AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Seventeen
“I believe congratulations are in order, Miss Jones.” Miss Sharp’s smile was as sincere as that of a Cheapside costermonger trying to off-load a cart of bruised apples or yesterday’s fish.
Nevertheless, Artemis graciously inclined her head. “Thank you, Miss Sharp.” She’d just arrived at Dartmoor House in Lady Northam’s carriage, sans chaperone, as Dominic had planned. He’d sent word to Cadogan Square early this morning confirming the details of her visit and that his daughter had been far from happy to learn that he’d be marrying again. “I trust Lady Celeste is well?” The governess’s answer would determine whether Artemis needed to don full battle armor or not.
In the distance, she could hear the light tinkling notes of a pianoforte. She assumed it was Celeste playing the jaunty tune—some sort of polka or mazurka. Perhaps armor wouldn’t be required after all.
“Oh, as well as can be expected under the circumstances,” the governess replied cryptically.
Under the circumstances.Did the woman mean, as well as can be expected given Lady Celeste’s secret paramour had apparently deserted her? Or that her father had just announced his betrothal to a veritable nobody who used to be a lowly finishing school teacher? Artemis had no idea, but it was clearly a petty swipe. And unhelpful.
“I see,” said Artemis carefully. “I take it that she is still willing to receive me? Dominic—I mean, His Grace—informed me that it was all arranged.” As she spoke, she raised her bare left hand to her throat to quite unnecessarily fiddle with the lace of her collar. Drawing Miss Sharp’s attention to her ruby and diamond engagement ring was equally as petty, but Artemis couldn’t seem to help herself. The governess was infuriatingly supercilious.
Miss Sharp made a show of looking at the watch pinned to her bodice. “I’m afraid she’s currently having a dancing lesson with Signor Giovanni Moretti. It was a last-minute change of plans. He’s one of London’s finest dancing masters, and because his time is precious, one doesn’t quibble. If you’d like to wait…” She gestured toward a tiny parlor near the front door.
Artemis almost laughed at the woman’s audacity. She was certain who was responsible for the last-minute change of plans. “No, I’m happy to observe the lesson if Lady Celeste doesn’t mind. After all, sheisexpecting me, so I wouldn’t want to disappoint her. Or Dominic. I mean, His Grace.”
Miss Sharp pursed her lips. “Yes. Certainly. This way.” She swept from the entry hall and led Artemis down a wide gallery toward a grand set of doors flanked by two liveried footmen. The music grew louder, and Artemis heard a light feminine laugh.
She frowned. For someone who was reported to be vacillating between “lovelorn” and “seething with anger and resentment,” Lady Celeste clearly enjoyed her dancing lessons.
As soon as Lady Celeste saw Artemis, she stumbled and stepped on the toes of her middle-aged dance master—Signor Giovanni Moretti, Artemis presumed—and the music stopped. But Signor Moretti wasn’t the only man in the room. Seated at a pianoforte in a far corner by an arched window was an attractive young male with tousled black hair, olive skin, and dark soulful eyes. And Artemis’s senses were immediately on high alert.
“Who is that?” she murmured to Miss Sharp, but the woman ignored her question.
“Lady Celeste”—the governess bobbed a curtsy—“Signor Moretti, Master Antonio”—this last remark she directed toward the man at the piano—“my apologies for the interruption. Miss Jones here insisted on observing. She didn’t think you’d mind, my lady.”
Artemis inwardly rolled her eyes. To the duke’s daughter, she curtsied then said, “Lady Celeste, it was not my intention to disrupt your lesson by any means. Please do carry on. Our engagement…” She inwardly winced. Why on earth did she usethatword? “Our appointment,” she amended, “can wait until later.”
Lady Celeste inclined her head. However, her gaze was decidedly cool as she said, “Of course, Miss Jones. My father mentioned you were paying another visit. And that I am to receive you.” Then she turned back to Signor Moretti. “Shall we continue with the mazurka, Signor, or should we try that new style of Viennese waltz that’s all the rage?”
Her message to Artemis was loud and clear:You might be my father’s fiancée, but that is of little consequence to me. Of so little consequence, I’d rather have a dancing lesson than speak with you. And when I do so, it will be under sufferance.
And Artemis had thought it was Miss Sharp’s idea to reschedule Lady Celeste’s dancing lesson.
She followed the governess across the marble floor and took a seat by one of the windows to observe. Although Miss Sharp didn’t seem all that interested in the proceedings because she picked up a book and began to read.
Interesting.Artemis turned her attention back to Lady Celeste. The girl was graceful and a quick study. In no time at all she’d mastered a new set of intricate steps and was whirling about the ballroom with Signor Moretti.
The pianist was excellent too. He hadn’t missed a note of the fast-moving waltz. And that was despite the fact that his eyes never left Lady Celeste. Artemis leaned toward Miss Sharp. “Master Antonio, is he Signor Moretti’s regular pianist?”
The governess lowered her book. “Yes. He’s Signor Moretti’s nephew. He comes to every lesson.”
“And how old is he?”
“I’d say nineteen or twenty.”
Hmmm.Artemis studied his expression. His dark gaze was rapt as he watched the duke’s daughter spin around the room, her elegant movements swathed in undulating swirls of lilac silk. “And do you always observe Lady Celeste’s dance lessons?”
The governess gave a haughty sniff. “Most of the time. If I’m not here, Lady Celeste’s maid, Yvette, is. And there are always footmen at the door. My lady is never on her own.” The woman’s gaze narrowed and she whispered, “You’re not suggesting that Master Antonio is my lady’s mysterious paramour, are you?”
Artemis sent the governess a speaking look. “Since I’ve been here, he hasn’t stopped watching her. And she keeps casting lingering glances his way too.”
“What rot. If that were the case, I would have…” Miss Sharp’s voice trailed off as she caught sight of her charge sending Master Antonio a secretive smile over Signor Moretti’s shoulder as they whirled by the piano. “Oh…” The governess swallowed and put down her book altogether. “But his name begins with ‘A’,” she murmured. “He can’t be ‘T.’”
“Why not? Tonio, Toni, and Tonino are common enough diminutives of Antonio. Using a shortened, more intimate version of one’s name would be entirely fitting for a love note.”
“I… Well…” Miss Sharp’s face had turned scarlet. “I never considered it, but perhaps…”
