Devil's Daughter (7 page)

Daniele grunted. “Have you heard from the earl?”

“Aye, yesterday.” He raised a mocking black brow. “My damned sister will be arriving shortly with the Lyndhursts.”

“A rare handful is Lady Arabella,” Daniele said, grinning shamelessly at his master.

“I look forward to seeing the minx. But I cannot like the fact that Rayna Lyndhurst is coming with her parents. The chit’s only eighteen, and from what Bella tells me, she’s so innocent she blushes when a rose opens.”

“She shouldn’t recognize you. With that beard, you don’t look the English gentleman—more a damned pirate.”

“Exactly what Celestino observed last night.” Adam chuckled. “Father wrote that Viscount Delford was appalled that he was allowing Arabella to come here because it was
her
wish to do so. Claimed he wouldn’t allow his daughter to gainsay his wishes, to which my father replied in that satirical way of his, ‘But, my dear sir, I want my daughter’s character to be as strong as her mother’s.’ ”

“Ah,” Daniele said comfortably, “there is that. You needn’t worry about Lady Arabella, my lord. She’s safe with the Lyndhursts. The only danger she’ll know is keeping the young noblemen at court at arm’s length. No different from London.” As he stood, he added, “What harm can a girl come to attending par-ties?”

“You, Daniele, don’t know my sister.”

“Did Viscount Delford agree to cooperate with us?”

“He had no choice. Lord Delford will keep mum about me. Father can be most persuasive.”

“Aye, I’ve been with your father since before you were born. I wouldn’t want to cross him. Now, my lord, I must go. Vincenzo will be near, and you can send a message to me anytime of the day or night at my lodgings.”

Adam rose and shook his head. “Thank you, Daniele. With any luck at all, we’ll have this wretched mess resolved and be back in Genoa before too much time. My only real concern is that Napoleon will descend with one of his armies and take Naples.”

“Nay,” Daniele said, “it will take time to break the treaty. If it should come to pass, my lord, you will simply bundle your sister out of here before she can catch her breath to protest.”

“H
ow am I supposed to feel like a princess with my slippers pinching my toes?” Arabella whispered behind her white-gloved hand to Rayna Lyndhurst. Rayna was staring wide-eyed at the sprawling magnificence of the Palazzo Reale. The palace was lit with scores of flambeaux, held high by royal liveried servants outside the palace and secured in golden wall sconces within.

“It was your idea to wear my slippers, Bella. I cannot help it if my feet are smaller than yours.”

“How kind of you to point that out,” Arabella said on a snort. “Oh, I just heard, Rayna,” she continued in a whisper, not wanting either Lord or Lady Delford to hear her, “that King Ferdinando has returned from his favorite retreat, Belvedere, and will make an appearance tonight. I understand he is sated with his latest mistress and with hunting deer in his private preserves. I also heard it said that he did not pay much attention to the game, but more to Lucia, his overblown mistress.”

“Is she here tonight?”

“No, I think she is being protected from other gentlemen’s sight at Belvedere.”

“Bella, where do you hear all these spicy things? No one tells me anything.”

“This person or that,” Arabella said, and returned her attention to the vast reception hall. Soaring white marble columns, carved with eager cherubs, divided the huge hall into smaller salons. What seemed to be miles of crimson velvet draperies fell from ceiling to floor along two entire walls. And so many beautifully attired people. The men, she noted with a smile, appeared every bit as flamboyant as the ladies, many of them still wearing wigs, some dyed in dazzling colors.

She was excited about meeting the King and Queen of Naples, but she was anxious about Adam. She scanned the brightly colored throng for him, but could not see him. She glanced at Rayna, who was standing quietly beside her mother, seeming quite nervous. She was sorry Rayna could not understand the lilting Italian, or smile, as she could, at the chattering nonsense she heard, no different from the nonsense spoken at the fashionable balls in London. She looked back to the hall where the bewigged musicians began playing at the far end of the chamber, and many of the gentlemen and ladies stepped out to dance the minuet. She finally saw Adam in the distance, in conversation with a tall young man. Was it the Comte de la Valle? He certainly didn’t look particularly debauched, with his blond good looks.

“Come, ladies,” Lord Delford said. “We are about to be graced with the royal presences.”

Arabella followed in the wake of Lord and Lady Delford. Lord Delford, tall and severely lean, was immaculately dressed in formal black velvet with frothy white lace at his throat and his wrists. His only jewelry was a large emerald signet ring on his right hand and a
diamond stickpin in the folds of his cravat. His viscountess looked a bit pale, Arabella thought, as if she hadn’t yet fully recovered from their voyage from Genoa. But she held her head high, her auburn coloring set off by a rich gown of green satin. Rayna was wearing a gown of old ivory satin, with a strand of creamy pearls about her throat. Arabella thought her young friend looked exquisite, but of course, she wouldn’t tell her, not after the insult to her feet. As they neared the royal presences, Arabella patted Rayna’s hand.

“Head up, Rayna,” Arabella whispered. “You are far more beautiful than the queen’s two daughters. I vow they’ll hate you within minutes.”

“If only I were as tall as you, Bella, instead of squat.”

“The old satyr has returned to the queen to rest for a while,” the Comte de la Valle was saying to the marchese di Galvani on the far side of the salon. “Do you know that he was ready to leave for Palermo several months ago for hunting? Sent ninety of his hounds over by ship. Acton convinced him it wasn’t wise to leave Naples, with Napoleon breathing down our necks. How the old fool cares for his throne.”

“A pity,” Adam said obscurely. He kept his gaze fixedly on the queen, not wanting to glance toward Arabella. The queen sat upon a high-backed chair, flanked by her two daughters. She looked pale and painfully aged, Adam thought, with her crimped gray hair and the wrinkles obvious on her face, even from a distance. The Princess Amélie was a tall, quite lovely young woman, but her sister, Christine, some three years older, had unfortunately inherited her father’s rather bulbous nose and his rounded shoulders. The king had not yet made his appearance, and Adam had
heard that the prince royal, Francesco, and his young Bourbon princess, Isabel, were at his farm near the palace at Caserta. He did not particularly care. He would not have come to the reception in any case if it had been his choice, but the Comte de la Valle had baited him, insisting in his hoarse voice that he must see the lion in his den surrounded by all his cubs and keepers before deciding if he deserved to rule.

“Such a pity that the
lazzaroni
starve,” Adam said in a sneering voice, “while that fat king fills his belly.”

“Ah, but the
lazzaroni
adore King Ferdinando,
mon ami.
He is one of them, you know. Despite his royal Bourbon blood, he is as ignorant as a pig, talks in the most vulgar parlance I’ve ever heard, and enjoys himself most when he is selling fish in the market.”

“You sound most critical for a royalist, Gervaise,” Adam said.

The comte shrugged. “It’s the truth. Prepare to compose your pirate’s face into a more accepting expression, Pietro. Here is his royal majesty.”

King Ferdinando, closer to sixty now than to the fifty he proclaimed, strolled into the vast salon, nodding to his right and left, acknowledging bows and curtsies. He wore rich purple Genoese velvet, adorned with thick gold braid at the shoulders and over his breast. He greeted the queen and his two daughters when he reached them, and heaved his bulk into his chair beside the queen’s.

Adam watched him greet Edward Lyndhurst and his wife, his guests of honor, and then bestow his most beguiling stare on the two rather taken-aback young ladies with them. When at last he had looked his fill, he
waved toward the musicians to begin their music again, and strains of the minuet filled the huge chamber.

“Would you look at that lovely little morsel.”

Adam turned and saw that the comte was gazing fixedly toward the Lyndhurst party. Adam’s eyes fell upon Arabella, breathtakingly lovely in a gown of pomona-green satin with rich embroidered gold binding the material beneath her breasts. Her honey-colored hair was braided into a high coronet, with thick tresses falling over her shoulder.

He said in a dismissive voice, “If you like her washed-out coloring, I suppose the girl is passable.”

“Washed-out? Really,
mon ami.
That beautiful auburn hair and those exquisite hazel eyes? And she is so very young and untouched.”

Adam’s eyes followed the comte’s to Rayna Lyndhurst, who was standing slightly behind Arabella. He started at seeing her. The scraggly little peahen of a girl he remembered had emerged as a young lady of glorious plumage. She was standing very close to her mother, gazing timidly about her. He had the unaccountable urge to tell her not to be afraid. It was all show. Adam tried to subdue the uneasiness he felt at the comte’s words.

“She has the look of a convent,” he said indifferently.

“And I have the look of a man who will scale the convent walls.”

“I believe,” Adam said thoughtfully, ignoring the comte’s jest, “that she must belong to the Lyndhurst family. He is the new adviser to Sir Hugh Elliot, I hear.”

“How convenient that I am such an ardent royalist,” the comte said. “After they have paid their respects to
their raddled majesties, I will contrive an introduction. I wonder if that other lovely girl is also a daughter. I did not know the English bred such exquisite females.”

Both females were curtsying deeply to Queen Maria Carolina, having endured the king’s ogling.

“Welcome to Naples,” the queen said, giving her hand to Viscount Delford. “You have made Mr. Acton’s acquaintance, have you not?”

“Indeed, madam,” Edward Lyndhurst said. He nodded formally to Acton, who stood beside the Princess Amélie. He felt a tug of liking for the most powerful man in Naples. He was tall, portly, and heavily jowled, but his eyes were alight with amusement at some untold joke.

“My wife is shortly expecting a baby, else she would be here to greet you, my lord,” Acton said.

“Please offer our congratulations to your wife, sir,” Lady Delford said. “This is my daughter, Rayna, and her friend Lady Arabella Welles.”

“Charmed,” the queen said, bestowing a royal smile on the two young ladies.

“As am I, your majesty,” Arabella said with a brilliant smile.

“I will agree,” Acton said, his smile widening. “Ladies,” he continued after a moment, “I will leave you with Sir Hugh, the English ambassador. He knows everyone and will give you splendid introductions. Lord Delford? Have you a moment?”

To Arabella’s surprise, the queen rose and led Acton and Viscount Delford through a narrow door behind the dais. The king did not appear to notice their leaving, for he was in conversation with an older woman
who was flirting outrageously with him from behind her ivory fan.

Sir Hugh noticed Arabella’s raised brows and followed her gaze. He said in a lightly snide undervoice, “Please ignore his majesty, my dear. He takes little notice of the running of his kingdom. The lady is his latest flirt, a newly arrived contessa from Genoa or Milan, I am not certain which.”

“This is a splendid gathering, Sir Hugh,” Lady Delford said.

“And the palace is impressive,” Arabella added.

“Indeed, ladies,” Sir Hugh agreed. “It is a pity the queen dislikes it so much. You see, the French held Naples back in 1797 for some five months, and used the palace for their own diversions. It holds some bitter memories for the royal family. They now do most of their entertaining at the palace at Caserta. But Monsieur Alquier is approaching.”

Arabella thought the
monsieur
a slippery snake when he finally allowed them to escape. Her thoughts were so clear in her expressive eyes that Sir Hugh chuckled.

“Do not, my dear,” he said quietly, “let Alquier know what you are thinking. He is unbelievably powerful. For the moment, he is content to allow their majesties to reign.”

“It is a fault of mine, Sir Hugh,” Arabella said. “I will contrive to keep my lashes fluttering.”

Sir Hugh turned to Rayna. “What did you think of Monsieur Alquier, Miss Lyndhurst?”

Rayna did not hear the ambassador. She was occupied in staring at a tall young man who was standing on the opposite side of the salon. He was dressed elegantly in black velvet evening clothes, with frothy
white lace at his throat and wrists. His eyes were a startling blue, and he sported a full black beard on his lean face, as dark as she was fair. A man shouldn’t be that beautiful, she thought, shaking her head at herself. Maybe she was wrong about his eyes; after all, he was some distance away. Maybe he had bad teeth. She remembered her father telling her “foreigners have nothing worth hearing to say and their manners have no dignity,” or some such thing. In this man’s case, she doubted her father’s pronouncement.

“Rayna, my love. Are you all right?”

Rayna blinked. “Yes, Mother?”

“Sir Hugh is speaking to you, my dear.”

“Oh. Yes, Sir Hugh, I agree with you fully,” she said.

“Excellent.” He laughed and tossed a smile to Arabella, as if sharing a secret. He led the ladies through the salon. He appeared to know everyone. Arabella was beginning to think her face would freeze into a permanent smile before they were through. She met Adam’s eyes as they approached and winked at him. A brief frown crossed his forehead.

“
Monsieur
le comte,” Sir Hugh said. “Allow me to present Lady Delford, her charming daughter, Rayna, and Lady Arabella Welles. Ladies, the Comte de la Valle.”

Rayna murmured something, unaware that the comte was regarding her closely. She barely noticed him.

“You will have to introduce your friend,
monsieur
le comte,” Sir Hugh said.

Gervaise bowed. “Ladies, my friend the Marchese Pietro di Galvani, newly arrived from Sicily.”

He has lovely teeth, Rayna thought, extending her hand to the marchese. Adam smiled down at Rayna Lyndhurst, carefully avoiding Arabella’s eyes, and
brought her slender white hand to his lips. He gently turned her hand over and lightly kissed her palm.

Rayna knew the marchese was taking liberties, but still she felt her pulse quicken at the touch of his mouth. She did not snatch her hand away.

“Signore,”
she said, raising her eyes to his face. She blinked, thinking for an instant that he looked somehow familiar. But that was surely impossible. She had never been in Italy before, and he was a Sicilian nobleman. For a long moment he held her gaze and she noticed that his eyes were an even more vivid blue than she had first thought.

Adam released her hand and looked into his sister’s face. He saw a silent warning in her eyes, and a measure of amusement. And something else, he thought. Smugness. That was it. The chit looked smug.

“Signorina,”
he said politely, bowing to her and then to Lady Delford.

“Do you speak Italian,
signorina
?” Adam asked lightly, turning back to Rayna.

“A little,” she said. Indeed, she thought, she would pay more attention now to Arabella’s lessons.