Devil's Daughter (Devil 2)

“I am not so very young,” Arabella said, chuckling. “I turned twenty last month. Alas, I fear that I will become a spinster.”

“Your parents want to keep you with them, then?”

“My parents,” Arabella said, “only want me to be happy. Unfortunately, I have yet to meet a man who can measure up to my brother and my father.”

The contessa lowered her eyes and let her fingers curl into her palms. “Is your brother here with you?”

Arabella gave a start, but said smoothly, “Oh no, Adam is in Amsterdam. I am merely a guest of the Lyndhursts. Their daughter and I went to school together in England.”

The little chit Gervaise wants. “And will your parents come fetch you soon?”

Arabella didn’t mind questions, truly she didn’t, but the contessa seemed too curious, too insistent. She said carefully, “My parents, for the time being at least, will remain in Genoa. I am here only because my father thought it would benefit me to see more of the world.”

“How wise he sounds.”

It seemed to Arabella that the contessa’s tone held a touch of sarcasm. She did not understand it, but thought: I will put the shoe on the other foot—and said, “Do you have children, contessa?”

The contessa smiled blandly. “You think I am a nosy old woman. It is true. When you reach my age, there are few pleasures left. But to answer your question, signorina, I have one son, Alessandro.”

“Is he with you in Naples?”

“No, Alessandro, like me, enjoys travel.”

“Is he married?”

“He is only twenty-five years old, signorina. Too young, I think, at least for a man, to consider marriage.”

“I have always thought it unfair,” Arabella said seriously, “that women are considered to be beyond the pale if they are not married at an absurdly young age, whereas gentlemen can do just as they please for as long as it pleases them.”

The contessa frowned. How often she had thought that when she was younger, married to a man old enough to be her father when she was but eighteen. At least the old fool had died and left her rich. She firmly repressed the tug of liking she felt for the lively Arabella Welles. “Life is not always fair,” she said aloud, knowing she sounded inane.

Arabella smiled suddenly and rose to her feet. “I have been monopolizing you overmuch, contessa. Forgive me. My father is always telling me that I am sometimes too exuberant.”

“Allow me to disagree with your father,” the contessa said. “But you are young and ready for more dancing, I daresay. Let us speak again, child. There is a handsome young man who appears eager for your company.”

Arabella smiled in her friendly way. “I should like that, contessa,” she said, and offered the older woman a curtsy.

She greeted Adam with an impish grin and whispered behind her gloved hand, “Have you spoken yet with Rayna?”

“Aye, and I have something of a favor to ask you, Bella.”

She arched a brow at him. “Something wicked?”

He looked for a moment somewhat hesitant. “I wish to speak to Rayna in a more private place. At her parents’ villa, to be precise. Perhaps in the garden.”

“And after all my efforts to have you meet Rayna in England, and you not the least bit interested at the time.”

Adam gritted his teeth. “I pity the man who must break you to bridle. Now, will you shut up and listen? I have no intention of compromising Rayna in any way, so dismiss all your lurid fantasies, Bella. Your role, my dear, will be to play chaperon and guard dog. Unseen and unheard, of course.”

“Naturally.” Arabella paused a moment, then said quite seriously, “Do you intend to tell Rayna who you are, Adam?”

“No. Not until this business of ours is finished. I will take no chances with her safety.”

“Reasonable,” Arabella said, “but not at all romantic. And here I had thought you—”

“A dashing rake?” He laughed. “Come, Bella, this, I believe, is quite different. Will you do as I ask?”

She squeezed his hand. “Of course. Now, Adam, I suggest you take yourself off before we become an on-dit.”