Amanda McCabe - To Deceive a Duke

‘When I have the chance to attend,’ Marco answered. He turned his smile on to Thalia, but it turned to a frown of puzzlement when he met her frank, speculative blue eyes.

Well, Clio thought, she could not save Marco if Thalia had decided he would act in her play. Anyone caught in Thalia’s crosshairs was doomed. But she still could not decipher what he was doing here. Marco and the Duke in one place? So strange.

The conversation went along most politely, turning to the social events of Santa Lucia, the objets that had been found thus far in the Greek town. Clio sipped at a fresh cup of tea, studying Marco over the painted china rim. They exchanged only one meaningful glance, a long look that promised much conversation later, but other than that he gave no sign at all that he had ever seen her before. Perhaps Thalia was right about his potential acting skills.

And Clio had to keep up her own, too. Luckily, deception had become second nature to her in her Lily Thief days. But this afternoon, smiling and chatting as if she hadn’t a care, she felt as if a bar of cold iron was pressing down on her. Making her want to scream.

Her cheeks hurt from all that smiling, too.

At last, the half-hour deemed polite for a social call passed, giving Clio and Thalia the excuse they needed to escape. As they collected their shawls and gloves and thanked Lady Riverton, the footman appeared again with a note on a silver tray. Lady Riverton scanned it quickly, and suddenly broke into a triumphant laugh.

Curious, Clio paused in drawing on her gloves. Surely there was little in Santa Lucia correspondence that could be that exciting. Not very much changed here from day to day. Until now.

‘Oh, Count di Fabrizzi, now you really must come to my theatricals!’ Lady Riverton said, carefully refolding the note. ‘It would be quite the triumph to have in attendance both an Italian count and an English duke. Two handsome young noblemen to grace my drawing room!’

‘A duke ?’ exclaimed Lady Elliott. ‘I was not aware there were any such personages in the neighborhood.’

‘There is now. He has just accepted my invitation, which I sent round as soon as I heard who had taken the Picini palazzo.’ Lady Riverton gave them a supremely satisfied smile. ‘And you will never guess who it is.’

‘Devonshire!’ guessed Miss Darby.

‘Clarence,’ suggested Thalia. ‘Oh, no. He would be too fat to get up the hill.’

‘Better,’ Lady Riverton said. ‘It is the Duke of Averton. So handsome and delightful! And he will actually be here for my theatrical evening. Won’t it be glorious?’

Thalia glanced at Clio, her eyes wide. ‘But how could…?’

Clio grabbed her hand, holding it tightly. ‘Glorious, indeed. We do look forward to it, Lady Riverton, but now we really must go before our father misses us. It was lovely to make your acquaintance, Count di Fabrizzi.’

‘Oh, no, Miss Chase,’ Marco said, giving her an elaborate bow. Only the merest shadow in his dark eyes reflected a certain dismay at the mention of the name ‘Averton’. He, too, remembered the Yorkshire dungeon. ‘The pleasure was entirely mine.’

Clio left Lady Riverton’s house, still holding on to Thalia’s hand until they were at a safe distance on the street. When she let go, it was like releasing a tidal wave.

‘Averton!’ Thalia exploded. ‘What is he doing here? How dare he show his face where we are, how dare he come as near us as—as Rome! Handsome he may be, but he is naught but a freebooter, a—’

‘A freebooter?’ Clio said, laughing despite herself. ‘Thalia, he is hardly Drake on the Golden Hind .’

‘No, he is worse. I would wager he only comes here to steal whatever Father finds in his villa. And to harass you some more.’

‘And don’t forget, to attend Lady Riverton’s party. He has definitely come for that.’ Clio spoke with a lightness she was far from feeling, hurrying her steps towards home. She longed for the quiet of her own room. The safe haven she had always found in Santa Lucia felt torn now, reshaped with the arrivals of Averton and Marco. Something was definitely afoot, something she could not see or understand. Not yet, anyway. ‘Danger,’ the Duke had said. How right he was.

Thalia hurried after her. ‘Well, then, I won’t go to that party. I have no wish to see that spoiled, arrogant—’

‘Freebooter? Oh, Thalia, we have to go. We told Lady Riverton we would, and you were looking forward to it. Everyone will need your wonderful Antigone to save them from drowning in sugary faux-Shakespeareness. There will be lots of people there, we won’t even notice Averton. Handsome or not.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Thalia said reluctantly. She was silent for a moment, then added, ‘But we will be sure to notice Count Adonis! And he will notice you .’

Clio was careful not to look at her sister, just walking a bit faster on their way home. ‘Don’t be silly. Why would a gorgeous Italian count notice me, when your golden beauty or Miss Darby’s conspicuous giggles will be near?’

‘He kept looking at you just now,’ Thalia said. Not for the first time, Clio cursed Thalia’s powers of observation. ‘If I was a reader of horrid novels, like our friend Lotty, I would call them “speaking glances”.’

‘You are just imagining things. I think all the theatricality is getting to you.’

‘I think not.’ Thalia opened their own garden gate, and went prancing up to the front door, chanting, ‘Clio has a new admirer!’

‘What?’ cried Cory, who came into the foyer just in time to hear this bit of news. ‘Clio has an admirer? Who is it? Oh! Not that silly Peter Elliott? I thought he was in love with you , Thalia.’

‘Far better,’ Thalia said. ‘A dark Italian count! He kept staring at her over Lady Riverton’s tea table. And he is beautiful .’

‘Perhaps Clio will soon be a contessa!’ Cory said, pretending to swoon. ‘And we will all live with her in Italy for ever. In her grand palazzo, with her hundreds of servants and vast marble halls.’

Clio fled their merry laughter, taking the stairs two at a time until she could slam her chamber door behind her and be alone, in silence, at last. Heaven deliver her from sisters !

And from English Viking dukes and ‘dark Italian counts’. They all knew far too many of her secrets already.

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