“I don’t see how I can refuse. We can’t afford to insult the man,” he said.
The work would give him access to the Palazzo.I could trundle over to Wentworth with tidbits of information, he thought.If the count began to pump him for information about the English, he could do that, too.It would serve the two of them right. Maybe they would forget about Major Bently.
“It’s honest enough work. You should take it,” Nora said.
Honest enough? What would she think if she knew I took money from both Castellimonte and Wentworth. What a coil!
“If I do, perhaps we can delay ‘going through with it’ as you call it.”
Nora sobered. “We can’t leave her there. If the count insists I be married first, we have to do it.” She leaned forward and put her hand over his. “I know it worries you, but it may be needed.”
“How can you say that? Marriage would be serious trouble,” he said.
The little wren shook her head insistently. “It needn’t be real if you don’t want it. Once Isabella and the guardianship are safe, you can leave. You will have your life back.”
She misunderstood him miserably.I have no other life.He began to think he wanted no other life, but marriage to him would bring her nothing but grief. That much he knew for certain.
Nora pleaded with watery blue eyes that destroyed Jamie’s defenses. He covered her hand where it lay on his.
“It will not come to that. We mustn’t let it. We’ll find a way to convince him to give Isabella over to your care,” he promised her.
“I want her now, Jamie. Not a year from now,” Nora retorted.
“I’ll take the work, Nora,” he said. “I’ll do my best, but I make no promises.”
Lunch sat like a rock in his stomach. When has my best helped anyone?
Chapter Twenty
Ablushing maid let Jamie into Nora’s house with a curtsey. He knew the house had become Nora’s because sunlight filled the foyer, and the dim, the drapes, and the dust were gone. Tile sparkled in the courtyard beyond. His little wren had been busy nesting.
While the maid scurried to findsignora, Jamie went to the tall windows which opened to the interior courtyard. Overgrown beds, plants in need of pruning, and dirty statuary met his eyes.
Jamie’s mind drew a picture of Isabella and Nora on their own bench next to the statues of naked cupids while water danced in the now-dry fountain. Try as he might, he couldn’t see himself in that picture.
“Jamie! What a relief! I’m so glad you are here. Did I interrupt your work?”
He turned to see her in a shaft of sunlight with linen wrapped around her old bombazine dress, a white bandana covering her hair except where honey-colored locks had escaped, and a gray smudge running across her nose and down her cheek. Her adorable disarray took his breath away.
“Jamie,” she repeated, concerned by his silence, “did my message disturb your work? Was it trouble?”
“No, no,” he said, clearing the lump in his throat. “We were finished for the day.” His presence, as it turned out, would be needed half days three times a week. He had wished for less free time, lesstime to brood about Nora, and less time to brood about his own fears. Her message had been a relief.
Her broad smile made his blood sizzle. How a woman wrapped in shapeless layers of fabric could make his entire body react astonished him.
Nora didn’t notice. She swept up and took both his hands. “It goes well?”
“As much as I can tell after two days, yes,” he replied.
“How many students?” she asked.
“Usually four or five, if you can call gawky young men with various duties about the Palazzo students.”
“Victor?” she asked, wary.
“Am I to tutor our preening baron? No. I haven’t seen him,” he told her. “I suspect his English is already better than he lets on.”
That answer seemed to please her.
