Venetia nodded. “And the duration of this masquerade?”
“Perhaps two hours,” Edward replied, hating himself for the hope that colored his voice. “Enough time for her to visit her… friend… while her grandfather believes her safely engaged with her music instructor.”
A moment of silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant cry of a fruit vendor navigating the canal in his laden gondola.
“Mr. Rothbury,” she said at last, turning to meet his gaze directly, “may I speak frankly?”
“Of course,” he replied, though her serious tone filled him with apprehension.
Nothing good ever followed “may I speak frankly.” It was practically a law of nature.
“Yesterday, when you first presented this request, I reacted with what I now recognize as selfish concern for my own reputation. But upon reflection, I find myself troubled by different considerationsaltogether.” She paused, clearly choosing her words with care. “You know Signorina Sofia better than I. In your estimation, is she… that is, do you believe her motivations are entirely what they appear?”
Edward felt as though she’d struck directly at the heart of his own mounting concerns. “What makes you ask such a thing?” he replied carefully, unwilling to voice his own doubts but curious about the source of hers.
Venetia hesitated, her gaze drifting to where a pair of gondoliers were engaged in animated conversation as their boats passed. “Perhaps it’s merely that I’ve learned to be wary of situations that seem… too convenient. Two years ago, I was nearly destroyed by someone who presented themselves as no threat while harboring entirely different intentions.” She returned her attention to Edward, her expression earnest. “I suppose I’ve developed an unfortunate tendency to question motives that once I would have accepted at face value.”
Edward felt a chill that had nothing to do with the palazzo’s shadow above them. Venetia’s past experience with Lord Windermere’s deception had obviously left her with sharper instincts for detecting duplicity—instincts now alerting her to potential danger in Sofia’s seemingly straightforward request.
Instincts that were, unfortunately, probably correct.
“Your caution is entirely understandable,” he said slowly. “And I confess that I, too, have found myself… questioning certain aspects of the situation.”
“Then why do you continue to assist her?” Venetia asked, and Edward heard genuine curiosity rather than accusation in her voice.
The question pierced to the core of his moral dilemma, and Edward found himself trapped between honesty and the protection of his own dignity.
“I suppose,” he said carefully, “that I’m not entirely immune to appeals to my… sympathetic nature. And once I’d given my word to assist her, I found it difficult to withdraw that support without compelling evidence of actual wrongdoing. That is, having satisfied myself that you, yourself, would be in no danger.”
Venetia studied his face with an intensity that made him distinctly uncomfortable. He had the unsettling sensation she was reading far more in his expression than he intended to reveal.
“There’s another consideration,” she said quietly. “During Signorina Sofia’s masquerade, where will I go? I assume there are potential spies who’ll want to be satisfied she’s going where expected—to her music master.”
“That’s correct. You’ll be accompanied by Signorina Sofia’s maid, Caterina.”
“And you, Mr. Rothbury? Surely you have a responsibility to also accompany me in case of unforeseen circumstances?”
Was she aware of the undercurrent of attraction that seemed to complicate every interaction between them? That made it difficult to speak candidly?
“If you wish me to accompany you, I would gladly do so.”
Gladly. Enthusiastically. With unseemly eagerness, actually.
Venetia’s smile held a quality he couldn’t quite decipher—was it disappointment? Relief? Amusement at his obvious discomfort?
Probably the latter.
“Very well then,” she said, rising from the stone steps with the grace of someone who’d just won a subtle negotiation. “I shall meet Signorina Sofia tomorrow as arranged, and I will depart with her maid, giving the impression she’s going to her music lesson. And then, Mr. Rothbury…” She paused, looking down at him with a smile tugging at her lips. “I will look forward to you bearing me company during the time Signorina Sofia is otherwise occupied.”
His heart lurched unexpectedly. Two hours at the very minimum in this angel’s company? It was more of a bargain than he’d realized.
A bargain that involved deception, potential scandal, and probably about seventeen different ways this could go catastrophically wrong. But two hours with Venetia!
His priorities were clearly in shambles. He’d address that later.
“If that is what you wish, Miss Playford,” he said carefully.
She nodded. “It is.”
