Treacherous Temptations(15)

“N-not particularly,” Mary said, still struggling to compose.

“Unusual,” he remarked.

“Coming to London wasn’t exactly my choice.”

“No? Then why are you here?”

“Because I am not my own mistress and my guardian insisted on it.”

His expression suggested that her candor surprised him. “You desire to be your own mistress?”

“Yes, had I a choice. But I do not. I am told I must wed but have no desire to do so.”

“You intrigue me, signorina. I thought all young women dreamt of such things.”

“Not I, my lord. I would be much happier at home in Leicester.”

“Is this your purpose in coming to the capital then? To find a husband?”

“It is my guardian’s purpose,” she amended. “I am only resigned to my fate because I see no means of avoiding it.”

“Are you now under the care of Lady Blanchard?”

“No….Yes…I mean…sort of. I suppose you could say that.”

He cocked a brow. “You are uncertain?”

“I am here because Lady Blanchard is a close acquaintance of the gentleman who is my guardian. He suggested I stay here until I find a suitable husband.”

“Suitable as in wealthy and ennobled,” he added dryly.

“I’m afraid so,” Mary agreed. “At least the ennobled part.”

“The nobility do not appear to rank highly in your estimation.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Mary replied. “I just do not understand their ways. What of you, my lord?” She was more than eager to divert the conversation away from herself and increasingly curious about him. “Are you the guest Lady Blanchard expected yesterday? Will you be staying at Blanchard House while in London?”

He gave her a wry smile. “It is my intent. But I am hardly a guest. This is…or was…my home.”

“Your home?” Mary gave a puzzled shake of her head. “How can that be? Are you a kinsman to the countess?”

His lips twisted in a peculiar manner. “One might say so…The countess is my step-mother.”

“Your step-mother? But she can’t be much older than you are! And aren’t you Italian?”

“I am an Englishman born and bred, but only compelled to live abroad. I am sorry to have misled you.”

Mary found her bewilderment only increasing. “Then you cannot mean…you are the Earl of Blanchard?” she asked.

“No,” he said, a black expression briefly marring his handsome features. “Here in England I am simply Lord Hadley, but even that honorific is but a mere courtesy.”

“Lord Hadley? But you introduced yourself yesterday as…”

“The Conte di Caserta? I pray you will forgive the ruse under which we first met, although it was a partial truth. I am indeed the owner of such an elegant Italian patent of nobility, but the property that goes with it is but a desolate cliff top village, and the palazzo, a mediaeval ruin inhabited solely by stray goats.” He gave her a deprecating grin. “Yet I maintain use of the title as a precaution to avoid my enemies.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“It does not signify, my dear, and is far too tedious to explain.”

“I see.” She really did not, but it was obviously a line of discourse he didn’t care to continue. “But you have now revealed yourself to me.”

“Indeed, I have. Something about you seems to have inspired my confidence. Will you betray me, my Antheia?” He traced her cheek with a thoughtful look.

She gazed solemnly into the depths of his blue eyes. “No. You may trust that I would never do such a thing as betray a friend.”

He laughed. “You would be my friend when you know nothing at all about me?”

“I perceive that we both feel like strangers here, and are not strangers always in need of friends?”

“So very trusting.” He gave her a soft smile and brushed her cheek with his finger.

“Are you and Lady Blanchard estranged?” Mary bit her lip, immediately regretting the question. Why couldn’t she remember the simplest rules? The countess had instructed her never to ask personal questions—especially of a gentleman. To her relief, he seemed unperturbed, and mayhap, even a bit amused.

“Not at all, my dear. Why should you think it?”

“It’s just that she has not made any mention of you, and you said you have been away for a long time.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I am only recently returned from an extended Continental sojourn. I have lived the past few years in Italy.”

“Is it very different in Italy? I have never travelled out of the country.” Mary realized with another pang that her confession only emphasized her ignorance of the world, her social inferiority, and various other deficiencies.

“It is,” he answered without the least condescension. “Not only the language and the landscape, but the customs and manners differ greatly from our own. I enjoyed it for a time but it has lost its novelty.”

“I can imagine it must have,” Mary said. “Did you grow homesick, Lord Hadley? I think that I would have. I already yearn for Leicestershire and I am only in London a fortnight.”