Edward rubbed his temples, where the persistent ache from his recent injuries seemed to throb in rhythm with histroubled thoughts, before approaching footsteps in the palazzo’s marble corridor interrupted his brooding, followed by the soft knock he’d come to recognize as Sofia’s distinctive demand for attention.
Edward sighed, hastily folding the Foreign Office letter and securing it in his desk drawer.
“Entrate,” he called, and Sofia swept into his chamber with her usual graceful confidence, wearing an afternoon dress of rose silk, her golden curls arranged in an elaborate coiffure.
“Signor Edward!” she exclaimed with warmth. “I hope I’m not disturbing your scholarly pursuits, but I simply had to express my gratitude for your assistance yesterday. Everything proceeded exactly as planned, thanks to your dear Miss Playford’s extraordinary kindness.”
Edward’s jaw tightened at her casual reference to Venetia, particularly given the emotional upheaval that had resulted from their supposedly simple masquerade. “I’m pleased the deception served your purposes, signorina, but I must tell you—”
“Oh, it was more than satisfactory!” Sofia replied with a tinkling laugh that struck Edward as distinctly artificial. “Paolo and I had the most wonderful afternoon together. We walked through the Giardini della Biennale and spoke of our future plans. He’s so impatient for us to begin our new life together, far from Grandfather’s interference.”
Wonderful. So glad your romantic afternoon went well while mine ended in violence and heartbreak.
She settled herself gracefully in the chair opposite his desk, carefully arranging her skirts while her chocolate-brown eyes studied his face with uncomfortable intensity.
“Tell me, I’m just dying to learn more of tomorrow evening’s entertainment,” she continued. “I understand from the servants’ gossip that your Miss Playford will be attending Grandfather’s masquerade ball. How delightful!”
Edward stiffened at her assumption regarding his relationship with Venetia. “Miss Playford is not ‘my’ anything, signorina. She’s simply afellow English resident who was kind enough to assist in your romantic schemes.”
At considerable personal cost, I might add.
Sofia’s smile held a knowing quality that made Edward distinctly uncomfortable. “Of course, signor. Though I confess I find it curious that a gentleman would take such a personal interest in arranging assistance for a lady who was nothing more to him than a casual acquaintance.”
Before Edward could formulate a response to this uncomfortably perceptive observation, Sofia leaned forward conspiratorially. “I happened to encounter Miss Bentley this morning at the Mercato di Rialto,” she said. “Such a charming woman, though rather… talkative.”
Edward nodded.
“She was most enthusiastic about tomorrow evening’s entertainment and particularly about Miss Playford’s costume—”
“I cannot imagine why Miss Playford’s costume would be of interest to you.” Edward felt a prickle of unease at Sofia’s interest in Venetia’s plans.
“Oh, but it is of the greatest interest!” Sofia exclaimed. “You see, Miss Bentley mentioned that your dear friend plans to appear as a Byzantine empress, complete with a magnificent headdress and cloth-of-gold gown. She described some of the jewelry Miss Playford intends to wear—apparently Lady Townsend has been advising her on creating the most spectacular effect possible.”
There was a calculating gleam in Sofia’s eyes that suggested an interest beyond mere feminine curiosity about fashion.
Why do I feel like I’m watching someone plan a military campaign?
“Apparently, Miss Playford plans to wear her sapphire parure—the necklace, earrings, and bracelet that belonged to her uncle’s wife. The pieces are quite magnificent, with stones of exceptional quality and historical significance, according to Miss Bentley.”
And Miss Bentley apparently provides inventory liststo anyone who asks?
“You seem remarkably well-informed about Miss Playford’s jewelry collection,” Edward observed with growing suspicion.
Sofia laughed lightly. “Oh, you know how ladies are about such matters! Miss Bentley said the sapphire ensemble was valued at several thousand pounds…so of course Miss Playford must be very careful in view of this…scoundrel thief who is terrorizing all of Venice.”
Edward felt increasingly uncomfortable. Sofia’s interest in the specific value of Venetia’s jewelry struck him as strange and mercenary. “I have seen you adorned with jewels to equal hers, signorina,” he said mildly.
“Yes, but they are not mine. Otherwise Paolo and I would have eloped long before now,” she said with a shrug. “Grandpapa has charged Caterina with keeping a careful inventory. However,” she went on with renewed animation, “here is where I hoped to contribute to the evening’s success! I happen to possess a particularly exquisite gold and sapphire tiara that would complement Miss Playford’s planned ensemble perfectly. It was my grandmother’s—a piece of considerable antiquity and beauty that has been in our family for generations.”
Edward blinked.
This is a trap. This is definitely a trap.
She reached into her reticule and withdrew a small velvet jeweler’s box, which she placed on Edward’s desk. “I would be honored if Miss Playford would consent to wear it tomorrow evening as a token of my gratitude for her assistance yesterday.”
Edward stared at the box, his mind racing through the implications of Sofia’s unexpected generosity. The offer seemed both extravagant and suspicious. Why would a young woman lend an heirloom of significant value to someone she’d met only once? And why the intense interest in ensuring that Venetia wore specific pieces of jewelry to a crowded social event?
“That is… very generous of you, signorina,” he said carefully, his pulse quickening. “Though I wonder if Miss Playford might feel such a loan places her under too great an obligation. Surely her own jewelry collection is sufficient for the occasion?”
