Seated beside him in the gondola’s intimate confines—with her maid positioned far enough away to preserve propriety but not so close as to actually hear anything—conversation turned to childhood, family tragedy, and the subsequent trials under Aunt Pike’s guardianship.The gondola glided through narrow canals flanked by palazzos whose weathered marble facades rose directly from emerald-tinted water.
Venetia closed her eyes briefly, savoring the cooling breeze and distant church bells. “To speak freely of both the joys of my childhood and the challenges under Aunt Pike creates such a sense of… connection.”
She’d chosen her words carefully, hoping he might interpret them as encouragement to take her hand. What remained eloquently unspoken was the crucial rolehe’dplayed in her liberation.
Mr. Rothbury’s expression softened as she opened her eyes and sent him what she hoped was an encouraging look.
“You endured unconscionable treatment, Miss Playford. I am so happy to see you now flourishing.” He reached across to briefly touch her forearm—a gesture of solidarity that sent such a jolt through Venetia that she barely suppressed the impulse to capture his hand and press it against her racing heart.
“Flourishing… because of your intervention,” she managed, feeling warmth flood her cheeks at such boldness. When he didn’t respond immediately, she pressed forward with reckless determination. “When you appeared at Lady Townsend’s Comet Viewing Gala astride that magnificent stallion like some hero from ancient legend, bringing word of my inheritance just as Lord Windermere was preparing to whisk me into that balloon—” She lowered her voice. “You, Mr. Rothbury, are the very reason I’m able to flourish.”
He shifted uncomfortably on the velvet cushions. “You attribute far more significance to my actions than they merit. I was merely fortune’s instrument. Felicitous timing, nothing more. You would have inherited regardless.”
Venetia wished he’d acknowledge greater personal investment in her welfare. With perhaps fifteen minutes before they must return, she needed to encourage him past hisnatural reserve.
Clearing her throat delicately and resting her hand on the cushion mere inches from his, she began with more audacity than she’d known she possessed: “Yesterday you indicated there was some matter you wished to discuss.”
“Ah, yes. Indeed.” He suddenly appeared profoundly uncomfortable. “I have a most delicate request.”
Here it comes!
“Then pray make it, Mr. Rothbury,” Venetia encouraged, her heart performing acrobatics. “I’m certain I shall be favorably disposed to hear whatever you wish to say.” She placed her hand on his coat sleeve—well-tailored but showing age, perhaps not cut in the latest fashion.
She noted these details because newfound wealth had awakened an appreciation for luxury previously suppressed during years of privation. Not that Mr. Rothbury needed expensive tailoring—his keen intellect and fundamental kindness distinguished him far more effectively than sartorial splendor.
Nevertheless, she’d gladly outfit him in London’s finest if he’d permit such generosity.Wouldhis pride make her wealth an insurmountable barrier?
“With your permission, Miss Playford, I shall proceed,” he said, looking like a man approaching the gallows rather than declaring devotion.
Nerves. Perfectly natural.
“Nothing you might ask could ever be an imposition!” Venetia gazed at his beautifully shaped mouth, imagining sensations his lips might evoke. There was nothing she desired more at this moment.
“You truly are the most generous-spirited young woman I’ve encountered,” he said awkwardly.
“Generosity is hardly required for a proposition that’s noble and well-intentioned,” she assured him, pulse racing. “What do you wish to ask?”
Mr. Rothbury’s fingers drummed nervously against the gondola’sbrass fitting. With a deep breath, he began: “The matter concerns Signorina Sofia—”
Venetia’s sharp intake of breath might have given him pause, but he pressed forward with grim determination.
Oh no.
“She finds herself in trying circumstances, and I’ve given my word to assist.”
The words struck like a physical blow. “You’ve promised to aid Signorina Sofia,” she repeated slowly, voice scarcely audible above the gondolier’s oar, “andthisis why you requested this private meeting?”
Only iron discipline instilled by years enduring Aunt Pike’s cruelties enabled her to maintain composure.
“And precisely how,” she continued with barely controlled emotion, “do you propose I assist Signorina Sofia?”
Of course. Of course it’s about her. The golden-haired, dainty paragon.
“As I mentioned, you bear a striking resemblance to the young lady,” Mr. Rothbury continued, seemingly oblivious to her distress. “Your exquisite golden tresses and your—” His gaze traveled involuntarily to her décolletage, whereupon he colored violently and averted his eyes. “Your general… proportions are remarkably similar. Signorina Sofia hopes you might lend perhaps twenty minutes to effect a temporary substitution. Don her clothing, step into a gondola, depart toward her music master’s residence while her grandfather observes—”
“So Signorina Sofia may slip away undetected to meet her lover?” Venetia concluded with savage clarity, eyes desperately seeking a nearby landing stage.
Her lover. Who was presumably the man currently blushing beside her in this ridiculously romantic gondola.
