Lady Townsend’s eyes filled with quick understanding. “My dear, I am sure there are reasons—”
“Oh, I’m sure there are,” Venetia cut in. “He is an honorable man working under the patronage of a powerful one. I do not doubt that chains have been wrapped around him from every direction. But the result is the same, is it not? I stand accused. And he is not able to help me.”
There was silence.
Thornton set his glass down carefully. “What do youhopeto find at La Serafina’s?” he asked. “This is not a rhetorical question.”
“Information,” Venetia said simply. “Madame Bertolini tells me that Count di Montefiore is often seen there. That he is not what he claims to be. That he likes to pay court to older women—”
She speared Miss Bentley with a look, causing the older woman’s cheeks to flame though she said nothing.
A flicker of interest crossed Thornton’s features. “Count di Montefiore?”
“Yes.” Venetia leaned forward, energy thrumming in her veins. “A man who appears in our circle just as my inheritance becomes the talk of Venetian society. A man who pumps Miss Bentley for every detail of the will’s conditions. A man who stares at my jewels as if assessing their value for someone else. A man of ‘many names’ who visits a courtesan known for her knowledge of other people’s private business.” She drew breath. “Does that not strike you as… convenient?”
Lady Townsend, who had been listening with tightening lips, said slowly, “Madame Bertolini told you this?”
“And more.” Venetia’s fingers twisted the letter unconsciously. “According to her cousin, he was called by another name in Paris. A French name. We know of at least one Englishman with reason to hate me who speaks French and considers himselfcosmopolitan.”
“Mr. Greene,” Lady Thornton whispered.
“Mr. Greene,” Venetia agreed. “Disinherited in my favor, in debt, in need of funds and revenge. What if he met this so-called Count di Montefiore somewhere on the Continent? What if he spoke of a foolish old man’s will and a clause about scandal? Would that not present a tempting opportunity to a man who specializes in other men’s misfortunes?”
“And Sofia?” Thornton asked quietly.
Venetia’s jaw tightened. “Sofia is vain and easily swayed. If a charming, worldly count whispered to her that her romantic dreams could come true if only she helped him with a little scheme… Do you really think she would resist?”
Lady Townsend closed her eyes briefly. “Oh, child.”
“I am not a child any longer,” Venetia said, more steadily than she felt. “I may be foolish in many things, but I am starting to see the pattern resolving itself.”
“Even if your theory is correct,” Thornton said, “La Serafina’s drawing room is hardly a safe place for investigation. Deliberately placing yourself in disreputable company will hand your enemies more ammunition.”
“Or it may hand me the proof I need before they can finish ruining me.” Venetia rose, smoothing her skirts. “If I do nothing, Captain Rizzi builds his case. If I wait politely, Greene—if itisGreene—and his pet count tighten their net. If I sit in this respectable salon playing whist, I will wake one morning to find I have lost not only my reputation but my fortune as well.”
She lifted her chin. “My inheritance can be taken with a stroke of a pen if Captain Rizzi were to write a scathing letter about my conduct to my trustees. My freedom can be taken with a word from the wrong man. My reputation, practically speaking, is already gone. What I have left is the ability to act.”
“Venetia,” Lady Townsend said desperately, “if you must do something, let us at least help you. We can make inquiries. There aremore discreet means—”
“I know,” Venetia said more gently. “And I am grateful. But discreet means take time. I do not have time. Men like Count di Montefiore do not linger once their work is done. If he is planning to vanish, it will be soon.”
She drew in another breath. “I will go masked. Mollie will be with me. I will not drink anything I haven’t seen poured. I will sit at the edge of the room and listen. And if La Serafina is half as perceptive as people say, she will know my questions before I ask them.”
Mollie made a faint squeaking noise that suggested she had not entirely agreed to this plan, but Venetia pressed on.
“Please,” she said to Eugenia and Thornton, and her voice broke on the word. “You have both been so kind to me. I know this seems reckless. Itisreckless. But I cannot bear another night waiting while other people decide my fate. If I am to be ruined, let it at least be in the attempt to save myself.”
“She’s going to go whether we approve or not,” Thornton murmured.
“Yes,” Lady Townsend said. “I can see that.”
“Then the question,” he said, “is whether we leave her to it—or arrange to be close enough to catch her if she falls.”
Lady Townsend straightened. “Very well, Venetia. Go. But do not think for a moment I intend to let you flounce into a courtesan’s salon without some measure of protection. Thornton, we know at least three men who would be welcome in such a place and discreet enough to keep their mouths shut.”
“Four,” Thornton corrected. “I’m one of them.”
Venetia’s lips twitched. “Lady Townsend, Lord Thornton, you cannot possibly—”
