No. No, no, no. Not now. Not when we’ve JUST—
Footsteps rang upon the stone floors and Captain Rizzi appeared, florid-faced and looking victorious, pointing an accusing finger.
At her.
“An English lady in a Byzantine diadem,” he said briskly. “You match the account I was given.”
His gaze went straight to the tiara she wore, not her face. He hadn’t glanced around to search or question. He came straight for her, as if he’d already been told exactly whom to find.
Someone described me?
Her stomach flipped. Not only was she alone with Edward—ruin enough—but someone had marked her out in advance, as neatly as a hunter setting snares.
Sofia’s tiara burned against her scalp.
Oh God. The tiara. Sofia loaned me the tiara. And now there’s a theft and Captain Rizzi came straight to me.
This was a trap. This had been a trap all along.
And I walked right into it wearing several thousand pounds of jewelry and kissing the man I love on a semi-public balcony.
Chapter Nineteen
“Captain Rizzi.” Venetia’shands shook as she looked at the captain, a dozen gawping guests behind him. “Of what do I stand accused?”
“Signorina Playford,” he began, emphasizing her maiden state as he glanced accusingly between her and Mr. Rothbury. “Your description matches that of the… thief seen making off with a pair of emerald earrings.”
Theft?
“I’ve done nothing other than seek solitude after the dancing.”
“Solitude?” The captain raised an eyebrow, then said with sarcasm, “You were far from seeking solitude when I found you.”
Edward stepped closer. “Captain, I protest any suggestion about Miss Playford’s character—” Against her ear, he murmured, his horror palpable, “Sofia’s tiara. I never intended you to accept her offer. How did you—?”
“Mr. Rothbury.” Count Morosini appeared from behind the captain. His voice was cold. “You’ve said enough.”
Oh God. Count Morosini? What does he have to do with this?
“Captain Rizzi, if you’d let me explain—”
“Explain? I do not need you to explain what was reported by several of my guests. Miss Bentley!”
Venetia turned, surprised to see Miss Bentley emerge from thecrowd.
“Count di Montefiore asked you to keep an eye on several of Count Morosini’s guests. Firstly, what explanation could excuse such behavior?” Captain Rizzi’s arm encompassed the balcony.
Miss Bentley shook her head sorrowfully. “I should have known a man of modest means would compromise dear Venetia to force an advantageous marriage.”
Compromise? We had ONE kiss and suddenly I’m a fallen woman?
The accusation hit Venetia like a slap. In Miss Bentley’s version, Edward was a calculating fortune hunter rather than the honorable man she knew. The suggestion was so vile she could barely process it.
“That’s not—”
Captain Rizzi raised a hand. “Miss Playford, perhaps you’ll explain how you came to wear Signorina Morosini’s family tiara tonight?”
The question made her stomach drop as her hand flew to the elaborate piece Sofia had insisted she borrow—the crowning touch of her costume that now felt like a crown of thorns.
