Oh dear. She knows.
Setting aside her half-written letter, Venetia rose and crossed to the comfortable settee where Lady Townsend had seated herself. Lord Thornton and Miss Bentley were not around, a small mercy, for there was something about Miss Bentley that made Venetia feel perpetually measured and found wanting.
And although she had no intention of admitting her infatuation with Mr. Rothbury, it was entirely possible that Lady Townsend’s keen understanding of the human heart had already made the deduction.
“I enjoyed myself to a degree,” Venetia admitted. “Certainly, I was mesmerized by my surroundings. And by the light reflecting off the water as I danced,” she added. “Venice feels like adifferent planet to England. The way the palazzo’s chandeliers cast their glow through those enormous windows onto the canal below created the most enchanting spectacle.”
Lady Townsend hesitated, her eyes kind but sharp. “I saw you when you made your entrance. Were you looking for someone in particular?”
Venetia winced. “Was I so obvious? I’d hoped merely to appear confident and self-contained.”
“Both highly commendable,” Lady Townsend said. “I imagine recent experience has rendered you justifiably cautious in matters of the heart.”
How precisely Lady Townsend had divined the truth of her situation. Venetia clasped her hands tightly in her lap, then, unable to contain her nervous energy, plucked at the fine fabric of her gown. “I half expect to discover Lord Windermere materializing from behind every ornate Venetian column,” she admitted, a shudder running through her. “His determination to possess my fortune has left its imprint.”
“But surely he presents no immediate danger?” Lady Townsend said, her tone comforting. “His disgraceful scheme was thoroughly exposed, and he now stands revealed as the fortune-hunting charlatan he truly is. His reputation in English society is irredeemably tarnished. You’ve escaped his machinations, my dear, and it’s high time you set aside such fears and directed your attention toward discovering what will bring you genuine happiness.” She smiled warmly. “I admire your bravery in removing yourself from London—and, more importantly, from your aunt’s malign influence.”
“Do you find Venice agreeable, then?” Venetia asked, not wishing to speak of her aunt. “It seems so very… foreign to English sensibilities. Yet you’ve remained here these eight months.” Her fingers worried the silk. Fine stuff. Half a year’s rent, for those less fortunate than herself. “I’m learning to enjoy beauty without apologizing for it,” she said, half to Eugenia, half to herself.
“I find the contrast with England most refreshing,” Lady Townsend replied, her gaze drifting to the window where sunlight danced on the rippling surface of the canal. “The quality of light here possesses a clarity one never encounters in London’s perpetual haze. The very air seems imbued with potential.” A secretive smile played about her lips. “And I confess I’ve come to value greatly the companionship I’ve found here.”
“Miss Bentley is a wonderful repository of facts,” Venetia said, assuming Lady Townsend referred to her female companion. “She introduced me to the Conte di Valmarana and three of his ancestors—at least, I think they were his ancestors; they were certainly on the walls. She also seemed to possess an exhaustive mental catalogue of every nobleman and noblewoman in attendance.” Boldly, she added, “I wonder if she is perhaps looking to alter her status.”
That came out more tartly than intended.
But the way Miss Bentley had gripped Venetia’s arm with barely concealed eagerness when introducing her to the Conte di Valmarana—whose estate, Venetia knew, because Lord Thornton had told her, was in a state of genteel decay despite his exquisitely tailored attire—had been rather discomfiting. Was she trying to foist Venetia on some Venetian nobleman? Or find one for herself?
“I was not referring to Catherine,” Lady Townsend said with a twist of her lips. “No, I refer to other friendships I’ve discovered in Venice, so that I don’t miss England at all.”
A brief silence fell between them, during which Venetia wondered whether she’d been overly hasty in fleeing London. For she could think of no one in Italy who would allow her to simply be quietly herself. Every nobleman to whom she’d been introduced had been flamboyantly garrulous.
She sighed. “At times, I do wonder if I acted with excessive impetuosity in coming to Venice. Do you think I ought toreturn to England?”
Lady Townsend lifted a brow. “After crossing half of Europe? My dear, you didn’t come to Venice merely to retreat at the first onset of the blue devils.”
“You do know why I came to Venice, don’t you?”
“Venice is the city of love,” Lady Townsend said as if it were the last word.
She reached across to pat Venetia’s restless hand. “Your substantial fortune grants you a liberty that few women can claim—the freedom to travel where you wish, to choose your own path without bowing to the dictates of family or financial necessity. Yet great wealth brings its own form of isolation, as I’ve discovered through long experience.”
“You’ve felt isolated, too?” Venetia asked, startled. “But surely that cannot be so! You receive invitations to every significant social event, and you’re perpetually surrounded by friends and admirers.”
“You refer to the individuals who seek my company?” Lady Townsend’s smile held a shadow of melancholy. “I’ve discovered over many years that those who most assiduously cultivate one’s acquaintance are often those of whom one should be most wary.” She cleared her throat delicately before adding, “Particularly when one possesses a substantial fortune.”
Venetia leaned forward. “Yet despite your wealth offering you such choices, you never married,” she observed.
“Independence, however precious, doesn’t entirely satisfy the longings of the heart.”
Venetia cast a quick glance around the salon to ensure they remained alone before leaning closer still. “I want love,” she said simply. “And I want children—a family of my own, bound by affection rather than obligation or financial necessity.”
Her gaze darted to the canal beyond the window, where a gondola filled with laughing children glided past, their joyful voices carrying clearly through the open casement.
“The Italians are unembarrassed by happiness,” Lady Townsendobserved. “And it’s what we should all strive for.” She squeezed Venetia’s hand warmly. “I’m delighted beyond measure to hear you express such natural desires. You were never destined for spinsterhood, my dear. Unlike me, you possess extraordinary beauty, natural vivacity, and genuine charm. I have no doubt you could capture any heart you set your sights upon.”
Venetia blushed. And when she attempted to protest, the older woman dismissed her objections with a wave of her hand.
“Let us not engage in false modesty. I never possessed the sort of beauty that inspired men’s admiration, my dear girl. I was acutely conscious of my deficiencies in that regard, and I allowed that awareness to foster a deplorable timidity in matters of the heart.” Her tone softened. “I constructed walls around myself as protection against rejection, never realizing that in doing so, I was condemning myself to precisely the loneliness I most feared.”
