games.

Clio sympathised with Edward’s driving desire to keep everyone safe. Thalia was her little sister, the loveliest of the Muses, but also, in many secret ways, the most vulnerable. It had always been her older sisters’ task to protect her. How could Clio put her in danger now?

She nearly turned and fled, running home to hide all her secrets away from her family again. To come up with a new plan, one that put no one but herself in danger. Yet even as she glanced back over her shoulder to the open path, she knew she could not. Thalia would not take kindly to being ‘protected’, any more than Clio had. Thalia would want to be involved, and indeed was truly the best person for the task.

Clio had vowed to let the past go. Perhaps that included letting her sister grow up.

‘“I have heard tell the sorrowful end of her, Niobe”,’ Thalia
said, her voice strong, carrying on the wind. The resolute voice of the tragically principled Antigone. ‘“How strong shoots upgrown like ivy bonds enclosed her in the stone. With snows continuous and ceaseless rain her body melts away…likest to hers the bed my fate prepares”.’

To Clio’s surprise, another voice joined Thalia’s, this one deep and resonant. Touched with the music of a Florentine accent. ‘“She was of godlike nature, and we are mortals, of human race. And it were glorious odds for maiden slain, among the equals of the gods in life—and in death—to gain a place”.’

As Clio watched through her glass, she saw Marco appear from the stony wings. He and Thalia stood together against the brilliant glow of the sun, hands held out to each other, but not touching. Golden day and darkest night.

‘“Ah me, unhappy!”’ Thalia said. ‘“Home is none for me. Alike in life or death an exile must I be”.’

‘“Thou to the farthest verge forth-faring, o my child of daring”,’ Marco said. ‘“The cause is some ancestral load, which thou art bearing”.’

Clio held her breath. She felt she was not watching Thalia and Marco at all, but ancient Greek figures, caught in unbearable, inescapable struggles. Dragged down by fate. No, she could not protect her sister, no matter how much she longed to. Not from anything. They were all bound by their own ‘ancestral loads’.

She put away her glass, scrambling down from the rocks and hurrying along the path to the old agora and theatre. As she moved closer, she saw Thalia and Marco still stood together at the edge of the stage, not speaking, not touching, just gazing together out over the sunset-lit valley.

Perhaps it was her own heightened emotional state, the
deep feelings of being with Edward, making love with him, but she sensed a new tension between Thalia and Marco. A shimmering, tenuous tie between them that made the very air taut.

‘I still don’t think you said it right,’ Thalia said suddenly, snapping that tie in a shower of sparks.

‘Of course I said it right!’ Marco argued. ‘You wanted more emotion in the words, and I gave you more emotion. Italians are good at that.’

‘But now it is too much emotion,’ Thalia insisted stubbornly.

‘May the gods save me from obstinate Englishwomen!’

‘And may the
goddess
save me from men who think they can act! Marco, I do believe that—Clio!’ Thalia cried. She dashed to the edge of the stage, her script fluttering from her hands. She ran down the path to throw her arms around Clio, nearly knocking them both from their feet. ‘Clio, you’re here! You’re alive.’

Clio laughed in surprise, patting Thalia’s shoulder. ‘Of course I am alive.’

‘I was so worried.’ Thalia drew back, her gaze sweeping over Clio as if to be sure of her wholeness. ‘You’re back very early.’

‘I turned back before we reached Motya. There’s too much work here for me to waste time sightseeing.’ Clio glanced over Thalia’s head at Marco, who had come to the edge of the stage and watched warily. ‘I see you have been busy.’

‘Marco, you mean?’ Thalia said carelessly. She laughed, but Clio thought it was a tense sound, unlike Thalia’s usual exuberant chuckle. Her sister also wouldn’t quite meet her gaze.

What was going on here?

‘He has been helping me with the play,’ Thalia said.

‘Only the play?’

Thalia shrugged. ‘He has also been working with Father at the villa. Father is most impressed with his knowledge of ancient architecture.’

‘Well, I see you have
all
been busy while I was gone!’

‘We had to do something to occupy ourselves. Lady Riverton hasn’t been entertaining at all, and the Duke of Averton was gone. To Palermo, they say.’ Thalia peered closely at her. ‘Did you know about that? The Duke being gone, I mean.’

‘I…’ Clio instinctively opened her mouth to deny any knowledge of the Duke’s whereabouts, but then she shook her head. Had she not determined to stop sheltering her sister? To stop lying, and admit when she needed help. Admit everything.

Almost
everything, anyway.

‘Actually, yes. I did know,’ Clio said. She took Thalia’s hand, turning with her back towards the stage. ‘I need to talk to you and Marco about something important.’

‘I can scarcely believe it!’ Thalia exclaimed.

‘It is indeed a strange tale,’ Clio admitted. Her sister and Marco sat in rapt silence as she told her story, minus the personal bits in the cottage, of course. Now they burst into questions. ‘Lady Riverton, the Duke asking for help…’

‘Oh, no, Clio,’ Thalia said. ‘The wonder is that
you
ask for
my
help.’

‘Why would I not? There is surely no one else who knows more about putting on theatricals.’

‘That is true,’ Marco agreed. ‘She is a stern stage manager indeed. But how did the Duke come to suspect Lady Riverton in the first place?’

‘Did
you
suspect her?’ Clio asked him. ‘Is she the reason you came here to Santa Lucia?’

Marco shrugged. ‘I thought she might know something of the silver. Such a find would be very valuable, and there are rumours she has considerable debts. People say she was in Florence for a time, but had to leave in a great hurry.’

‘Probably she owed her milliner,’ Thalia said wryly. ‘It will be a vast pleasure to help see her come to justice!’

‘You will do it, then?’ Clio asked.

‘Certainly. I already have an idea for a scene we could use. But…’

‘But what?’

Thalia glanced at Marco from the corner of her eye. ‘Nothing. We should get home, Clio, before it grows even darker. Father will be surprised to see you.’

‘You’re right, of course. We can meet here tomorrow to finalise our plans.’ Clio watched as Thalia gathered up the scattered pages of her script, her white skirts and red shawl fluttering in the breeze.

She noticed that Marco watched, too, his dark eyes solemn as they followed Thalia’s pretty figure.

‘If you hurt her in any way,’ she whispered fiercely in his ear, ‘I shall make you very sorry.’

Marco gave a startled laugh. ‘
Cara
, when it comes to your sister I think the one you should worry about is
me
.’

‘I mean it, Marco. Thalia likes to flirt, but she has a good, kind heart, and she cares so deeply. She’s not like you, with your great causes and sacrifices.’

‘What makes you think I do not care deeply? I can see the worth of a person, Clio, just as well as I see the value of an Etruscan vase.’ He pushed himself to his feet, stalking over to help Thalia gather her papers.

Clio stared after them, feeling suddenly dizzy. A lot
had
happened in the short time she had been gone, in the world around her as well as in her very own heart.

Whatever would she find at home? Her father married? Cory betrothed? She shuddered to think of it all.