The baroness laughed a low and smoky laugh. “I shall consider it,” she said.
“I would gift your husband with the painting,” the artist murmured.
“I am a widow, maestro,” Irina Von Kreutzenkampe answered him, and then she moved away.
“And this is Lord MacDuff, the ambassador from King James of Scotland,” the duke continued, sorry that the previous conversation had been ended.
Lord MacDuff bowed, nodded, and moved on.
“And the Earl of Glenkirk, who was King James’ first ambassador to me many years ago. He has returned this winter with his companion to escape the cold. May I present Lady Rosamund Bolton of Friarsgate,” the duke said.
The earl bowed, but the artist’s eyes went past him to fix themselves on Rosamund.
“You are beautiful, Madonna,” he said softly.
“Grazia, maestro,”Rosamund responded. She was beginning to learn the Italian language now.
“I shall paint you, too,” the artist said enthusiastically. “You, I shall envision as the goddess of love, Madonna. Do not say no to me.”
Rosamund laughed lightly. “You flatter me, maestro,” she said.
“But you have not said yes,” he cried.
“I have not, have I?” she answered him, and then, taking Patrick’s arm she moved off.
“You flirted with him,” the earl said, sounding slightly aggrieved.
“I did,” she agreed, “but I did not say I should allow him to paint me with my breasts bare or otherwise.” And Rosamund laughed.
“If it would help me to gain my ends with Venice, would you?” he asked wickedly.
“Yes!” she told him. “Yes, I would, Patrick! He wants to seduce me, you know. But before or after he has had his way with the baroness I am not certain,” she giggled.
He laughed. “You are probably right. Now, the baroness interests me very much. My information tells me that she is the daughter of one of Emperor Maximilian’s contemporaries. She comes to San Lorenzo each winter. MacDuff thinks she is the emperor’s eyes and ears here, for the duke is much in favor with the Germans, who visit his port on a regular basis. Who would suspect a woman of spying?”
“She is very beautiful,” Rosamund noted.
“If you like large-bosomed women with gold hair, blue eyes, and an inviting smile,” Patrick said mischievously.
“Well, she has had her eye on you this evening,” Rosamund muttered, “but don’t you think she is a bit, er, large?”
“These Germanic woman tend to be big-boned,” he replied. “They make a right armful, I am told. Are you jealous, my love?”
“Of the baroness? No more than you are of the Venetian, my lord,” Rosamund responded smoothly. And she looked up at her lover and smiled.
Before he might reply, however, the lady in question glided to his side. “My lord Leslie,” she said. “I believe there are matters we must discuss soon. When may we speak?”
Close up, Rosamund could see the baroness’ face was lightly pockmarked. She did not speak to the earl’s companion.
“My ambassador will be giving a small feast in a few days. You will be invited, madame, and there we may speak with each other in the privacy of the embassy and not arouse suspicions by doing so,” the Earl of Glenkirk told her.
She held out her plump hand to him. “That is suitable,” she said.
“I shall look forward to our next meeting,” he murmured, kissing her hand.
“I did not know Lord MacDuff was giving a feast in a few days’ time,” Rosamund said.
“Neither does MacDuff,” the earl replied with a grin. “I would prefer it if I could speak with Venice first. That is why you will tell the artist that you are considering his invitation but that you would like to see his studio first. I will come with you. If he is our man, he will use that opportunity to approach me. Our visit to his studio will not arouse anyone’s suspicions. Neither will the baroness’ visit to the embassy for a feast.”
