Her lips curled. “Pah. That is because Miss Playford is an heiress and you are penniless.” There was no malice in it, merely brutal, youthful clarity. “My Paolo is the second son of a grand family. His elder brother is unmarried. There is every possibility that in several years circumstances might change.Thenmy grandfather would be more amenable to a match. But he has no patience.” Her shoulders slumped. “None.”
Edward acknowledged this with a grim nod. “He certainly wants his Sir Walter Scott novels completed before he will allow me any latitude to follow my heart. Like you, I am a prisoner here. I am forbidden even to converse with Miss Playford; my work keeps me at this desk from dawn to dusk. And it is only due to your grandfather’s goodwill—no, his desire to keep me a prisoner to his translations—that he continues to protect her from prosecution, though both you and I know she is guilty of no wrongdoing.”
The bitterness leaked through despite his efforts, and he added, “You realize that it is you who relies on my goodwill? I could report the truth of your involvement to your grandfather.”
He realized belatedly that he was glaring at Sofia. She had the grace to look down at her clasped hands.
“It was not I who stole the jewels,” she said quietly. “I have already told you that. Of course, I would not have, had I feared that you telling my grandfather would put me in jeopardy. He would be angry with you for daring to tarnish his precious granddaughter’s name.”
“Yes,” Edward replied, tightly.
“Besides, it was not my intention to cause harm to Miss Playford.” Her fingers tightened around the handkerchief. “And, in any case, I did not steal the emeralds.”
“So you have said. However, you will forgive me,” he said dryly, “if I do not accept that on faith.”
“You do not believe me, Signor Rothbury?” she asked, looking up through damp lashes. “Why, it is the truth. The thief was the maid of the contessa who took the emerald earrings some weeks ago, when her mistress visited the palazzo of Signor Albrizzi.”
“The contessa’s maid? So, you made this arrangement with her?”
Sofia shook her head. “Paulo did. You forget that I am even more of a prisoner of my grandfather than you are. I was not permitted to attend the masquerade just as I am accompanied wherever I go. It was Paulo who sought out Griselda.Hepaid her. He promised her protection and restitution. In three years he comes into an inheritance when he reaches five-and-twenty; he swore he would repay the contessa twice over and protect Griselda. But in the meantime our situation was desperate. Grandpapa was already hinting that he’d decided to arrange my marriage to Bembo. We had to act before he succeeded in tying me to this… decrepit fish.” She looked up at him. “Would you not act with similar desperation if you were about to lose your one chance at happiness?”
Edward shifted uncomfortably. Whatwashe doing to prevent happiness from slipping away? Protecting Venetia was an act that enabled them both to be close, practically, but separated in any other way. And his attempts to prove her innocence would simply result her in freedom to…
Leave Venice.
And leave him… forever.
Briefly he closed his eyes. What choice did he have? He was not so much a prisoner of a Morosini as he was a prisoner of his poverty and—he swallowed—his lowly birth. Bitter shamewashed over him once more. What could he do to help Venetia? The illegitimate son of an opera singer? He’d been taken in as charity after his adoptive father—the staid, but kindly bailiff, Rothbury—married her.
Why had he never been brave enough to have confessed to Venetia that, in truth, it was the fact he was a bastard rather than penniless, that accounted for the reason he could never honorably offer her marriage?
“This maid, Griselda,” he said, forcing himself to return to the topic. “Where is she now? Have you considered the risks she took on your behalf. Have you even thought she might be dismissed—languishing in a dungeon—if her part is discovered?”
Sofia’s chin jerked up. “As long as Miss Playford is under suspicion, Griselda is safe. Besides, you speak as ifIarranged this. I merely… agreed.” She faltered. “And we never meant harm to Miss Playford. That was not part of it.”
He let out a slow breath. “Yet it is Miss Playford who stands accused. You’ve admitted so much already. You might as well tell me the rest.”
Color rose in her cheeks. She twisted the handkerchief between her fingers. “The tiara,” she admitted, “was my idea. We needed a place to hide the earrings. Griselda could not keep them in the contessa’s apartments—it would have been far too obvious. So I told Paolo that I could find a better way.”
“There it is,” Edward said softly. “The part you do not wish to look at too closely.”
She flinched as if he had struck her.
“She was in the ladies’ mending room at my grandfather’s masquerade,” Sofia hurried on. “Miss Bentley was there, fussing with her gown. Griselda came in with a box of pins and thread. She saw the tiara in Miss Playford’s hands and exclaimed about its beauty. She told Miss Bentley that a lock of Miss Playford’s hair was caught, and Miss Bentley—foolish woman—took the tiara to examine it and handed itto Griselda.”
Sofia drew a shaky breath. “That is when she slipped the emeralds into the hidden compartment. She was quick. No one noticed. I swear to you, there was no intention to ruin Miss Playford. The plan was merely that I would reclaim the tiara later, containing the earrings. That would have given us enough to flee. But everything… went wrong.”
She looked genuinely stricken now, her usual dramatic flair stripped away, leaving only raw misery.
Edward rubbed a hand over his face. He had no proof she spoke truth, no way to confirm details without drawing the attention of the very man most invested in keeping his granddaughter unsullied. Even repeating this story to Morosini would mean explaining how and why he and Sofia had shared such confidences.
The count would not thank him for that.
“Perhaps,” Sofia said quietly, watching his struggle, “my words give you at least this comfort: that you may be entirely certain your beloved is not guilty of the crime for which everyone insists on suspecting her.”
“As if I ever thought her guilty for a single moment,” Edward retorted, more sharply than he intended.
Her mouth twitched. “No. You thoughtIwas.”
