Authors: Catherine Coulter
“Thank God that she discovered Father in time. Do you suppose Lord Delford still loves Mother?”
“I can’t think he would be pining, not with five sons and a daughter. His viscountess isn’t a dull mouse either.”
“No,” Arabella said, “and neither is her only daughter.” As she got no particular reaction from her brother, she said, “But why doesn’t the viscount like Father?”
Adam shrugged. “I get the impression the viscount doesn’t particularly approve of any of us, Bella. Remember, he’s a staunch Englishman. He would likely deplore the thought of his children having foreign blood.”
Arabella, whose thoughts had flittered to Vincent Eversley, said suddenly, “Adam, do you have a mistress?”
At his narrowed eyes, she quickly amended, “You are, after all, twenty-six now, and you haven’t married. Surely you aren’t celibate.”
His dark blue eyes gleamed. “I will tell you, Bella, only that I am as fastidious as Father.”
“But Father doesn’t have mistresses.”
“No, of course not, not since he married Mother.”
“When?”
“You should be married. Then I wouldn’t have to suffer your improper questions.”
“Ah, but I’m not, and so you must. Mother won’t ever tell me anything, and Father just looks forbidding.”
“I really don’t remember, Bella. Near to seventeen, I suppose.”
“Good heavens. I’m twenty. I don’t like it at all, Adam, that you know things that I don’t. It isn’t fair.”
He cocked a black brow at her. “Why this sudden interest, Bella?”
“I began to wonder what all the fuss was about after Eversley kissed me. You’re the only one I can ask. I mentioned lovemaking to Rayna Lyndhurst once, and she just stared at me as if I were babbling about some black mystery. With five older brothers, you’d think she’d know
something.
”
“Doubtful, given her father. And her brothers probably treat her like a fragile little flower.” Adam was thoughtful for a moment. “I feel some sympathy for the man who must take Rayna to wife. Most English girls, for that matter. He’d have to spend his time pulling her from under the bed and drying her tears.”
“But you haven’t even seen her for—what is it, six years? Rayna is very pretty now, not a skinny little girl any longer. But you’re right, she is wrapped in wool. Perhaps what she needs is a very understanding, gentle man to teach her about things. Do you know, I think her father may not like her to be in my company. He’s always exquisitely polite, just as he is with Father, but distant. Her mother, Lady Delford, well, she’s different. Full of fun and all.”
“Edward Lyndhurst is probably nervous of your influence on his daughter. And you asked the poor girl about lovemaking? For shame, Bella.”
“We shall see,” Arabella said. She glanced toward a white marble statue of one of the Greek gods—which one, she couldn’t remember. “Men are quite lovely, I think. Yet I can’t imagine Eversley looking like that. You probably do, Adam.”
Adam felt himself flush, curse his sister’s eyes. A
mistress talking thus was one thing, but a sister, quite another.
“Adam, I don’t suppose you would consider—”
“No.”
“Well, I was just curious, you know. And I am twenty, a veritable spinster now. And you are beautiful.”
Adam grinned despite himself. He wagged his finger at her. “You must learn not to be so . . .”
“Honest?”
“So forward, Bella, and keep your curiosity behind your teeth. If you spoke this way with a man, he would think you the loosest of creatures and treat you accordingly, whether you are Lady Arabella or not.”
“I am not such a fool,” Arabella said. “I would butcher any man who tried anything with me.”
“I do not disbelieve you,” Adam said. “Eversley was lucky, only to have his shin kicked for his impertinence.” Adam glanced up at the balcony of his parents’ bedchamber. The golden brocade curtains were still drawn.
“Surely it must be time for dinner,” he said.
Rosina served dinner on the rear veranda. The earl sat, resplendent in black velvet, at the head of the table, and his countess, arrayed in gold-threaded silk, at its foot.
“I have missed this light, fruity wine from our vineyards,” the countess said. “I propose a toast. To a family united once again.”
Adam sipped his wine, watching his father’s tender glance toward his mother, and wondered briefly if he would ever find a woman who would be the center of
his life. Arabella, he noticed, seemed to be barely controlling a fit of impatience. He knew well enough that his father could not be rushed, and was content to sit back at his ease and watch the half-moon ascend over the Mediterranean. Arabella suffered through an interminable meal, scarcely tasting the flaky scallops and the fresh garden salad. When the covers were removed and ripe orange slices and nuts set upon the table, she could no longer contain herself.
“Father, will you please tell us what this is about?”
The earl cracked a nut between his long fingers, a slight smile on his lips. The small, scruffy little girl had become a lovely young woman. What had not changed, and it pleased him inordinately, was her straightforwardness, her exuberance, her utter honesty. “Certainly, Bella,” he said pleasantly. “We have lost two ships to date. I must presume that all hands were killed or taken captive, and the ships burned. I have discovered that the cargoes have appeared in Naples—at the court of Naples, to be exact.”
“But the Barbary pirates do not burn captured ships,” Adam said.
“Yes, it is odd.”
“At the court of Naples,” Adam repeated, staring at his father.
“So Daniele Barbaro has discovered. It appears that the bulk of the goods from the
Bella
have made their way from someone in the court itself to the French. If the Barbary pirates are involved, their motive escapes me.”
“But surely Khar El-Din’s son Hamil would not betray your agreement,” the countess said.
“No, Hamil would not. But I received word some time ago that Hamil is dead, drowned in a storm.”
Arabella, who was gazing intently at her mother, said abruptly, “You sound as if you know this pirate, Khar El-Din.”
The countess flashed a quick look at the earl. “Your father knew him for many years before he died. He was the Bey of Oran, in Algiers.”
“One who died not with a scimitar in his hand,” the earl said, “but in his bed, with his wives surrounding him. Hamil was his son by his first wife, Zabetta.”
“And who rules now, Father?” Adam asked.
“Another of Khar El-Din’s sons, Kamal, a young man whom I have yet to meet. Of course, after I verified that the ships were lost, I wrote to him. I received a reply not long ago in which he denies he is involved, and assures me he will look into the matter.”
“The court of Naples,” Adam said quietly. “The key lies there.”
“Yes, Adam, I believe it does. It was my intent to travel to Naples myself, but upon reflection, I did not think it wise. I am too well known there, and my presence would likely send the men responsible into hiding. That is why I asked you here. I believe that you, acting not as the English Viscount St. Ives, but rather as a wealthy Italian nobleman, would have both the entrée to the court and the anonymity you need to discover who has this unaccountable desire for our goods.”
“Could Adam be in any danger, my lord?” the countess asked.
Adam smiled grimly. “Not unless I were to wear a placard stating my purpose, Mother.”
“I believe it unlikely in the extreme,
cara.
Even if Adam were to shout that he is my son, the thieves would likely take to their heels. Still, Daniele and three of his men will be at hand, should the need arise. Adam, are you familiar with the situation in Naples?”
“I know,” Arabella said, leaning forward with her chin cupped in her hands, “that the queen, Maria Carolina, holds power, and that King Ferdinando is a buffoon without much of a brain.”
“Not uncommon,” the countess said.
“Perhaps it is the way of the future,” Arabella said, grinning toward her brother.
“You are interrupting us, Bella,” Adam said. He leaned forward like his sister to rest his chin atop his folded hands. “The queen was Marie Antoinette’s sister, was she not?”
“Indeed yes,” the earl said. “Thus, in large part, the reason for her hatred of the Jacobins, and Napoleon. The murder of her sister and Louis profoundly affected her, and she vowed that the French would never take the Two Sicilies. But she stands alone. The Spanish Bourbons are helpless and the Austrians dither first one way and then the other. Only the Treaty of Amiens keeps Naples from French hands, and it will not be enough. Even now, Maria Carolina and Ferdinando must dance to Napoleon’s tune to survive.”
“This is all well and good, Father,” Arabella said, “but there are so many people at court. Where is Adam to begin?”
“Your sister,” the earl said with a smile to Adam, “terrifies me. She never loses sight of the mule’s destination. Well, Bella, Daniele has discovered that one of the many French émigrés to the queen’s court is the
Comte de la Valle, a young man of rather questionable morals and loyalties to the crown, who perhaps knows more than he should about our Caribbean rum. He plays the role of the displaced French émigré and is accepted at court, very much in the queen’s good graces. There is something else about him you should know, Adam. Do you remember the Hellfire Club in England some twenty-five years ago?”
Adam snorted. “A group of satanic revelers, weren’t they?”
“An affectation Naples does not seem to have yet discovered. But it appears the Comte de la Valle may be involved in a similar group, Les Diables Blancs, the white devils, they call themselves. He has managed to draw some young Italian nobles in with him.”
“It appears,” Adam said, “that I shall find myself equally drawn to this charming Comte de la Valle.”
“Adam, a white devil,” Arabella said. “You will fit marvelously well, brother.”
“I doubt I will be bored.”
“There is a problem, Father,” Arabella said suddenly, one dark brow arching upward, “but also a solution, I think.” She felt her heart begin to pound with excitement, for she knew what she wanted. Go slowly, my girl, she told herself.
“What is,
cara
?”
“The Lyndhursts will soon be journeying to Naples. Rayna told me the queen’s minister finally succeeded in convincing Addington to send her father to the court of Naples as a military adviser and aide to England’s ambassador, Sir Hugh Elliot.”
“Rayna is accompanying her parents?” the earl asked. At his daughter’s nod, he murmured, “I can’t
imagine why Delford, of all people, would want to take his daughter to a foreign court.”
“Why did you not tell me this, Bella?” Adam asked.
Arabella shrugged. “Mother knew, but you, Adam, did not seem interested. Now they are a problem to you.”
“That is an understatement, Bella. Good God, sir, the Lyndhursts have known me since I was born, and would recognize me in an instant.”
“Can you not simply write to Edward, my lord,” the countess said, “and request his presence here before he travels to Naples? You can explain the situation to him and ask that he keep silent about Adam.”
“Aye, I can, though I doubt that Viscount Delford will be greatly pleased.”
“But you’ve forgotten Rayna,” Arabella said, quite pleased with her timing. “She too might recognize Adam, though she hasn’t seen him for years. For her, I have the perfect solution.”
“Oh?” the earl said carefully.
“Yes, indeed, Father.” She drew a deep breath and plunged onward. “I will journey to Naples with the Lyndhursts, as their houseguest. I so long to see Naples, Father, and if Rayna even suspects Adam looks familiar, why, I could well convince her otherwise. And who knows? Perhaps I can help Adam discover who is behind all this.”
“Like hell you will,” Adam said.
“Just because you are a man, Adam—”
The earl raised a stilling hand. “I, for one, wish to think about all this. The both of you can argue to your hearts’ content once your mother and I are gone.” He lightly tweaked his daughter’s chin. “A holiday in
Naples? I am not certain if the gentlemen at court could survive such a whirlwind. We will speak of it tomorrow.”
The earl rose, smiled thoughtfully at Adam and Arabella, then offered the countess his arm.
No sooner had their parents left the veranda than Adam said firmly, “Arabella, I do not want you in Naples.”
“And why not, may I be so bold as to ask? I have more chance of charming information out of a gentleman than would you.”
“This is not a game, Bella.”
“Ah, ye never change,” Scargill said, emerging from the shadows onto the balcony. “All ye do is scrap.” He took a puff from his pipe and blew a thoughtful cloud of smoke upward.
“Adam,” Arabella said firmly, “is being a brother, Scargill.”
“Since this twit is my sister, I must protect her despite herself.”
Arabella threw her napkin at him, jumping to her feet. “It will not be your decision. Father is not so unreasonable. And I will go to Naples with the Lyndhursts, you will see.”
Scargill blew another cloud of smoke, and shook his grizzled white head. “Do ye want yer dueling pistols now?”