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‘There are arrangements to be made,’ Chance said diplomatically before Alessa could reply. ‘I expect you are looking forward to Venice, Miss Blackstone? I am travelling there next.’
Oh, Chance, that was a slip, Alessa chuckled to herself as Frances beamed at this wonderful news. She found she was looking at Chance’s bare feet with their long, elegant bones, his toes curling in the sand. The unconscious sensuality with which he was flexing them in the warm, fine grains made her heart beat harder and her mood of light amusement fled to be replaced with one of vague dread.
‘Excuse me, my lord. Miss Trevick, Lady Trevick sends to say that luncheon is served.’ The footman eyed Chance’s state of dress. ‘Shall I tell your lordship’s valet that you will require him immediately?’
‘Lord, yes. Fetch my coat and shoes from over there, would you?’ Chance got to his feet with a rueful glance down at himself. ‘Ladies, if you will excuse me!’ He set off up the beach as fast as the pebbles would allow in bare feet, then took to his heels as soon as he reached the road.
‘I swear all men are small boys at heart,’ Alessa remarked, as the girls shook out their skirts and prepared to follow the hurrying footman with more decorum. ‘I do hope Lady Trevick is not a stickler for punctuality!’
Chance arrived at the dining-room door in the wake of Lady Trevick, who was gracious enough to pretend to ignore his somewhat slapdash neckcloth and hastily combed hair. Lady Blackstone was already at the table, looking her usual cool self. Chance brooded on his best tactics—to make some remark straight out about the children, or not? Best perhaps not to mention them at once, or she might suspect that Alessa had been discussing her opposition to them.
Alessa caught his eye as she entered the room and smiled. Whatever had caused that antagonism had gone, it seemed. He was still puzzled by it until the thought came to him that the intensity of their lovemaking had shocked her. She was so mature, compared to the other girls, so independent, that he thought of her still as the young widow he had first mistaken her for. But she was not. She was inexperienced, although not sheltered, and they had found each other in a way that was shockingly sudden. No slow courtship, no gradual awakening. It was no wonder she had reacted strongly to him.
Chance realised he had been asked twice by Miss Trevick to pass the artichokes and pulled himself together. Absentmindedness was not going to help matters. He needed time with Alessa, time to court her properly and build up her trust.
‘A courier has arrived with the post, my lady.’ Wilkins was at Lady Trevick’s side. ‘I have placed the business correspondence for Sir Thomas in the study, but as everyone is gathered together I wondered if you wished the rest brought in after the meal, ma’am?’
‘Why, yes, I think so, Wilkins, thank you.’ She smiled around the table. ‘It is several days since we received anything; I am sure everyone is as eager as I to see what news t
here is of the outside world.’
As the staff began to clear, the butler placed a large salver by Lady Trevick’s side and she began to distribute letters. ‘Three for you, Lord Blakeney. A pile for you, Count. Lady Blackstone, Miss Blackstone.’ She carried on passing the packages out. Alessa watched her aunt carefully slit one seal with her knife and scan the contents thoroughly before passing it to Frances, who seemed to find nothing amiss in having her correspondence so thoroughly perused.
She realised that Lady Trevick was giving a far more cursory scrutiny to her daughters’ post, twitting them gently about the number of party invitations they were missing by being out of town. Would Lady Blackstone expect to read her niece’s correspondence? They were due a battle royal if she did. Then Alessa realised that there was no one to write to her, so the question was hardly likely to arise. Even so, it added to her unease about her aunt’s controlling ways.
‘Oh!’
‘Is something amiss, Lady Blackstone?’ Her hostess put down her own letter. ‘Not bad news from Venice, I trust?’
‘No, not at all, but I am afraid that Frances and I must break up the party and return to Corfu Town shortly. This letter has come on board the ship that will take us to join my husband. ‘She turned the page. ‘They must make some slight repairs, it seems, and take in supplies, so the departure is not imminent, but we should make our way back and prepare.’
Her green eyes sought out Alessa. ‘You, too, Alexandra.’
‘Of course, Aunt.’ As she spoke, Alessa realised she had definitely made up her mind. She would go to England and she would take the children, even if she had to smuggle them on board in her trunk.
Mr Harrison put down the note that had constituted his only mail. ‘Sir Thomas writes that an urgent dispatch reached him by the same ship, and he is returning directly to Corfu Town, rather than to us here. He asks me to see to his office being transferred back, and I am to join him immediately.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Lady Trevick said wryly. ‘It appears that no sooner have we arrived than I must be packing and returning. I am sorry, gentleman, but it seems our little holiday is at an end, unless perhaps you would care to keep the villa on? I can certainly arrange for staff to remain here.’
‘Thank you, ma’am, but as it is my intention to travel on to Venice, I will return with the rest of the party and see if I can take passage on this ship.’ Chance kept his eyes firmly on his hostess as he spoke, but Alessa was aware of her aunt’s own gaze flickering to Frances and a small smile curving her lips. So, she thinks she can catch him for Frances? Alessa smiled inwardly, then caught herself up. And why not? If not her, then another pretty young lady with a sheltered background and no skeletons in her cupboard.
‘Count? Do you care to stay on alone and explore the coastline in your skiff?’
They all looked at the Count of Kurateni, who for once was not relaxed and smiling, listening to all the conversations and lightly teasing the girls. He was staring at the letter in his hand, his face dark. Alessa, sitting next to him, cast a rapid glance at it, and saw it was covered in a sprawling black hand in a language quite unfamiliar. Albanian, she thought. He folded it, running his nail along the crease in a gesture that seemed to speak of anger barely contained, then glanced up, his black eyes narrowed, and realised that they were all looking at him.
‘Ha! My fool of a captain. He makes a muddle with a simple thing, makes it worse by overreacting, then expects me to sort it out for him. I must return.’
And I do not envy the captain, Alessa thought. The anger was radiating off the Albanian like the heat from a fire. Whatever the captain’s error, she suspected it was far worse than the Count was making out. Perhaps he stood to lose a lot of money. She saw Chance watching him too and raised her eyebrows. He answered her with a wry grimace, the corners of his mouth turning down in a fleeting imitation of the Count’s scowl.
Lady Trevick was organising their departures, Wilkins at her side. ‘I imagine you will be leaving immediately, Mr Harrison, and taking the papers in the gig?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I will take two outriders, if I may. I believe that will leave sufficient grooms and outriders for the remaining carriages.’
‘Two outriders, with the army units already working on the road? Is that necessary?’ Alessa saw Mr Harrison’s quick warning glance and the way he laid his hand meaningfully over the letter from the Lord High Commissioner. ‘But of course,’ Lady Trevick said smoothly, ‘one cannot be too careful with government dispatch boxes.’
‘I will ride,’ Chance said, ‘providing there is room for my valises with your luggage coach, ma’am. I have a fancy to explore off the main road a little.’He was staring at Alessa, his expression bland, but she thought she knew the message he was sending. He intended to escort her and the children back and had no intention of letting Lady Blackstone know it.
‘I will sail,’ the Count announced curtly. He stood, and bowed to Lady Trevick, something of the lazy charm coming back into his voice. ‘I will require a period of solitude to recover from the disappointment of having to leave so many lovely ladies.’
