Interest? As goldfish are of interest to the cat.
“What does that have to do with Mrs. Haley?” Jamie asked.
“Come now, Major, don’t pretend to be naive. The woman hasembarked, foolishly or bravely, to adopt the count’s great-niece and to deal with the man and his court. This opens up certain opportunities.” Wentworth gestured broadly.
Jamie refused to speculate; he waited in stony silence. He didn’t have to wait long.
“You wish Mrs. Haley to keep her niece,” Wentworth went on. “I can help. You can help me. Beneficial all around, not?”
“Help you how?” Jamie asked.
“Nothing strenuous. When you or Mrs. Haley meet with the count or his people, information may come to your attention,” Wentworth suggested, “tidbits, you know, small things. All I need is for you to keep us informed.”
“You want me to spy,” Jamie spat.
“I wouldn’t be so harsh, Major. I?—”
“I would. I won’t be your bloody spy. Bribe his servants,” Jamie snarled.
Wentworth’s lips twitched, and laughter gleamed in his eyes.They have already bribed the servants. He wants more.
“One can never have too much information, Major. I remind you Mrs. Haley wishes to keep her niece. If you wish my assistance, you will work for me. There would be compensation.”
The ice shards in Jamie’s spine exploded in the heat of his rage.
“I won’t be your bloody spy,” he repeated through clenched teeth. “I won’t take your bloody ‘compensation!’”
Wentworth sat back in his chair, tented his fingers, and smiled like a well-fed spider. “Spy? Not if you say so. But you will help us.”
Jamie did not respond.
“Think about it,” Wentworth said. “Visit Mrs. Haley and her niece. Come back when you have made your decision.”
Jamie rose so quickly he knocked over the chair. He leaned the knuckles of both hands on Wentworth’s desk.
“I won’t do it,” he spat.
Wentworth’s smile never faltered. “Take your time. That will allow me to correspond with Whitehall about your service.”
Jamie knew that for the threat Wentworth intended. He stumbled from the office.Do I have any choice? None unless I find a way to disappear.
Chapter Seventeen
Nora seethed with irritation in front of an imposing villa in a prosperous neighborhood that the man who identified himself simply as Capello claimed was Robert’s. It lay many blocks and a universe away from her little apartment. How or when Robert had acquired it eluded Nora. Apparently this palace even had a name—Casa Beaumont.
Jamie had failed to respond to Nora’s hastily written note when the man moved up the time to hand over the keys to the house.
Neither Nora’s rudimentary Italian nor Capello’s broken English were sufficient for the task. Besides, the man watched her like a hound on the scent. She needed Jamie.Where has the irritating man gone?The sun beat down mercilessly where they stood on the street.
Nora finally gestured impatiently for the man to open Robert’s house. The heavy oak door opened on silent hinges, and she stepped into a new world. No English house had walls the color of apricots and lemons. No English house opened to an interior garden fragrant with oleander.No English house ever called to my heart.This one does.
She rocked on her toes, anxious to explore, tempted to dart in every direction at once. She took a shuddering breath and tried to bring herself under control.
“Shall we wait Major Bently?” Capello’s voice, tight and high-pitched, stumbled over English words. Jamie had disappeared from Santo Spirito the day before and never came back. She silently agreed that they should wait.
Her eyes darted around the dim entrance, a broad tile-lined foyer. Shutters closed over windows facing the street. Heavy drapery covered all but one of the French doors opening on the interior courtyard directly across from the entrance. She traced patterns in the tile floor—red, brown, and orange patterns swirling outward from the center.
“Signora?” The man’s question didn’t require language. “Where is this fiancé of yours?” his eyes seemed to ask.
