Читать книгу The Defiant Mistress - Claire Thornton - Страница 10

‘M y lord, the banquet is about to start!’ The young page bounced on his toes as he waited for Gabriel to pay off the hired gondola.

‘Banquet?’ Gabriel frowned. This was the first he’d heard of any banquet.

‘In honour of Mrs Beresford and Mrs Quenell,’ the page explained eagerly. ‘Come, my lord. Sir Walter sent me down to wait for your return. You are the most important guest!’

Gabriel bit off a curse. He had no desire to raise a glass in honour of Frances—but the meal would be over soon enough.

‘I’m likely the only guest,’ he said drily, striding beside the page through the andron, the ground-floor hallway that corresponded to the portego on the floor above.

Venetian citizens such as Filippo Correr were permitted to deal directly with foreigners, but the nobility refused to mingle with visitors to their city. The Ambassador was only able to meet with the Doge and other important patricians in the most restricted and formal of circumstances. Usually the embassy household had to rely on each other for companionship—though not necessarily for entertainment. Venice had many attractions for men in search of diversion. But it wasn’t surprising Sir Walter had seized on this excuse for a grand dinner.

‘Yes, my lord. But you are a very important guest,’ said the page.

True to his usual habit, Gabriel took the steps two at a time, arriving in the portego before the breathless servant. He paused just inside the door. The long chamber was crowded with members of the Ambassador’s staff. Roger Minshull, the Ambassador’s chief secretary, the two undersecretaries, one of whom was Edward Beresford, the chaplain, various young gentlemen who were supposedly being trained in the art of diplomacy…

Frances.

Gabriel’s eyes locked on to her immediately. But that meant nothing. She was one of only two women present. Naturally she drew his attention.

‘Halross! Splendid!’ Sir Walter spotted him. ‘In good time! We are having a banquet in honour of our gallant new arrivals.’

‘So I see.’ In Gabriel’s absence the portego had been transformed into a dining chamber with the addition of a large, magnificently laid table and finely carved chairs. ‘Most impressive.’

‘Yes. Yes. Come, my lord. You must sit on my right. Mrs Beresford on my left…’ The Ambassador immediately began to arrange his most important guests.

Gabriel saw that he was to sit almost opposite to Frances. He would be able to see her every move throughout the meal. She glanced at him, then looked quickly away. Her fingers fidgeted briefly with her closed fan, then her grip on the ivory sticks relaxed. She turned to smile at Roger Minshull who was sitting on her left. Minshull spoke to her and she replied in a light, untroubled tone. Gabriel saw that the ferret-faced secretary was already halfway to being besotted by his beautiful companion.

Frances’s composure grated on Gabriel’s temper. If she had any shame or conscience she would be begging him not to disclose her treacherous behaviour eight years ago. She must know it would take only one word from him to destroy her credibility with the Ambassador. For a few seconds Gabriel almost felt a grudging admiration for her obvious determination to brazen out the situation. There must be a backbone of steel concealed within her graceful feminine curves. Then his painfully acquired cynicism reasserted itself. In truth, it required no great courage for Frances to continue her masquerade. She was undoubtedly relying on his reluctance to reveal his youthful folly to the world. And she was right. He had no intention of providing any further entertainment for the embassy household. From now on he would treat her with the indifference she deserved.

‘It is a testament to the power of love,’ said the chaplain.

‘What?’ Gabriel’s head snapped around.

‘Mrs Beresford’s epic journey to rejoin her husband, my lord,’ the chaplain replied. ‘I have never seen two young people more truly matched. True love can overcome the greatest obstacles.’ He looked at Rachel Beresford with sentimental admiration. Gabriel followed the direction of the chaplain’s gaze.

Rachel noticed their attention was fixed upon her and blushed. ‘I could never have managed without Mrs Quenell’s help,’ she said. ‘I was so overset by the time I reached Bruges that I don’t know what I would have done if the innkeeper hadn’t taken me to the convent. After that Mrs Quenell took care of everything. I will never be able to repay her for what she has done for me.’

‘Nor I,’ Edward Beresford interjected. ‘I will always be in your debt, madam. It gives me nightmares, imagining what could have happened to my poor Rachel without your protection. And that of Mr Breydel as well, of course,’ he added. ‘I am sorry he was not able to attend this banquet.’

Gabriel hid his opinion beneath an impassive expression. The others might believe Frances’s story that she’d been a guest at the convent for a considerable time, but Gabriel knew better. She’d lied to him eight years ago, and it seemed she hadn’t lost her talent for telling plausible untruths. Frances had certainly been serving her own ends when she adopted the role of guardian angel to Rachel Beresford. No doubt she was between patrons and, just like Rachel, had taken temporary refuge in the convent. Now she was on the lookout for a new protector. The Ambassador must have told her he had a noble guest without mentioning Gabriel’s name. What a shock Frances must have had when she discovered the wealthy man she’d selected as her next victim was someone she’d duped already. Gabriel had no intention of playing her fool again.

Frances acknowledged Edward Beresford’s gratitude with a modest smile and a quiet word of thanks, but she continued her conversation with Minshull. She had changed her gown since that morning. The blue dress had been very becoming to her fair beauty, but the primrose silk taffeta revealed even more of her charms. The wide neckline showed off to perfection the graceful curve of her shoulders. It was trimmed all about with a broad lace collar more than six inches deep. A length of such fine, wide lace would have been expensive. Who was the man who had paid for the silk gown and costly lace she wore with such self-assurance? And why was she no longer with him?

‘Amazing coincidence, meeting Mrs Quenell again in Venice,’ the Ambassador remarked cheerfully.

‘What?’ Gabriel stared at the Ambassador. ‘You knew her before?’

‘Who? What?’ Sir Walter looked confused by Gabriel’s sharp question. ‘Not me!’ he exclaimed, his expression clearing. ‘I meant you, my lord.’ He laughed. ‘Must have been quite a surprise for both of you. Mrs Quenell was telling me.’

‘Telling you?’ Gabriel looked at Frances through narrowed eyes. She was even more brazen than he’d supposed. Perhaps it was time to call her bluff. ‘Indeed, yes. We were acquainted years ago,’ he said coldly. ‘But so long ago I confess I’ve forgotten the details. Perhaps you would be kind enough to remind me… Mrs Quenell.’

Her naturally fair skin grew even paler as he watched. He saw her swallow, then she looked directly at him. In that instant her eyes were the eyes of the girl he’d loved eight years ago—filled with hurt and confusion. Her unguarded blue gaze found an unexpected chink in his armour-plating of cold disdain. He looked away first, shaken by memories he’d tried so hard to destroy.

‘Of course. Your reunion this morning was cut short when you met one of your merchant acquaintances,’ said the Ambassador. ‘A very inopportune interruption.’

Gabriel realised the whole table had fallen silent. A quick sideways glance informed him that everyone was waiting more or less openly to hear about his previous friendship with Frances. He should have known his behaviour that morning would arouse curiosity.

‘Mrs Quenell,’ he challenged her, his voice deadly soft. ‘Your memory is obviously so much clearer than mine. Please. Remind me of our last meeting.’

The occasion when she’d laughed and consigned him to a ditch. He stared at her, daring her to admit her perfidious behaviour. As he watched, she summoned a smile to her lips that didn’t reach her eyes.

‘I fear I don’t remember our last meeting, my lord,’ she replied lightly. ‘But I do recall our first.’

‘Really? I made more impression on you at the beginning of our acquaintance than I did at the end? What a damning indictment of my address.’ He paused briefly. ‘But I believe I am harder to overlook now,’ he concluded, a diamond-hard edge to his voice.

‘You certainly appear grander than you did when serving behind the counter in the silk mercer’s,’ Frances snapped. ‘I vow, when I first saw you this morning decked out in velvet and lace, I scarcely recognised you.’

Further down the table Gabriel heard a gasp. Behind his back he was known as the Merchant Marquis, but very few men had the gall to call him that to his face.

Frances’s sharp response brought a feral smile to his lips—while at the same moment he felt the barest lessening of tension in his muscles. He remembered her occasional hot temper. So that at least had been real—even if everything else had been an act.

He recalled their first meeting in Sir Thomas Parfitt’s mercer’s shop. It was pure accident Gabriel had been present when Frances came in to make a purchase. Even as a young apprentice he had been employed in Parfitt’s warehouses, not in the shop on Cheapside. But as soon as he’d seen Frances he’d stepped forward to serve her—much to the amusement of Lady Parfitt, who kept the shop for her husband. And then he’d followed Frances home, just so he could arrange another, accidental meeting with her. God, what a young fool he’d been.

‘We both seem to have improved our condition in life,’ he said, his eyes on the wide fall of expensive lace about her shoulders.

‘You have certainly changed,’ she retorted. ‘Whether it is an improvement remains to be seen.’

The chaplain gasped. Someone lower down the table laughed and quickly converted it to a cough. A gleam of satisfaction suddenly appeared in Roger Minshull’s eyes. He moved so that he presented a subtle, but unmistakable shoulder to Gabriel and engaged Frances once more in conversation.

Athena barely heard a word Minshull said to her. She had forgotten her resolution to keep the uncomfortably attentive secretary at a distance because all her attention was focused on Gabriel. Her face ached with the effort of preserving an untroubled expression. She could feel Gabriel’s hard gaze upon her. He’d left her in no doubt of his contempt. His silent hostility threatened to suffocate her. They were separated by the width of the table, but every tiny movement of his powerful body flicked across her raw nerves. She forced herself to smile at Minshull while her thoughts whirled frantically this way and that. Why had Gabriel turned against her?

She forced herself to eat a little of the feast laid on partly in her honour, but the last mouthful stuck in her throat. She struggled to swallow. A wild image of choking to death at the Ambassador’s table danced in her mind. Her fingers closed desperately around her goblet. The wine helped. She took several sips, then set the goblet down. She dare not cloud her wits with the heady liquid.

She risked a fleeting glance at Gabriel. His amber eyes widened briefly when they encountered hers, then narrowed warningly. Athena felt the jolt of a sizzling connection between them. Her breath caught in her throat. Shaken, she ripped her eyes away from him, picked up her goblet with trembling fingers and put it to her lips. She closed her eyes as she drank, taking temporary refuge in the illusion that she could hide behind the goblet.

But there was no escape. Minshull was already asking her a question about the convent at Bruges. She composed herself to reply, astonished that her voice sounded so calm.

What had happened to Gabriel? She remembered so clearly the day they’d met. He had not been hard and angry then. He’d been tall and handsome and full of open-hearted vigour. From the second she’d entered the mercer’s shop her eyes had been drawn to him. When he’d stepped forward to serve her she’d been so overwhelmed that at first she’d forgotten what she wanted to buy. At last she remembered and stammered out her request, feeling foolish and embarrassed. But by then she’d seen the admiration and interest in his eyes. She was used to men looking at her with lust-filled intent—she’d fled from her childhood home to escape just such a man—but Gabriel’s male admiration didn’t repulse her. The fluttering of nervous excitement he aroused within her had been entirely pleasurable.

He still drew all her attention. He was more handsome and compelling than ever. She wished she could look at him to her heart’s content. Trace every change time had wrought upon him. From the corner of her eye she could see his hand lying upon the table. It was the same hand that had touched her so long ago. Yet it seemed somehow different. It was familiar in all its lineaments, but it almost seemed like the hand of a stranger.

‘What a lucky circumstance that you already know his lordship, Mrs Quenell,’ said the Ambassador suddenly. ‘It is so much more comfortable to travel with an old friend rather than a stranger,’ he continued.

His comment nearly destroyed the remnants of Athena’s composure. She’d been so overwhelmed by the shock of seeing Gabriel again she had forgotten he was to escort her back to England. She instinctively shied away from the prospect.

‘As to that, we have not yet discussed arrangements,’ she hurried into speech. ‘As I mentioned, his lordship met an acquaintance before we had a chance to do so. It may not be convenient—’

‘I am sure we can come to an arrangement that will be mutually satisfactory,’ Gabriel interrupted, a dark, enigmatic note in his voice.

Athena’s eyes snapped to his face. He tilted his head to look directly into hers. For several seconds she forgot to breathe.

‘If the arrangement is not to your liking we can make alternative travel plans for you, Mrs Quenell,’ said Minshull. ‘I will deal with it first thing in the morning.’

Gabriel turned almost lazily to look at the secretary. ‘Don’t trouble yourself,’ he said, his words a devastating command, not an assurance.

It seemed to Athena that she was not the only person holding her breath as she waited for Minshull to respond. There was no other conversation at the table. Gabriel held everyone’s attention.

‘I… I… Mrs Quenell?’ The red-faced secretary turned towards her.

‘Thank you for your kindness, Mr Minshull,’ she said, trying to give him a dignified way to back away from the confrontation. ‘But I have barely been in Venice a day. I’m not yet sure myself what arrangements I wish to make. You may be sure I’ll call upon you for help if I need to do so.’

‘Yes. Yes. Of course. At any time,’ he said.

A brief, cold smile curved Gabriel’s lips at the secretary’s words. Then he turned to say something to the Ambassador, quite clearly dismissing Minshull from his attention.

The meal continued. Athena longed to escape to the privacy of her chamber, but she knew that if she did so it would arouse even more curiosity among the Ambassador’s household. So she smiled and nodded and exchanged inconsequential remarks until Sir Walter suddenly declared a desire to dance.

The table was moved, chairs placed against the walls of the portego and a trio of musicians struck up a lively tune. As the only two women present, Athena and Rachel Beresford were obliged to dance every measure. Athena guessed from the fixed smile on the younger woman’s face that she was as uncomfortable with the situation as Athena. Rachel wanted to be alone with her husband. Failing that, she wanted to dance with her husband. But since Edward Beresford’s career depended on the Ambassador’s goodwill, neither he nor his wife had any choice but to acquiesce to Sir Walter’s pleasure.

Athena had never in her life danced in public. She had never had occasion to do so. She gritted her teeth, tried to watch Rachel whenever she could, and did her best to move through the steps without making a total fool of herself.

Gabriel didn’t invite either woman to dance. At first he leant against the wall and watched, his gaze inscrutable. Athena took care not to glance in his direction, though her consciousness of his scrutiny made her feel flustered and clumsy. After half an hour she became aware of a sudden absence. She looked around and discovered that Gabriel had disappeared.

His departure left her with a sense of an anticlimax. It also seemed to lead to an increased exuberance in the mood of everyone else. The impromptu ball became more boisterous. At last Edward Beresford pleaded weariness on behalf of his wife after her long journey and they left the chamber.

Athena found herself alone among a crowd of increasingly inebriated gentlemen. Without Gabriel’s brooding presence several of them, most notably Roger Minshull, became more familiar in their advances. Gabriel’s treatment of her had undermined her status in the men’s eyes. The previous day they had been inclined to treat her as if her years in the convent had given her the untouchable sanctity of a nun. This evening they were more prone to cross those invisible boundaries.

Athena knew she couldn’t afford to linger. Even though she might have to endure no more than a lewd question or two about her past friendship with Gabriel, and perhaps an inappropriately intimate caress, any sign that she was complacent about such treatment would quickly undermine her reputation and her status.

She paid the Ambassador several graceful compliments about the dinner and the subsequent entertainment he had arranged and left the portego as speedily as good manners would allow. After the last exchange of courtesies with a persistent Minshull, she escaped on to the external staircase.

The cool night air felt like balm on her overheated face. The friendly darkness was a relief after the strain of maintaining her public composure for so long. She paused for a moment to enjoy the pleasure of being alone. A burst of laughter from the portego prompted her to climb a few steps to avoid any possibility of one of the revellers noticing her and perhaps deciding to join her on the privacy of the stairs.

She walked up another few steps.

Suddenly all her senses screamed a warning. She hadn’t seen or heard anything, but a dark shape swooped on her from the shadows. Strong arms wrapped around her in an unbreakable hold. Her heart thudded so loudly she hardly heard his soft-voiced command to be quiet, but she didn’t need to hear his voice to know it was Gabriel. Even in the darkness she recognised his familiar, once-beloved scent, and the feel of his hard body close to hers.

He swept her off her feet and carried her down the stairs. Athena thought of struggling, but their discovery was more likely to cause her embarrassment than result in her rescue. Besides, despite his undisguised hostility towards her, she knew Gabriel would never hurt her. And she had questions for him. As soon as they were alone she wanted some answers.

A few moments later she found herself once more seated in Gabriel’s gondola. This time the curtains were drawn, enclosing her in a black velvet cocoon lit only by a single lantern. Gabriel swiftly joined her. His tall, broad-shouldered frame made the small cabin seem even smaller.

‘Why are you so angry?’ Athena demanded, before he’d even had a chance to lean back in the reclining seat beside her.

‘What?’

‘You didn’t even turn up at the church!’ Furious indignation vibrated in her voice. ‘You sailed off to Aleppo two weeks later without a backward glance! How dare you treat me with such contempt!’

‘How dare I…?’ Gabriel half-turned on to his side so that he could stare directly into her face. His blazing eyes were only inches from hers. ‘Harlot! I saw you with your lover. Did it amuse you to know I watched? You laughed when that bastard knocked me cold! But I’m not the callow boy I was then. You won’t fool me again with your lies.’

His accusation was so unexpected that, for a few seconds, Athena could hardly think straight.

‘What lover? I never had a lover!’ She found her voice. ‘You’re the one who’s lying! If you never meant to marry me—’

‘In the bawdy house!’ In an instant Gabriel was stretched half on top of her, the tip of his nose almost touching hers. ‘I saw him drink from the very spot your lips had touched. I saw you smile at him and lift your mouth for his kiss. I saw—’

‘Samuel?’ Athena gasped. For a moment she was back in that hateful room, afraid and longing for Gabriel to rescue her. ‘You saw?’ Her memories disintegrated beneath a mist of red-hot fury. ‘You saw and you didn’t help me! How could you? How could you?’ She pounded her fists at him, hitting wildly at his shoulders and chest, catching him a blow on his cheek, fighting him as she’d never fought Samuel. Blind to everything but memories of the nightmare she’d endured for Gabriel’s sake and her sense of bitter betrayal that he’d seen and done nothing to help her. She didn’t hear the shouts and curses of the gondoliers as they tried to prevent the gondola from overturning.

Gabriel swore. He pinned down her flailing legs with the weight of his own body and seized her forearms in his hands. He pressed her wrists against the black velvet behind her head.

Athena glared up at him through the untidy mess of her hair. ‘You monster!’ she panted. ‘How could you be so cruel? How could I have been so stupid as to love you!’

Gabriel laughed savagely. ‘Love had nothing to do with it! You saw a likely pigeon and played me along until a richer prize came your way.’

‘Richer…?’ Athena stared at him. The pressure of his body forcing her against the reclining seat meant that at least one of the bones in her tightly laced bodice pressed painfully into her side, restricting her breathing. He held her arms prisoner above her head. But he hadn’t hurt her.

His hair was dishevelled. The lace at his throat was torn and she saw scratches on his chin where her nails must have caught him. There was a mark on his left cheek from the blows she had rained about his shoulders and head. But he hadn’t hurt her.

She’d never fought Samuel. She’d known instinctively that if she did he would beat her so badly she might not survive. Tonight, driven by long-held feelings of pain and betrayal, she’d struck out wildly at Gabriel—but he’d not made any attempt to retaliate. She must have known—even after everything that had happened—she must have known on some deep, instinctive level she was safe with Gabriel.

‘He told me you didn’t go to the church,’ she whispered. ‘He told me you didn’t even know I hadn’t gone.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Samuel. Samuel Quenell. My…’ She hesitated, hating even now to refer to Samuel in such terms. ‘My husband.’

‘Your husband?’

‘How could you have seen us? How did you know where we were?’ She searched Gabriel’s face for an answer. ‘Why didn’t you help me?’

‘Help you?’ he jeered. ‘You seemed more than satisfied with your lot.’

‘You did go to the church,’ Athena breathed. ‘He lied to me.’

‘Don’t think you’ll cozen me with your fairy tales,’ Gabriel said. ‘I have seen the evidence of your true character with my own eyes.’

‘Your eyes are blind if you think I was happy to be with Samuel!’ she flung at him, hurt and insulted anew by his scepticism. ‘How did you know where to find us?’

‘I’m getting tired of your evasions, Frances,’ Gabriel said harshly. ‘You know damn well you sent a messenger to find me in the church.’

‘A messenger? Who?’

‘You know, what with having his knife pressed against my belly and then grinding his face into the plaster to teach him respect, we never did take the time for polite introductions,’ Gabriel said sarcastically. ‘He had the last laugh however. He caught me unawares when…’ he paused and gritted his teeth ‘…when I saw you and your pimp.’

Athena gazed at him. The Gabriel she’d nearly married eight years ago had been honourable, occasionally hot-headed and always direct. The Gabriel holding her captive had not changed so very much in essentials. He had no reason to lie about what had happened. The truth was too damaging to his pride and self-esteem.

‘Samuel lied to both of us,’ she said bleakly.

‘I am impressed by your resourcefulness, madam. Not to mention your tenacity in holding to a story in the face of all the evidence against you.’

‘There was supposed to be evidence against me.’ Athena suddenly felt tired. Had everything Samuel had told her been a lie? She remembered the scrap of letter implicating Gabriel in a plot to kill Cromwell. That at least must have been real. She’d recognised Gabriel’s writing immediately. As it had turned out, there had been no need to kill Cromwell because he’d died of natural causes a few months later. After Gabriel had written the letter the plotters must have come to the conclusion that time would complete their task for them. That there were other, better ways to further the King’s cause.

‘The greatest evidence of all is your willing compliance in your pimp’s arms.’ Gabriel’s gritty voice cut across her reflections.

‘I had no choice—’

‘No choice? No choice but to offer your lips to him, allow him to mumble at your breast with his mouth like—’

‘Do you think I liked that? I wanted to rip his guts out!’

‘Words! Words!’

‘He told me if I didn’t marry him—’ She broke off staring at Gabriel’s flinty, cynical expression. The bitter sense of betrayal that he’d seen her with Samuel but hadn’t helped her still gnawed at her soul. His disbelief in her explanations wounded her deeply. She could not bear to admit she’d married Samuel to save Gabriel himself. Couldn’t make herself so vulnerable to him when he treated her with such disdain.

‘He caught me on the eve of our wedding,’ she said. ‘I was so sure I’d escaped him—but he was hiding in the shadows by the courtyard. He dragged me into the parlour and told me…’ she swallowed, remembering the sickening horror she’d experienced then ‘…told me he’d taken Aunt Kitty. She was…she was the guarantee that I’d marry him willingly. He wouldn’t hurt her if I did.’

‘And you just gave yourself up without protest. Without even trying to send for help?’ Gabriel said scornfully. ‘Do you think I’d have let him hurt Kitty if I’d known? Or you? How could you be so feckless?’

‘Feckless!’ To hear her sacrifice described in such contemptuous terms infuriated Athena. Even though she’d decided not to tell Gabriel that her primary motive had been to save his life, it still hurt that he dismissed her plight so lightly.

‘Get off me!’ She jerked her body in an effort to throw him off. The gondola rocked, but her efforts made no impression on Gabriel. She winced and caught her breath in sudden pain.

‘Why do you flinch? I’m not hurting you at all.’ He frowned at her.

‘A bone in my bodice has broken, you great lummocking bully!’ She glared at him. ‘It wasn’t intended for this kind of treatment.’

‘Hmm.’ He adjusted his position on top of her carefully. Athena didn’t realise until he released her hands and flipped her over beneath him that he’d been taking care he wasn’t kneeling on her petticoats. She found her cheek pressed down on the velvet upholstery.

‘What are you doing?’ Alarm skittered through her as she felt his hands at her back.

‘Relieving you of pain, madam harlot.’

‘What?’ An instant later she knew exactly what he was doing. ‘No!’ She braced her hands against the seat and tried to push upwards.

Gabriel held her still with his thighs around her hips and one firm hand between her shoulder blades. With his other he unfastened the bodice her maid had so diligently laced her into before dinner.

‘No. Please!’ she begged desperately, as the tight-fitting bodice fell away from her body. ‘Please God, don’t!’