Joanna Maitland – His Reluctant Mistress (страница 5)

She was looking around the room again, and this time there was the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks. She was becoming concerned to find herself alone, closeted with a man she did not know. Any virtuous lady would feel so.

Leo hastened to reassure her. ‘May I fetch your maid to you, madame?’

Her blush was subsiding, Leo was pleased to see. None the less, he kept his distance. She had been assaulted once already, and by a nobleman, too. He would not put her in fear of another such attack.

‘I…I am travelling with my uncle, sir. He is above stairs, at present. As is my maid.’

‘If you will give me your uncle’s name, madame, I will instruct the landlord to fetch him at once.’ Leo smiled across at her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. She reminded him of a frightened doe, backed into a trap, her huge brown eyes wondering what dangers she must face next. Leo was a hunter, to be sure, and a connoisseur of beautiful women, but he liked them to come to him willingly, and without fear. He knew, instinctively, that this lady needed to be gentled. It would be a fortunate man who earned the right to unpin those tresses and spread them across his pillow.

Leo felt his pulse start to quicken at the thought of this lovely lady in his arms, in his bed. Definitely too long since he had paid off his last mistress. His body was starting to become as demanding as the Baron von Beck.

‘I would not have you disturb my uncle, sir. Indeed, if that gentleman has gone, I should prefer to return to my own chamber.’

Leo shook his head as she made to rise. The poor lady had escaped from the clutches of one man. Now she was doing her best to escape from the second, even though his intentions were purely honourable. Leo bit down on a smile at that. His body’s intentions were anything but honourable. Given the slightest encouragement, he would rip off her dark cloak in order to feast his eyes on the lush beauty that he sensed lay hidden beneath. But that would be a wicked way to respond to a virtuous lady. Especially this lady.

He needed to put even more space between them. He took a couple of steps towards the door and was pleased to see that she began to settle back into her chair. ‘Better that you remain here, madame, and compose yourself,’ he said gently. ‘You will allow me to summon your maid?’

This time, she nodded.

He put a hand to the door latch, waiting. His eyes remained fixed on her perfect oval face. He would not soon forget the image she made. There was a quality of serenity about her which touched him deeply.

‘Thank you, sir. Pray ask for Teresa, the maid of Madame Pietre.’

Ah! So she was Italian. Somehow, that pleased him. ‘At once, madame. I shall bid you farewell now, if you permit.’ He bowed and made to leave the room.

‘A moment, sir.’

Leo turned back. A tiny frown marred her white brow.

‘Will you not tell me your name? I would know to whom I am indebted.’

Leo smiled across at her. She was demonstrating a fine lady’s impeccable manners, now that the door was partly open. ‘Lord Leo Aikenhead, at your service, madame,’ he said, bowing as he would to a duchess. It seemed fitting.

‘You are an Englishman?’ She sounded more than a little surprised.

‘Yes, madame.’

‘An Englishman who speaks perfect French,’ she said, changing in an instant to near flawless English. ‘You will forgive me, Lord Leo, if I say that I am surprised to encounter such a man.’

‘And you will forgive me, I hope, Madame Pietre, if I express surprise that an Italian lady should speak my native language so well. After all, we have been at war with most of Europe for decades.’

‘That has not prevented some of your compatriots from making their way to Venice, sir. One learns to speak many languages there.’

Madame Pietre, from Venice. A pearl of a woman from the pearl of the Adriatic. The words came into his mind unbidden, but he knew instantly that he would always remember her in that way. She should wear a collar of priceless pearls around that swanlike throat, glowing against her skin.

Leo’s hand gripped the latch fiercely. His body was urging him to go to her, to lift her gloved hands to his lips, to discover, from the distance of a breath, whether her complexion was as delicate as it appeared, and her lips as luscious. His body was tempting him to treat this gentle lady as if she were a mere strumpet. He forced himself, instead, to bow in farewell. He was not a blackguard like Beck. He would not allow her extraordinary beauty to undermine his sense of honour.

‘If you will permit me, madame, I shall take my leave of you now. Your maid will attend on you in a moment.’ He forced himself to step out into the corridor and fasten the door behind him, leaving the lovely Italian alone with his wine and his fire. For a second, he leant back against the door and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Was that her subtle scent in his nostrils? It was so faint that he could not be sure if his senses were playing tricks on him. Yet he could almost have sworn that, for a fraction of a second, he had smelled the scent of a wildflower meadow in spring.

He berated himself for a numbskull. Even if his senses were right, it was of no import. She was Madame Pietre. Probably a married lady. And a lady Leo was unlikely ever to encounter again. No doubt she was bound for her home in Italy, while he was fixed in Vienna, probably for months. Just as well, in the circumstances, he decided. He could not afford to be diverted into wooing a virtuous lady from her husband’s bed. He had done it often enough, of course, when the lady was ready to be wooed, but it took both time and money, neither of which he had at present. He must take a mistress here in Vienna—his overeager reaction to the beautiful Venetian had amply demonstrated his needs in that direction—but he would content himself with one of the many courtesans in the city. In that regard, Madame Pietre was far above his touch.

Sophie held her breath until the door had closed firmly behind him. Then she raised her glass of wine with a slightly shaky hand and took a long swallow to ease her parched throat and racing pulse.

What on earth was the matter with her? Why was she reacting so to a man who was simply offering help to a lady in distress? Beck she could easily deal with. She had been a little frightened, to be sure, but only because she imagined she was going to have to cry out for assistance. That would have created a distasteful scene in a public inn and sullied her reputation even further. Her life was already difficult enough, for her would-be lovers assumed, as did all the polite world, that to be a professional singer was to be a whore. High class, perhaps, but still a whore.

Sophie had accepted jewels from the Baron von Beck, at Verdicchio’s insistence. As a result, the Baron believed he had rights over her person, even though she had twice rejected his advances. She had thought to be rid of him by leaving Italy. Was he following her to Vienna? She did not know, but their meeting had proved what she already suspected: the Baron was both dangerous and vindictive. He was now prepared to take her by force if he could. And if he could not, he was like to seek other ways of having revenge upon her.

Sophie shuddered and pulled her chair a little closer to the comforting warmth of the fire. If Beck were to be in Vienna while Sophie was performing there, it would be dangerous to go out alone or to have private meetings with gentlemen, even gentlemen like Lord Leo Aikenhead, whose motives had been of the very highest. His kindness had warmed her more than the fire.

The contrast between the two men was stark. Beck, as ever, had been immaculately and expensively dressed, but nothing he wore could give him the effortless presence of Lord Leo Aikenhead. It was not merely that Lord Leo was taller and of a more athletic build. Beck’s meanness of spirit was written in his features. Lord Leo, by contrast, had the open, easy air of a man who was respected by everyone. He would not need to assert his rank in order to be obeyed.

What was his rank? Sophie was not absolutely sure, but she fancied he was possibly a younger son. She had encountered quite a few such men over the years, all of them eager to know her better, and none of them plump in the pocket. There was no reason to suppose that Lord Leo was any different. Still, she could always make discreet enquiries of the embassy staff, and if—

Good grief! She was losing her wits!

She shook her head in an attempt to clear her unruly thoughts. Truly, she could not afford to allow Lord Leo’s attractive person to cloud her judgement. He was only a man. And she had long ago learned to be wary of all men, even men who rescued ladies in distress. Besides, she might never lay eyes on him again. He might not be going to Vienna. Even if he were, why should he attend performances by the Venetian Nightingale? He had the air of a man who took his pleasures outdoors, with horse and dog and gun, not a man who frequented salons and musical soirées.

She would do well to forget him. It was much more important to concentrate on saving enough to pay for her escape from Verdicchio. A little siren voice whispered that, if she had accepted the suit of one of her many admirers, she would have had money aplenty, and a protector against Verdicchio, besides, but she knew she could not do such a thing. Just the thought of being touched by them made her feel soiled. She had refused, thus far, to sell her body. She would not sell it now, when her freedom was almost within her grasp.