As a thief, keeping up with international and local fashion was a good way to spot tourists in a crowd. Alas, tourists were the best targets. Once robbed, they’d leave the country, and the police didn’t care about their stolen goods.
The beautiful woman next to him had to be his wife. Now that Violante paid attention to the sounds, a few Italian words reached her ears.
“I expected someone different,” she said, glancing at the glamorous young couple.
“How?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I expected someone older. He seems to be in his thirties. Quite handsome as well. His wife is a stunner.”
“Handsome?” He glanced at the count. “A rather normal chap, I think.”
“No, he’s elegant and very handsome.”
He scoffed. “If you say so.”
“Are you jealous?”
“My wife is admiring another man. I can’t say I’m pleased.” He rose, straightening his jacket, his brow furrowed. “We should say hello.” He gave her his hand before she could say anything.
After her confession about whom she hated and didn’t hate, touching his hand sent a different type of shiver down her back. There was a generous dose of regret because if she hadn’t been so angry and proud, her life would have been different. Thoughts for another moment.
She forced a smile as they approached the count’s table. “Are we going to just introduce ourselves? Isn’t that rude?”
“I’ve already been introduced to the count a while ago.”
The closer they went, the more her smile became forced at the thought of pretending to be a viscountess. Goodness. Stealing caused her less anxiety.
“Count Bassini-Verdelli.” Keith bowed his head. “Countess. I hope you remember me. We met briefly at the latest Great Exhibition of London last year.”
The count stood up. “Lord Ashford. Of course I remember you. You were with Sir Howard.” His accent brought back memories of her mother. “What a coincidence.”
Ha! He had no idea.
“May I have the pleasure of the introductions?” Keith asked. “My dear, this is Count Bassini-Verdelli and his wife, the Countess Bassini-Verdelli. May I present my wife, Lady Ashford.” He added a touch of possessiveness to the word wife. He gripped her hand more tightly.
She curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord, my lady.”
“My lady, a pleasure.” The count bowed but tilted his head towards Keith. “I had no idea you were married, Ashford.”
Keith remained deadpan. “Violante and I met at a ball two years ago. Our marriage is a recent event.”
Very recently. She smiled again. “It seems like yesterday, doesn’t it, darling?”
Keith gave her hand a light tug in warning.
The count smiled so widely she could see his back teeth. “If I may be bold, Violante is an Italian name.”
“It is. My mother was from Rome.”
“Wonderful. My home.” He stretched out an arm towards his wife.
The countess rose with the grace of a panther and gave a shallow curtsy. Her deep amber eyes had a feline quality that made them stand out in her olive skin. Violante had to confess to a hint of envy at how she moved and at her beauty.
“Why don’t you sit with us?” Lady Bassini-Verdelli asked.
“A splendid idea,” Violante said.
She perched on the edge of the stuffed chair as she and Keith enjoyed their tea with the count and countess. Drinking tea together was the easy part. Now she and Keith had to find a way to be invited to Bakewell. She smiled and nodded politely while the count talked about their trip to London from Rome.
