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e should check on Agatha, make sure she needed nothing and was still in good health. Besides, the children were doing well at their lessons and deserved a holiday.
All excuses, of course, but good ones, she assured herself. She was prudent in removing herself from a man who, despite all his protestations, seemed to want not her welfare, but something else entirely. What other explanation could there be? If Chance truly intended to help her find her English relatives and considered her a lady, why should he need to hide her from Lady Trevick? If, on the other hand, he was set on seducing her ladyship’s laundry maid, that was another matter altogether. Or perhaps he was intent on courting one of the Trevick daughters and dared not be seen with another woman.
Alessa stood, blinking in the sunlight. No, if that was the case, then all he had to do was explain his interest in her to Lady Trevick and all would be well. As it was, things were far from well. Like a fool she had let herself—what?—trust was the word. Trust and like a man when every instinct should have told her to treat him with the utmost caution. And it hurt. Hurt far more than the simple realisation that she had been a fool ought to.
She settled the basket in the crook of her arm and turned off into a courtyard. As she expected, Dr Theo Stephanopolis was sitting in the shade of his vine arbour, benevolently scrutinising four small boys who were all painfully struggling with the series of sums he had chalked up on a board. Demetri was scowling ferociously, his tongue stuck out with the effort of calculation.
‘Kyria Alessa, welcome.’ The old schoolmaster stood up, and his little class scrambled to their feet, grinning in welcome and relief at the interruption to their task. ‘Is all well?’
‘Yes, indeed, Doctor. But I have come to collect Demetri. We must go to the cottage for a few weeks.’ Behind his teacher Demetri was shoving his slate and pencil into his leather satchel, pulling faces at his less fortunate classmates. Alessa caught his mood and felt her spirits lift. But even so, not far under the surface, there was a dull ache of disappointment. Almost, she thought, as she wrote a note for him to run to the Residency with, a feeling of mourning, as though she had lost something.
‘Explain that I will let them know when I am able to take laundry again,’ she called after the boy as he took to his heels. ‘And, Demetri—don’t say where we are going!’
Chance found to his amusement that the Residency ladies were completely under the Count’s spell and that even Lady Blackstone was willing to be charmed. As for Miss Blackstone, she had obviously dismissed Chance as unworthy of her lures, and was batting her eyelashes demurely at the exotic visitor.
The Misses Trevick, who felt they had prior claim on the Count, were regarding Miss Blackstone suspiciously as Chance slipped away to find the steward and request the loan of a small carriage to take him back into the town. One was not available until later in the afternoon, much to Mr Williams’s chagrin at being so disobliging, for Sir Thomas had taken out the larger, and Mr Harrison the smaller.
Chance shrugged. An interval for Alessa to recover her temper would probably be a good thing, however much he wanted to rush over there and explain. He strolled back on to the terrace to find Lady Trevick explaining that the Residency was about to decamp to a summer villa at Paleokastritsa on the opposite side of the island.
‘Such an enchanting spot,’ she enthused. ‘They say Odysseus landed there. Sir Thomas is having a proper road built across to it, as it will make an ideal summer resort.’
She spotted Chance sliding into one of the lounging chairs. ‘Do say you will be fit to travel, Lord Blakeney! We are all determined on it. The old road is very rough, but you may ride where the carriage would jolt too much.’
‘You are most kind, but I would not wish to intrude. I have already presumed on Sir Thomas’s hospitality and your care too long.’ Damnation! The Blackstones are obviously intent on going, Alessa will be here…
‘Not at all. Do consider it, my lord, your company would be greatly valued.’
‘Thank you, but I am not certain I feel up to the journey. Perhaps I could see how I am tomorrow?’ It galled him to pretend weakness in front of the Count, who directed a look of manly sympathy in his direction that made him grind his teeth.
‘But of course.’ Lady Trevick smiled understandingly and Chance was allowed to sink back into obscurity behind his newspaper while the girls flirted chastely with Count Kurateni.
Chance was aware of something very like butterflies in his stomach as the Residency groom reined in the small gig as close to Alessa’s courtyard as he could get. In order to make her understand, he was going to have to explain his theory about Lady Blackstone before he could test it any further, and he risked all the disappointment Alessa must surely feel if he proved to be wrong.
Perhaps, he wondered as he began to climb the stairs, a more resolute man would endure being misunderstood for however long it took to prove the matter. If that were the case, then he was weak. He was also, he realised as he arrived outside her door at last, ankle throbbing, dangerously close to falling in love with her.
The idea was such a shock that he stood there, stock still, one hand raised to knock, for a good minute. If she had opened the door in his face, he was sure he would have blurted it out, there and then. But, thank God, she did not.
Chance dragged a hand through his hair as though to reorganise his brain, and knocked. Silence. He tried again, then shamelessly applied his ear to the door panels. Nothing. It seemed impossible. He had rehearsed exactly what he was going to say—up to the point when that thunderbolt had struck him just now—and it had never occurred to him for a minute that Alessa would not be at home to hear him.
He walked slowly down to the next landing. What had she said, when he had woken up? Her neighbour had helped her with his unconscious body. Mrs Reed…Roades…No, Street. He banged on the door. Again, total silence.
Reluctantly Chance descended to the entrance hall. He would be reduced to asking the steward at the Residency, and that would take some tact if the man were not to wonder at his motives.
‘Kyrios?’ He turned. A slatternly looking woman with a child at her side had opened the door and was looking at him.
‘Kyria Alessa?’
The woman stared. ‘She…go. Away. Many days.’ That appeared to exhaust her stock of English.
Gone? Chance stared back, every modern Greek phrase deserting him for a moment, leaving only the classical tongue of the schoolroom. He made himself focus. ‘Yati? Poo? Pote?’
The woman shrugged, obviously unable to answer Why, Where or When, and apparently not much caring either. Chance found a coin in his pocket and gave it to her. ‘Efharisto.’ Thanks for nothing, he thought savagely as he limped back to the gig.
Lady Trevick was seated in the shade of the veranda, her daughters dutifully at their embroidery at her side, when he returned to the Residency. ‘Ma’am, I feel much more myself. If your most kind offer is still open, I would be delighted to accompany you to Paleokastritsa.’ And I will flirt with all the young ladies and get over this ridiculous feeling that one of my limbs is missing.
Instantly he was the centre of attention. Lady Trevick was graciously pleased, her daughters clapped their hands and declared it to be delightful, and his presence the very thing to make their house party complete.
Three days later Alessa leaned on the rickety gate that separated her plot of land from her neighbour’s. ‘Hérete, Agatha.’
