A Whisper of Treason Page 3

  They had reached the end of the alley. Adam held out his arm in a protective gesture to hold her back and moved ahead. When he looked right and left, Delphi understood he was checking for possible trouble. Although she considered herself perfectly capable of taking care of her own safety, her actions this morning had been foolhardy. She must never be so careless again.

  When he looked back, she understood his unspoken message and stepped forward to join him, looping her hand through the crook in his arm once more.

  “Matilda knew the one ambition of my life was to visit Rome. They had only meant to visit for a short time, but our stay has been prolonged. Trensom accepted the position of attaché for British visitors to Rome.”

  “Laudable of him. But it gives you more time to continue your studies.”

  And to stay away from London, where she would be pitied and laughed at as the spinster Dersingham who’d let a duke escape.

  What did she care for society? Shaking the thought away, she studied the two alleys before them. She urged him towards the right. “It’s easy to lose oneself in this warren of alleyways. If we take the wrong path, we could find herself in the middle of a nest of thieves.”

  “Like turning the wrong way out of Drury Lane Theatre would take a person into the rookery of St. Giles.”

  “Exactly. This way,” she said, leading the way to the alley on the right. After a quizzical look, he followed her instructions. “You come this way often?”

  She shrugged. “Every day. I usually bring the girls, Trensom’s children from his first marriage, but Margery was not well today, so I came alone. With my footman. He does exist, you know.”

  He nodded, his lips compressed into a thin line.

  The alley led to a broad thoroughfare. She was nearly home. Delphi didn’t know whether to be sorry or glad that she would lose him soon. Despite his despicable behavior, she still felt that cord, clean as ever, tightening between them.

  It remained as bright and shining as always, and as disturbing to her peace of mind as it had ever been.

  Chapter Three

  Adam studied the front of the gracious building Delphi called home. “You’ve come a long way since you left Bunhill Row.”

  “I have,” she murmured, “and yet some mornings I wake and think I’m still there. I plan my day as I always used to before I rise.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  He turned away from the house and faced her. Delphi Dersingham still drew him as much as she ever did. But he could not allow himself to get too close to her. He’d left England thinking he’d lost her, that she would marry someone else before the coming season had ended. And yet, she had not.

  Her sisters had, her brother had, even Matilda. But not Delphi. Had nobody asked her? He failed to understand why. Not astoundingly beautiful, but attractive, the kind of woman a man would look forward to waking next to.

  Except he could not even think of that. Circumstances had changed too much and until he was done here, he could not afford to think of anyone else. But now that he knew she was in Rome, he would find difficulty keeping away from her.

  “Won’t you come in and meet Trensom and Matilda?” Her question came abruptly. Her bosom heaved distractingly under the fine lawn fichu, as if she had not meant to say it. “We could have tea.”

  “So we could.” How could he refuse an invitation like that? He’d expected the cold shoulder, but she was being gracious about his abrupt departure from Britain.

  At least he’d claimed his kiss. When he’d seen her alone, sketching, he could hardly believe his eyes. The shock of seeing the woman who haunted his dreams here, in the flesh, in Rome, had shocked him to the core. To see her on her own had angered and terrified him. Anyone could have taken her. Hurt her. He’d planned to snatch a quick, fierce kiss, merely as a demonstration of what could happen to her. But it had not turned out that way. Instead, that attraction between them had flared up to a fierce flame.

  Now he wanted her again, but he could not have her, should never have allowed himself to give in to impulse.

  He stepped into a hall decorated in the Italian fashion, with floor to ceiling frescoes of some mythological scene. Not being an expert, or at least not as much as the woman standing beside him, watching him with amused curiosity.

  “Bacchus and Ariadne,” she explained, “with Theseus as the villain.”

  “I see,” he said, careful to keep his tone neutral.

  A presence by his side told him a servant was ready to take his outer clothing. He handed over his hat, gloves and smallsword.

  The flamboyance of the floor to ceiling paintings took his breath away, as the artist must have intended. But when he looked closer, he realized that this artist was no Titian.

  She sighed. “Not the best example of Roman art, but it impresses visitors. Done sometime in the last century. Come.”

  She led the way up a broad flight of stairs after pausing to send an order for tea from a nearby footman dressed in resplendent scarlet and gold livery. An old hand at the game, Adam recognized the flamboyant costume as a ploy to impress visitors.

  Freshly invigorated from his encounter with Delphi, Adam followed her up the impressive staircase, along a long wide corridor and into a drawing room.

  This room was not as gaudy as the hall, evidently intended as a private room. A basket by the fireplace contained lengths of embroidery, books on the window seat, and an open book on a table by an armchair. It held a family warmth he wasn’t aware he had missed until now.

  As soon as they went in, a waft of gentle perfume and the swish of silk heralded the entrance of the new Duchess of Trensom.

  Adam knew his manners. Ignoring the duchess’ sly grin, he swept into the appropriate bow. When he rose, he discovered the duke standing next to his wife, so he offered another bow.

  “May I offer my belated congratulations?” he murmured. By his side, he heard a suppressed giggle.

  “Thank you,” the duchess said, a gleam of amusement in her eyes.

  She was the same but grander. Still the woman from the City of London with the outrageous taste in clothes and the total absence of the retiring nature expected of a good duenna. Miss Matilda Cathcart had never been the typical duenna, any more than her charges had been typical young ladies of fashion.

  Today, she wore a dazzling butter yellow gown, which admittedly became her. But it was the way she seemed to glow from the inside that held Adam’s attention. She seemed years younger, the sheen of happiness surrounding her. And she wasn’t alone in that. Despite the laughter lines radiating from the outside corners of his eyes and the other signs of middle age, Trensom seemed years younger than when Adam had seen him last. They had never been close acquaintances but, of course, he’d met the man.

  Trensom’s first wife had died some time ago, and they’d never been close. That was obviously not the case with his new duchess.

  A maid entered the room with the inevitable tray of tea. The duchess dismissed the maid with a word of thanks. With a flurry of small talk about the weather and the number of British people in Rome, they settled and while the duchess poured the tea, Delphi served it.

  To Adam’s pleasure, Delphi took a seat on the sofa next to him. Then she blinked at him, stiffened, as if she had not meant to do that. Adam was glad she had.

  “Do you intend to settle in Rome now?” he asked.

  “Do you?” the duchess riposted.

  “Probably not.” He shrugged, feigning indifference. “For now, I find the city more interesting than when I came here on the Grand Tour.”

  “Too busy carousing to look at the art,” the duke commented. “I know I was.”

  His admission made Adam smile, and nod his acknowledgement of that truth. “These days, I’m not frantic to explore everything life has to offer. At the time, I thought the dukedom wouldn’t fall to me for a long time. Unfortunately, it did. But I never forgot my time in Rome.”

  “Did you return to complete your youthful excesses?” the d
uke inquired mildly.

  Adam shook his head, smiling. “Only to attend to a few family matters. Tidy loose ends.”

  “And that entailed such blinding finery?” Delphi put in.

  Fascinated, Adam watched the color rise to her cheeks as she recalled her manners. Personal remarks weren’t encouraged, but he didn’t mind one bit. Not when Delphi asked.

  He answered her. “I did not go to bed last night. I was on my way home when I saw you.”

  The color became twin red flags. “Oh. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

  “Not at all. How strange I would be if I paraded myself in the streets like this all day.”

  Not wanting to answer any further questions about where he had been and why, and he wouldn’t put it past Delphi to ask, he turned to his host. “I heard from Lady Delphi that you are the new attaché to Rome.”

  Trensom grimaced. His plain blue coat with the barest touch of decoration attested to his taste, but not the formality diplomats often affected. “I had only intended to bring my family here for a private visit, but the request arrived and I decided to take it. But not for too long. We still intend to return home by the end of the year.”

  “But you didn’t stay for the summer,” Adam said.

  “No.” Trensom caught his wife’s gaze. One corner of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. “I had every intention of sending my wife and Lady Delphi north to a villa by the lakes while I attended to my duties.”

  “But we refused to leave until he came with us,” the duchess said. “Why men insist on thinking of us as fragile creatures I will never know.”

  “You must let us keep some pride, my love.” The duke took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

  Adam suffered a severe shock. He had never known Trensom to be so demonstrative before. The man was stoic, a rock. He had not shed a tear when he’d become a widower, at least not in public. In an age where men ranted, raved and wept as the mood took them, Trensom remained calm.

  Or for some other reason. “I had not heard one whisper of a new attaché in Rome.” He took a sip of tea as if the decision mattered nothing to him.

  “As soon as the permanent appointee arrives, we will be off. If they do not choose one, then I will. And damn the consequences.”

  Interesting, too, that he did not apologize for his expletive. Adam knew why, having had conversation with the Dersingham sisters before. They had taken to society well, but they still had their quirks. Living in the vibrant City, amongst thieves, merchants and the rest had given them a robustness that amused him. And intrigued him. They had a demeanor that brooked no nonsense. He liked that, too.

  “When did you leave England?” the duchess asked, froideur in her tones.

  Yes, he could understand. He knew he’d left Delphi to wonder, but he’d assumed matters would blow over, as they always did, and his heartache would be forgotten in the excitement of a new season. For her, at least.

  “February,” he said shortly. As soon as the journey became viable. A visit to Germany, then, when he’d discovered matters there, to Rome. His business was far from settled.

  But one thing bothered him. Why did the British government need an attaché in Rome? They’d never done that before, to his knowledge. There wasn’t even an ambassador here. Or an embassy, come to that.

  The presence of a British government official could prove an unwanted complication to his plans. In that case, he had better remain on friendly terms with them. Which meant remaining close to Lady Delphi. He certainly did not regret that.

  What a coil! Too shrewd to remain in ignorance for long, Delphi would unearth his true purpose here unless he played his hand very cleverly. And kept her at a polite distance, which he regretted, particularly after her sweet response to his kiss that morning.

  After Adam’s departure, Delphi tried to excuse herself, but Trensom stopped her with a, “One moment, please.”

  Sighing, she retook her seat.

  “Delphi, what were you doing at the column alone?” Matilda asked, her tones freezing.

  “Margery was ill, so she couldn’t come, but I had a figure I particularly wanted to complete. I took a footman with me.”

  “Which one?” Trensom said.

  “Riggio.”

  “An ex-footman,” he concluded. “If he ever returns. What on earth made you think of gallivanting around Rome on your own? You know how dangerous it is.”

  Delphi resented being spoken to as a small child, but she was forced to admit that she’d behaved like one. She had no excuse. “I do, but I thought I’d be safe. I was, because Adam—Kilsyth…” She bit her lip.

  They were not distracted by her slip. “You will not leave this house again without informing one of us, and without taking at least one footman with you. One approved by me,” Trensom told her. “And you will tell us where you’re going and when you’ll be back.”

  It could have been a lot worse. Shaken more than she cared to admit by her adventure, Delphi nodded. “I promise.”

  “Good. We’ll speak no more of it.”

  That was something she really admired about Trensom. No beating about the bush, no constant complaints. If she did as he told her, she wouldn’t hear about it again.

  “Still,” Matilda said in a contemplative tone. “What is Adam—Kilsyth doing in Rome?” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you know he was here?”

  “No, indeed!” Delphi protested. “Not until—until he scared me half out of my wits by accosting me!”

  “Accosting, was it?” Matilda said. “Still, as Harry says, we’ll let it die. Unless anyone saw you, of course, then we’ll have to revisit it.”

  They couldn’t possibly know about the kiss, could they? She hadn’t seen anyone taking any notice of her, and it was too early for any of their acquaintances to be abroad—unless they were finishing their day, and not starting it.

  Matilda poured fresh tea and Delphi got up to collect her dish.

  “Kilsyth,” Matilda went on thoughtfully. “I had no idea he was in Rome.”

  Delphi’s dish wobbled in its saucer, but she managed to put it down on the side table without spilling it. “Neither did I.” Not until he’d kissed her.

  “I’ll make what inquiries I can to discover what he’s doing here,” Trensom continued.

  Delphi was only too aware that Matilda’s sharp gaze did not leave her face.

  “How do you feel about his presence here?” Matilda asked softly. “At the end of last season, everyone thought you were heading for a marriage. Did you refuse him?”

  “He never asked.” She tried not to say that bitterly, but she only partly succeeded. “He just—went. You know what they were like in London, sneering and laughing at me.”

  “I do,” Matilda said. “And we concluded that if you missed the season, the gossip would die down. That, until today, was our plan. And yet you appeared perfectly friendly with him just now. I know when you dislike someone, Delphi, and I did not see that.”

  “Yes, I still like him!” she said, and now the bitterness flowed. “And he seems to like me, but what does that matter? He left me to the gossips, and I will make him pay for that.”

  Matilda closed her eyes. Trensom put his hand over hers, and squeezed gently. “Revenge? That tends to bounce back on you.” He spoke with certainty.

  Delphi wouldn’t be deterred. “I just want to turn the tables. Do to him what he did to me.”

  “Which is?”

  “I want him to fall in love with me. Then I’ll turn my back on him. If he proposes, I’ll say no.”

  “That seems somewhat extreme,” Trensom murmured. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Absolutely sure.”

  But she wasn’t, not really.

  That evening, they went to a ball held by Lady Billingham, one of Rome’s permanent residents. She occasionally traveled to London, but was a center of social events in Rome, next to the Stuart court itself.

  Whatever one’s political affiliation
s, appearances at both places were considered essential, if one was to be taken seriously.

  Especially when the lady herself came forward, hands outstretched, to greet them when they arrived. She took one of Trensom’s hands in her own. “Welcome, welcome! I am so glad you could spare the time to come!”

  Her ballroom, extravagant in the classical Roman style of frescoes on the walls, crystal chandeliers and the stateliest use of gold and rich colors, gleamed from the tender loving care of Lady Billingham’s numerous attendants. Her house, well lived in, unlike most of the houses the British occupied in Rome, had personal touches the others lacked. Paintings of the Billingham house in Derbyshire, and Billingham ancestors adorned the other rooms.

  Lady Billingham had arrived in Rome in state two years before, with her two sons, her husband and a great deal of money, which she put to good use. One of her sons returned to Britain to manage the family estates, but the other remained in residence with his parents, a man of twenty-five, newly wed to a lovely Italian lady. Delphi spied the young couple on the other side of the ballroom, their occasional glances at each other making it clear that their match was one of love.

  Lord Billingham followed his ebullient wife, as concise as the lady was verbose. For all that, he was just as welcoming. “I’m honored,” he said after the relevant bows and curtseys had been performed, “that the attaché to Rome should grace my house with his presence.”

  The twinkling look he exchanged with Trensom told everyone he did not feel snubbed. “I fail to see why the government did not ask you,” Trensom said.

  He gave a careless wave. “If they had, I would have refused. Those positions hold a lot of ceremony and signing of papers, but very little in the way of either enjoyment or remuneration.”

  Trensom heaved a sigh. “I’m well aware of that. Since we do not intend to make Rome our permanent residence, I have agreed to take the post on a temporary basis. I have no idea what made them choose me, but the government told me that one is needed, and there will be more to come. When we go home, I fully intend to resign the position. You’re welcome to it, if you wish to apply.”