Your Scandalous Ways (Fallen Women 1)

“Mr. Cordier is not interested in our domestic squabbles,” she said.

“Oh, yes, I am,” James said. “Very interested.”

“I’m not,?

?? she said. “I’m sick of them. It’s very boring, being treated like a child.”

Her parent sighed. “If fathers could have their way, our daughters would remain virgins all their lives. We would shut them all up in convents if we could. But we cannot, else the world will come to an end. Or perhaps not, since rogues get into convents all the time.”

“And I reckon the nuns thank God most heartily for that,” she said. And she laughed the irresistibly wicked laugh.

James was aware of the melting sensation within and had no doubt his countenance must be softening into an expression of pure besottedness, but it couldn’t be helped. “Oh, you are naughty,” he said.

“Yes,” she said.

“No wonder I’ve come to such a pass,” he said.

“You’re infatuated,” she said. “I’ve told you again and again.”

“I think you’re right.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t care. It’s your problem. My problem is how to end this skullduggery and stop people trying to kill me.”

James bowed. “Of course. But I am a trifle curious about your—er—about monsieur?” He turned his gaze to the beleaguered parent. “The title. No one questioned your assuming it? Wasn’t there a difficulty with passports?”

James never had difficulties with his false identities, but his superiors saw to that. This man, however, was supposed to be dead. When he was alive, he was wanted for fraud, an astounding fraud.

“If only there were, he would not be here plaguing me,” the loving daughter said.

Saunders-Magny gave her an incinerating look. She returned it. It was then James finally discerned the resemblance. It was not so much in physical appearance but in manner: the way they carried themselves and their facial expressions.

The so-called count moved to the window. He stood with his back to the late afternoon light, his hands clasped behind his back. “My mother’s family was French,” he said. “The title belongs to my cousin. There is a resemblance. When we were boys, sometimes we tried to fool people. Sometimes we succeeded. We were good friends, you see. And so, when my financial troubles occurred, I went to my cousin in France. This happened at the time Napoleon escaped from Elba.”

James well remembered those times, especially the slaughter at Waterloo that ended Bonaparte’s attempt to reclaim his empire.

“I helped my cousin in his efforts against the Corsican,” Saunders-Magny went on. “I was merely a courier, you know, nothing as sophisticated as what you do. My cousin, on the other hand—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Best to be discreet. Enough to say that it became most convenient for him to lend me his identity for a time while he had business elsewhere.”

“You can imagine how impatiently I’ve been waiting for his cousin’s business elsewhere to be finished.” Francesca threw an odd glance at her father. It happened too quickly for James to be certain, but it seemed to mingle affection with exasperation. It vanished, though, as she turned her gaze to James. “But to return to our business, Mr. Cordier. You wish to know what I’ve done with the letters.”

“Yes, actually. I know they’re not in your house.”

She smiled.

This was not the serpent smile, luring a man to his doom. This was amusement, with a dose of triumph in it.

“Che io sia dannato,” he said. “I’ll be damned. It is there. You clever little devil.”

“When I tell you,” she said, “you’ll slap your head and say, ‘How could I be so stupid?’”

“It won’t be the first time,” he said. He thought of all the stupid things he’d done since he met her, all the mistakes he’d made. He’d made a mistake yesterday, in failing to trust her. He should have taken his chances, like a man, instead of acting like a coward, putting off the inevitable.

I have had lovers, yes, and with one exception, they’ve paid handsomely for the privilege, she’d said.

It was a privilege, truly, to be her lover. And he’d been the most privileged of all, because she’d let him into her heart.

And now, he realized, if he wanted to win her back, he would have to pay for the privilege.

“It won’t be the first time I’ve been stupid where you’re concerned,” he said.

“I won’t disagree,” she said. “I am so tempted to make you guess, and drive yourself wild. But then we should be at it forever, and I should like to get on with my life.”

Without you, she meant.

Not without me, he thought. Not if I can help it.

“Yes, the sooner this is over with, the better,” said Saunders-Magny.

Think, James told himself. Think fast.

“It’s complicated, as I said,” she said. “I am not going to shout it across the room.” She crooked her finger at James. “Come, you stupid man, and I’ll whisper it in your ear.”

He started toward her.

Then he paused, frowning. He thought. He thought some more.

“Cordier, it’s a little late to play hard to get,” she said.

“I’m thinking,” he said.

“Don’t hurt your head,” she said. “I’ve already done all the thinking, mio caro. All you have to do—”

“Don’t tell me,” he said. “Please don’t tell me.”

Francesca wanted to strangle him. She’d been looking forward so much to luring him to the sofa and torturing him, whispering in his ear and making him want her. She’d looked forward so much to punishing him for making her love him.

“This is the last straw,” she said. She rose and walked out.

She heard his footsteps behind her.

“Va via!” she said without looking back. “Go away. Vai all’inferno!”

“That is where my mama tells me I will go,” came the voice of Don Carlo from behind her. “But in time, most beautiful one. Not too soon, I hope. I beg you will not make me hurry to the place of punishment and the imps with the sharp forks to prick my bottom. Because first, you see, I have things most important to do.” He reached her side. “I have the plan most cunning.”

“I don’t care,” she said.

“Do be sensible,” he said, reverting to Cordier, the provoking, patronizing Englishman.

“The sensible thing to do, I’ve decided,” she said, “is to keep far away from you.”

“You want to be safe. Your—” He broke off, glancing about the portego for eavesdropping servants. “Magny said the important thing was for you to be safe,” he went on in a lower tone. “You will not be safe while that woman is on the loose.”

Her heart began to race. “Don’t try to alarm me. I’ll be safe when you give her the…articles.”

“I’m not giving them to her. I’m not on that side. And don’t say you don’t care whose side I’m on or that it doesn’t matter.”

“I won’t say it,” she said. “But I’ll think it.”

“It does matter,” he said. “Listen to me, please, Francesca.”

She didn’t want to listen. He was too persuasive and she wanted him too much. Time and again he’d caused her to act against good sense, to break the rules she’d spent so much time and suffering learning. She saw the great marble archway at the head of the stairs, only a few feet away. She could run down to the andron, and out to the courtyard and quickly disappear in the maze of narrow Venetian streets and alleys…where she was sure to get lost and, with her luck, fall straight into the hands of one pack of villains or other.

The other direction, toward the canal, was probably safer, but then she must wait while a gondola was readied for her. So much for dramatic exits. So much for running away.

She stopped at the archway and looked at him, into his handsome, deceitful face.

“You think I don’t understand but I do,” he said. “You’re angry with England. It’s Parliament that grants divorces, and all those men—the country’s lawmakers—treated you like the Whore of Babylon. They destroyed your name and your life. Why should you wish to save such a government? Why stop Elphick? Why

not let them have the leader they deserve?”

She looked up, at the sculpted figures adorning the top of the archway: Neptune in a stormy sea with strange creatures about him. She’d left the stormy sea behind when she left England, or so she’d thought. It had followed her and found her, eventually. “I could put it better,” she said, “but you’ve got it in a nutshell.”

“All the same, you know it matters,” he said. “You’ve always known. That was why you kept the…articles. If it didn’t matter, you’d have destroyed them long ago. But you kept them, even though you knew there was a chance they’d become a dangerous possession one day.”

“I’ve decided they’re too dangerous,” she said. “I’ve decided it’s not worth the risk, the unpleasantness. Why should I risk my neck for England, for that government and those monstrous men?”

“It was a bad time,” he said. “As your—as Magny pointed out, Napoleon had escaped from Elba. The upper classes were full of fear and hate already. They were worried about his returning to power and his possibly overthrowing them, with the help of malcontents at home. The Terror was and is still vivid in many people’s minds, recollect. Easy enough for the gentlemen in Parliament to picture their wives and children under the blade of the guillotine.”

“But I was not fomenting revolution! I had an affair! One! My husband had scores. He had a mistress before we wed and kept her while we were wed and has her still—and no one thinks the less of him!”

“I am not saying that you were trying to overthrow the Crown,” he said. “I am saying that these men were in a state of mind that made it easy for Elphick. A great scandal, a depraved woman—he redirected the general fear and hatred at you, a clear target. They could deal with you. Napoleon and political unrest constituted a more complicated proposition. You were simple. You were the diversion, don’t you see? With everyone fixed on you, no one noticed what Elphick was doing behind the scenes. They behaved badly, I agree. It was neither the first nor the last time they’ve done so. But they were wrong, and I know that in your case they’ll make amends if you’ll give them a chance.”