Joanna Maitland - His Reluctant Mistress

Leo grunted. ‘If so, this singer must be beautiful as well as talented. His Russian Majesty is reputed to be something of a connoisseur of women.’

Jack pursed his lips. ‘I wonder, though. They call her the Venetian Nightingale. Sounds more like a ravishing voice but plain brown feathers, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Possibly. Shan’t know till we see her. What’s her name?’

‘No idea. The invitation just called her the Venetian Nightingale.’

‘Hmm. We’d best be on our way if we’re to catch any of this nightingale’s trilling, since the venue is half a day’s march from here.’ He shook his head in mock disgust. ‘Damned inconvenient to be lodged this far from the centre.’

Jack shrugged off the implied rebuke and crossed to the window to look down into the square below. ‘No sign of the carriage. What the devil is keeping the man? I ordered it for fifteen minutes since.’

‘Probably not his fault, Jack. With tens of thousands of visitors in Vienna, it’s sometimes impossible to move in the streets. And with a carriage…’ Leo shrugged and settled himself into the corner of the striped damask sofa, as if he suddenly had all the time in the world. ‘Pity we don’t have an attractive woman in the Honours,’ he said after a few moments. ‘Dominic always said we needed a Queen to stand alongside Ace, King, Knave and Ten. Now imagine if we had a Queen to pique the Russian Emperor’s interest. A little pillow talk might provide just the information we need at present. Don’t know nearly enough yet about what his intentions are.’

Jack turned back from the window. His face was full of animation. ‘What about this Venetian soprano, Leo? If she has the kind of beauty to attract the Emperor, maybe we could…er…enlist her services in our cause? She’s an opera singer, after all, so she’s more or less a courtesan. If she’s prepared to sell her body to him, perhaps she could sell his secrets to us at the same time.’

Leo ran his fingers over his chin and frowned thoughtfully at the empty fireplace. ‘Might work, I suppose, though we’d have to touch the embassy for the cash to pay her. Let’s look her over first.’

‘Don’t take too long about it, Leo. We might miss our chance. The Emperor is said to change his women as often as he changes his coats. You’d have to make sure you greased her palm before the Emperor started greasing—’

‘Point taken, Jack,’ Leo interrupted sharply, shaking his head as he rose to his feet. ‘A word of brotherly advice,’ he added, frowning. ‘I’ve a deal more experience with the fair sex than you do, you’ll admit. And I’ve found that it pays to treat them all as if they were true ladies. Even members of the muslin company. This nightingale of yours may earn her living on her back, but she has probably had no choice in the matter. If you took that silver spoon out of your own mouth once in a while, you’d have more understanding of how the less fortunate are situated.’

Jack coloured and hung his head a little.

Leo shook his head at his own outburst. Their lack of real progress here in Vienna was beginning to make him as surly as a bear. ‘Confound it, I’m beginning to sound as prosy as Dominic.’ He gave a snort of embarrassed laughter.

Jack grinned, his normal good humour quickly reasserting itself. ‘I’d rather take your advice than his when it comes to women, though. Not a good picker, our noble brother. Whereas you seem to stay on good terms with all the females you encounter, even your past mistresses.’

‘Not the same as picking a wife, brat, which I haven’t done and don’t intend to start upon. As for Dominic, I admit he made a mull of his first marriage, but this time may be different.’

‘This time?’ When Leo would not respond, Jack added, ‘Is that why he was so eager to be off to Russia?’

Leo pursed his lips. It was not his secret to share, though it sounded as if his slip of the tongue had simply confirmed what Jack already suspected. Sometimes brother Jack was too sharp for his own good.

Jack’s eyes widened. ‘So I was right. But surely Dom can’t marry a girl who’s served in the Russian cavalry? She’s probably warmed the beds of half the Russian army.’

‘You know, Jack,’ Leo said grimly, taking a step forward and gripping his brother’s shoulder tightly, ‘I doubt that. Very much. And if you have hopes of seeing your next birthday, I strongly suggest you forget any and all slights on that particular lady’s honour. Unless you fancy being on the receiving end of Dominic’s fists, or looking down the barrel of his pistol.’

Jack blanched visibly, then reddened. He looked incredibly young, Leo decided.

‘I’m sorry, Leo. I didn’t think. I—’

‘That’s your problem, Jack. You speak and you act without thinking of the consequences. Good God, man, you’re twenty-four years old. High time you learned some responsibility, don’t you think?’

Jack pulled himself very erect and looked his brother straight in the eye. ‘I gave you my word about the gambling, Leo. Do you doubt me?’

‘No, not on that,’ Leo said hastily, and in a gentler tone. ‘But on other things, you—It would be wise to be a little more careful, that’s all.’

‘And to grow up, I suppose.’

‘No need to get testy with me, brat. You know I have your interests at heart. As has Dominic. It’s just that—’ At the sight of Jack’s ever redder face, he stopped abruptly. He truly was turning into a miserable old greybeard. ‘Where the devil is that carriage?’ He strode across to the window and began to drum his fingers on the pane. ‘Damn the man. We’re going to be late.’

Sophie gazed round at the applauding audience, but she did not smile. She needed to maintain her concentration for this last aria. She had sung well, but this would be the pièce de résistance . The Russian Emperor, sitting in the front row, had been clapping enthusiastically so far. If she could truly impress him, she might secure an invitation to St Petersburg. That would be a godsend. The Russian capital was very rich, and a long way from the countries she so desperately wished to avoid.

Verdicchio looked round from his place at the pianoforte, waiting for her signal. The cellist and violinist were also waiting. She took a long, slow breath and let her eyes travel around the salon. She gave Verdicchio the signal and raised her chin, allowing the low, passionate notes of the cello introduction to flood her being with the essence of the music. After a few bars, the violin joined in, answering the cello like a bird fluttering over and under denser, darker branches. And then the pianoforte, soft and sonorous—

The noise of the door opening at the rear of the salon, and of raised voices, shattered Sophie’s concentration. How dare they? With a gasp of rage, she whipped round to reach for the glass of water on the table behind her, leaving the audience to gaze at her back. The music stuttered to an untidy stop.

After a few moments of breathing exercises, Sophie was once more in control. The commotion in the salon had subsided into silence. Slowly, majestically, she turned back to the sea of waiting, expectant faces. She refused to focus on any of them. Not even the Russian Emperor. Adopting her haughtiest posture, she gazed out over their heads and allowed herself to think only of the tragic heroine whose role she was about to interpret.

At her nod, the cello began to sing. And as the harmonies of the introduction rose and swelled, Sophie opened her throat and began her aria on a single, perfect pianissimo.

The brothers’ tardy arrival was the height of bad manners, Leo knew. Jack had been so sure they could slip in unnoticed at the back of the grand salon. He could not have been more wrong; their timing was as bad as it could possibly be. It seemed that the Venetian Nightingale had been just about to sing, though she had turned away so rapidly that Leo had not caught even a glimpse of her face. But her ramrod-straight back and stiffly held neck told the whole audience that she was absolutely furious about the interruption to her performance.