Nora sputtered, taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“What do you know of him?” Salvia asked.
Unholy amusement bubbled up.Good question, Nora, what do you have to say to that?Jamie leaned toward her, listening intently.
“This man served my country. He is a man of honor and courage,” she said. “If your concern, Signore, is with his appearance, you should know that some elements of my country—to be frank the highest of our so-called nobility—have treated our soldiers very badly.”
Hundreds, turned off after Waterloo without the means to survive, roamed English roads.Nora cared. I should have predicted that. No wonder she hadn’t objected to hiring Wat Jones.
“Desperate men make poor husbands, Signora Haley. In the normal course of things, your father would look into the match. If you would let yourself be guided by wiser heads, perhaps we can sort this out.”
Jamie cut in, “My fiancée does not require your guidance, Signore. Your job is to carry out her brother’s will.”
Salvia cast Jamie a contemptuous glance but kept his attention on Nora.
“Signora,” he wheedled, “I have a daughter myself. I do not want to see you lost and confused, allow me suggest—” Nora, straight-backed, pulled herself even higher, ready to do battle. Still, she had no answer. Jamie did.
“My fiancée has already told you what she wants,” he bit out. “She intends to act on her brother’s wishes, and she expects you to help her.”
Salvia turned the full force of his scrutiny on Jamie. His eyes missed nothing, not the frayed cuffs, the overlong hair, or the eyes Jamie suspected still showed the effect of drink. Jamie met his gaze directly.The windbag may be correct in his assessment of me, but he will not bully Nora.
Salvia lifted a quivering chin and spoke to Nora without taking his eyes off Jamie. “You insist, Mrs. Haley?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, I do,” Nora answered.
“Very well, Signora. Perhaps it will make a differencewith parties who have an interest.”Castellimonte. We will have to do better with Castellimonte.
“Uphold the law, Signore,” Jamie snapped. The thought of Isabella as a dynastic pawn sickened him. “Leave Mrs. Haley’s niece and her family to us.”
Salvia ignored him. He addressed Nora. “You will want a protestant minister to conduct your wedding.” It wasn’t a question.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I hadn’t thought about it,” she temporized.Of course not. She didn’t plan an actual marriage.
“You will want that the marriage is legal in England as well as here,” Salvia droned on.
“Mother Margarita assured me something could be arranged, that the marriage would be perfectly legal.” Nora’s voice sounded rushed. Of course she wouldn’t want an English ceremony. Too legal. Too hard to dissolve.
“I will talk with Signor Wentworth about your laws and customs. Perhaps he will suggest something.”
Wentworth. Diplomacy. Law. Questions.Suddenly the kind of ceremony mattered very much to Jamie. “My fiancée is satisfied with Mother Margarita’s suggestions,” he asserted. “When she is ready, a Roman ceremony will suffice.”And keep your nose out of it.
Nora shot him a grateful look. Salvia’s eyes shot daggers.
“As you wish Signora,” he said. He launched into practical matters including release of some funds from Beaumont’s estate.
“Decisions about the child’s residence will, of course, take time. As to guardianship…” He shrugged.Of course. Time and Castellimonte’s approval.
Nora, overwhelmed by the size of the allowance Salvia proposed, nodded dumbly. He droned on.
“I will report your betrothal to the Count di Castellimonte,” he said finally and shot another hateful look at Jamie. “I will speak with Mr. Wentworth about this Major Bently.”
Damn.
Several hours later,Jamie tossed what few items he owned into a cloth sack with shaking hands. Salvia must have sent a footman to the Hanover’s embassy at a dead run. Wentworth’s summons lay crumpled on Jamie’s equally rumpled bed.
I will run south,he thought. Revolution might just serve. Some army might hire him. Naples in flames might push visions of Nora in trouble from his mind.Unlikely.
He tossed a broken comb into the sack.Austrians in Naples will draw Whitehall’s agents.Whitehall meant Jamie’s friend, the Marquess Glenaire. His spy network there would outshine his network in Rome.Not south.
