Anne Herries - The Scandalous Lord Lanchester

She wanted someone special, a man she could lean on in times of trouble, a companion who would be with her throughout life, taking the good things with the bad.

Feeling the trickle of tears on her cheeks, Mariah swept them away impatiently. She would not give way to self-pity! Yet she wanted so much to be loved—passionately and without restraint. She was a fool to torture herself with thoughts of Andrew Lanchester. If he cared for her at all, he would surely speak!

Raising her head, Mariah felt angry. Why should she wait? If she were offered marriage by a man she believed more interested in her than her fortune, she would accept—and if a man she could like sufficiently offered an affair she might take a lover.

She was so tired of being a widow.

The journey to Milan was accomplished without incident and Mariah was delighted to discover that Count Paolo’s home there was one of Milan’s ancient palaces and had beautiful gardens and courtyards behind the rather faded facade. The entrance hall was large with high arched ceilings and marble floors, the sound of their footsteps echoing as the count’s English butler greeted them and took them up to their apartments.

‘Count Paolo will be with you in a short time,’ the man said deferentially. ‘He is with other visitors, but he will be with you very soon.’

‘Yes, of course, Tomkins,’ Lady Hubert said and smiled at him. ‘And how have you been keeping since we last saw you?’

‘Very well, milady. The climate suits me here and I have settled in nicely. I am grateful to you for recommending me to the count.’

‘I was happy to do so. I knew you would get on famously.’

Sylvia beamed at him as he preceded them up the wide, rather worn stone stairs to the gallery above, then turned to Mariah.

‘Tomkins worked for my father until he died, you know. He suffers with the rheumatics and decided he would like to live in a warmer climate than the east of England. Knowing that Count Paolo was looking for a major-domo for his house here, I suggested he might apply and gave him a reference.’

‘That was kind of you.’

‘Oh, no, Tomkins deserved it. He was very kind to Papa in his last days.’

They were led along the gallery to a suite of rooms that overlooked the courtyards to the rear of the house. Mariah went immediately to the window to glance out. The paved courtyard was very attractive with its slightly uneven and faded pink bricks that were interspersed with rose beds; there was a fountain with beautiful statuary and she could see a series of courtyards and gardens leading from the one below.

A man and a woman were walking at the far side of the courtyard. As she watched, the man kissed the woman’s hand and she left him, going through an arched gateway to whatever lay beyond. A servant approached the man, who glanced up at the window where Mariah stood and nodded at something he had been told.

Was he the count? From this distance Mariah could see little except that he was dressed exquisitely in the French manner and his hair was a pale silver-blonde.

She drew away from the window as Sylvia called to her, ‘This is your room, dearest. What do you think?’

Mariah went through the elegant sitting room to a bedroom. She gasped, for it was beyond anything that she had expected. Furnished in the French Empire style, which had become so fashionable during Napoleon’s occupation, the furniture was imposing and grand rather than comfortable, made of light wood strung with ebony and gold leaf, the soft furnishings in purple and cream with touches of black. The mirrors were flamboyant with gilded rococo-style frames, as was a picture that looked as if it were an Old Master. Perhaps not da Vinci, but of the same period, and the ceiling was painted with ridiculously fat cherubs, ladies of ample proportions and a satyr.

‘Good gracious,’ she murmured, a naughty gleam in her eye. ‘I am overwhelmed. Do you suppose this chamber was meant for royalty?’

‘I think Napoleon may have stayed here, though I am not certain he had this suite,’ Sylvia replied and laughed. ‘That was in Count Paolo’s father’s day, of course. He has only recently inherited the estate, you know. Hubert was the late count’s friend, but we met Paolo at the funeral and he was gracious enough to offer us his villa whenever we wished to stay near the lakes.’

‘He must be a very generous man.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Sylvia replied. ‘He would accept no payment—but I believe Hubert and the count have some business together. The count also has vineyards and wishes to import his wines to England.’

‘Ah, yes, a mutually beneficial arrangement. I wonder—’

Mariah broke off as she heard a knock at the door and then the sound of Lord Hubert’s rather loud voice greeting their host. Drawn by curiosity as much as politeness, she walked back to the sitting room with Sylvia, glancing at the man standing with Lord Hubert. Her breath caught, for he was an extraordinarily handsome man, his eyes a greenish-blue and his hair a pale blonde, but not quite the silver it had looked in the sunlight. His nose was patrician, his forehead high, his chin not square but strong and his mouth soft and sensual. He was older than she had expected after hearing that he had only recently come into his title, being nearer thirty than twenty and of a slender build. His clothes were extravagant, very French, his cravat exquisitely tied, his coat a deep shade of violet and his breeches a paler shade of the same colour; his long fingers were crowded with expensive rings. From his accent as he spoke, she thought he must have spent much of his time in France prior to his inheriting the estate in Lombardy.

She became aware that he was staring at her in a way that made her body tingle from head to toe. This was one of the most sensual, aggressively masculine men she had ever met despite his foppery. His eyes were the eyes of a predator and she knew immediately that he found her physically attractive. The smile on his lips sent a little shiver down her spine—he was a hunter and she sensed that she had been added to the list of his prey, which she imagined to be substantial.

She must be on her guard with this man or he would gobble her up! How very exciting to be sure. Life would not be dull for a few days.

‘Lady Hubert. Madame , I am delighted to welcome you to my humble home—and your friend, the so-delightful Lady Fanshawe.’ He moved towards Mariah with the grace of a large cat on the prowl. Politeness made her offer her hand. The count took it between his own for a moment, then lifted it to his lips, depositing a kiss on the palm. It was such an intimate gesture that Mariah found herself suffused with warmth. She glanced up at him and saw the challenge in his eyes.

‘Such beauty leaves me without words,’ he declared. ‘Had I known what to expect, but even your friend did not do you justice … magnifique …’

‘You flatter me, sir,’ Mariah said, but she smiled and did not withdraw her hand too quickly. His overt flirting made her want to laugh and she was intrigued. She could not imagine that Count Paolo was in need of a fortune. This house and its contents were worth a fortune alone, to say nothing of the beautiful villa at the lakes and his vineyards. No, he was not a fortune hunter, but perhaps something more dangerous. He hunted for a different kind of prey, but he oozed sensual charm. She was certain he would seduce her if she let down her guard.

‘No, I never flatter,’ the count denied. ‘I say only what is in my mind—and you are one of the most beautiful women I have met. It is a great pleasure for me to have you at my home.’

‘I am overwhelmed, sir,’ Mariah replied. ‘Your house is astonishing—such splendour and grandeur. I do not think I have seen anything like it in a private home before.’