Love Play by Rosemary Rogers (22 page)

"I ... see!' Sara said weakly. She had already forgotten what they
had been talking about to begin with while she tried to follow, and her mind
was whirling with bits and pieces of trivia. A bandit ... a second-storey man .
, . actually the Duke's half brother! And what would Marco think if he knew
that she was out here sharing the stars with . . . with this very eccentric
man? A shudder ran through her. He would probably kill her, since he had begun
to treat her like an odalisque in his harem!

'Well, anyway, as I was saying, I hope you'll let me know when you
decide to visit your mama. I would sure give a lot to be able to meet her and
actually talk to her. If you could see me, I think you'd say I wasn't a
bad-looking man at all -- and I keep myself fit, as you might have noticed. I'd
be available any time at all - business is rather slow these days, like it is
everywhere else, I guess!'

Sara had to fight down the urge to burst into hysterical giggles that
would probably make her his mortal enemy. Don't wonder about his business and
concentrate on the advantages of this chance meeting. Why, dear Angelo could
live up to his name and rescue her if she ever needed rescuing. The thought
made her feel much more sure of herself.

'How can I let you know if— when I decide I should pop in on Mama-Mona?
And - ' she hesitated, but finished saying it anyway — 'what if. .. if Marco
doesn't want me to leave? You might not want to make him angry with you ...'

Her strategy worked and he was immediately a strutting rooster, puffing
his feathers. 'Marco — hah! You don't have to worry about a thing there, kid. I
don't know what's between you and Marco, and it ain't none of my business, but
your wanting to see your mama, who happens"to be the one pure love of my
life,— ' he crossed himself quickly — 'well, I make that my business, see? And
to show I trust Mona Charles's daughter with my life I'll tell you how to send
a message to me . . . Just send it, and I will come right away.'

Some time during the night Sara managed to fall asleep, when her mind
had become tired out with plans and speculations. Even her sleep was restless,
and she woke up tired, not wanting to leave her bed; in no mood this heat-hazed
morning for another confrontation with her tormentor. But hadn't she been
promised that she might go riding with him?

'You said in one of your interviews that you are afraid of horses, so
what is the meaning of this new whim of yours? I have no time to give riding
lessons to timid Hollywood starlets!'

'But... but I truly want to get over my fear! It's probably just a
stupid phobia that I could get over by just trying it... With_you to give me a
few pointers, naturally. Please let me try! I do pick up things quickly,
honestly I do!'

Oh, she'd really had to plead before he'd given in! But she'd been
eyeing his horses, all blooded stock, and the urge to be on horseback again had
proved too strong to resist. The hardest thing she'd have to do was to convince
Marco that she had never ridden a horse before - and was a natural-born rider
by some fluke of fate.

Sara sighed deeply and closed her eyes against dustily intrusive arrows
of sunlight that seeped into the room through cracks in the shutters and
blinds. Fate was a funny thing, even if she had never quite believed that
everything was preordained. It was also a useful word to help explain why she
happened to be here; and why she had encountered the talented and talkative
Angelo last night. What she could not explain was why she had been practically
drawn out on to the terrace last night, and why she. had almost known
beforehand what would happen next. She frowned. Not quite. Angelo she had not
expected!

'I beg your pardon, signorina. But I have been asked to convey II Duca's
apologies for not being able to take you riding today. He has been called away
for a few hours on business. Do you wish to sleep a few hours longer?'

Sara had not heard the housekeeper come in, and her eyes flew open with
a startled jerk.

'Oh . , .' she uttered blankly wondering why she felt so disappointed
when just a few seconds ago she had debated sending her excuses down to him!

'If there is anything else you wish to do, signorina?' During the past
few days Serafina had unbent quite a bit, especially when she had realised that
II Duca was not visiting the bed of his latest female guest. She had even shown
Sara some pictures of Carlo as a young boy, over which Sara had had to exclaim
fondly. There had even been a stiffly posed picture taken with his older
brother. Marco's scowl that drew his black brows together in a dangerous
fashion had certainly not changed with the years that had passed since then!

Now, not wanting to spoil her morning by thinking of her quarrels with
the high-handed Duca di Cavalieri, Sara stretched languidly as she gave the
older woman a sleepily apologetic smile. 'I'm so sorry, Serafina, but I'm not
quite awake yet, I'm afraid! I... I found I could not fall asleep too easily,
and - ' she laughed a bit nervously as she remembered her strange fancies last
night - 'and, well it almost seemed impossible to resist taking a look at the
stars! In the end I - '

Sara broke off when the housekeeper said with a sharpness that was
unusual for her: 'You . . . you didn't go out, signorina?' She seemed to have a
peculiar look on her warned brown face as she waited for Sara to answer, eyes
fixed on Sara's face.

Why? Or was Serafina also aware of Angelo's nocturnal comings and
goings? Was that why she suddenly seemed so

nervous?

Sara tried to choose her words carefully, not wanting to betray Angelo,
who had actually offered to help her. 'Well .... yes. But please don't look so
worried, I only went out on to the terrace to enjoy the night by myself for a
little while, and after a while I came back inside and went to bed, that's
all.'

Serafina continued to regard her intently. 'That was all?' she repeated
with a strange emphasis on the question. Then t as if she had suddenly
remembered herself the woman's eyes dropped away for a moment, and she said
almost brusquely, 'You might have caught a chill in that thin nightgown,
signorina! The nights can turn cold when a wind comes up from the sea, and at
night. . . everything is different. You might have lost your footing . . '

'But there's nothing
 
there I
 
could
 
trip over.'
  
Sara

Objected
 
reasonably . What on
earth had upset the normally inscrutable Serafina? Angelo? Something else?
Pacifically,she gave a little laugh and offered: 'Actually I didn't even intend
to go out, I just opened the curtains for air and I felt - '

'You felt what, signorina?'

'Oh - I'm sure it had something to do with the beauty of the kind of
night I'm not used to! There was the perfume of the flowers and the salt smell
of the sea and the warmth of the stones . . . you must probably think I'm quite
crazy, but I felt ... as if I couldn't help myself — or was going through a set
of motions I had gone through before . . .' Sara had begun frowning as she
tried to recall exactly what she had felt last night before Angelo had dropped
in on her so unceremoniously. 'As if I was waiting for something, almost.
Silly, isn't it?'

'No, no - not silly! Madre di Dio, that you should feel it too, and you
not yet in the family . . .' Serafina's agitation showed openly now as she
fingered her rosary beads.

'Not in - feel what too? Please — I can see that you're upset, and I'd
like to know why.'

Serafina's mouth pursed stubbornly and she shook her head. 'The Signor
Duca would say that I'm a silly, superstitious old woman and would send me
away.'

'I wouldn't tell him anything, I promise! But you can't not tell me now,
can you? I'd die of curiosity - and probably imagine the worst. . . Did someone
fling themselves from the terrace wall? Is that why - ' Sara had wrapped her
arms about her knees almost apprehensively.

'No, no! What an idea!' Serafina said crossly. It was plain to see she
was already sorry for having said too much. 'It was nothing like that? she said
in a more subdued voice, and then gave a sigh. 'The little terrace was more a
setting for ... foolishness than an act of violence, signorina. Since you are
to marry the Signor Carlo, I suppose you would hear the story in any case.
There is always gossip . . .'

'What story?' Sara asked, with all the patience she could muster.
'Please, what was this foolishness, and what does an old story have to do with
what I felt - or thought I felt?'

Serafina's back straightened, and she gave a resigned nod of her head.

'Very well — I see I will have to speak. But first, if you don't mind, I
will make sure that there are no maids working in the galleria outside who
might listen.'

Chapter 20

'She was Spanish, you see, and very beautiful, very young. Also
 
of a good family - II Duca would not have
married her

othrwise. You noticed her picture in this room and asked me who she was,
did you not? These were her rooms, which she used when II Duca was away — and
he was away for much of the time. I myself was young at the time — I was one of
the maids who cleaned her room, and sometimes she would talk to me, from
loneliness.' Serafina's mouth had seemed to soften for an instant, but now it
turned down at
 
the corners. 'The
Duchessa did not like to be alone. She had had
 
a child in the first year of her marriage — a son
 
- knowing it was her duty. But with the child
being taken care of by his nurses, and her husband away, the young
Duchessa
 
had too much time to spend
alone . She took to Spending much time out on the terrace during the
long,warm
 
nights - sending away her
personal maid and locking her
 
door for
privacy. Too much time, perhaps. She too loved the stars and the scents of the
night.'

Serafina's voice had suddenly turned dry, and she paused significantly.
And suddenly, Sara understood. Of course. A loverr. The young, lonely Duchess
had taken a lover who used to meet her at night, when her husband was away. She
might have been a sensual, passionate woman who longed for love - and made the
mistake of looking for it in the wrong place, poor thing!

Defiantly , Sara said it aloud. 'Poor thing! Think of how many nights
she must have waited out there alone — and frightened, probably. Waiting for a
signal that her lover had arrived. It's like an opera!'

The old woman's face wore a funny look, and she seemed to clutch her
rosary tighter. 'So you felt that too, did you? Yes, signorina, she used to
wait for him to give a whistle that was like a bird call. She would go down by
a stairway that is blocked off now to meet him. Or he would come up to her.
After a while, it had to happen that they were found out. By the servants
first. And later . . .'

Sara didn't want to heat the rest - the inevitable unhappy ending to a
beautifully romantic love affair. She interrupted quickly: 'But who was the man
- her lover? After all, the Duke himself couldn't have been much of a saint,
could he? He probably had mistresses everywhere, while he expected her to do
her duty and go on producing his children - when he deigned to help in the
matter, that is! Oh - honestly! - I'm sorry, signora, you probably don't agree,
but after all... all this took place about thirty or forty years ago, didn't
it? And divorce wasn't too unheard of. . .'

'In Sardinia divorce is still unheard of! The scandal would be a very
bad thing even now, but in those days . . . coming from America you would not
understand, signorina. For a married woman to be unfaithful to her husband is
bad enough, but when the woman is a Duchessa and her love a peasant from the
mountains who was formerly her groom - you understand the consequences?'

Sara had to swallow before she said in a strained voice: 'She .. . died,
didn't she? And he killed her, making it look like an accident... and they let
him get away with it, didn't they? Because he was a man and it didn't matter if
he had his village by-blows tike Angelo, but for her - '

Suddenly realising what she had said, she could have bitten out her
tongue, but fortunately Serafina - who had looked shocked when Sara made her
accusation — merely looked resigned at the mention of Angelo.

'Ah, that Angelo -I should have guessed that he would have found a way
to see you! But you mustn't say that about Il Duca, signorina. Only God knows
what he must have felt to come back home and find his Duchessa had run off to the
hills with a peasant. And worse, to have everyone know.'

'She ran away with her lover?'

'Yes.' Serafina inclined her head stiffly. 'And that was not the worst
of the scandal. Much worse was when she had the child, up in a small stone hut
in the mountains where the bad men hide out. Her lover's child, who by law bore
her husband's noble name.'

This was even better than an opera, Sara thought, listening entranced.
And maybe Delight had been mis-informed and the story did have a happy ending
after all.

'What happened to the child?' she prompted. 'And to her, the lovely
young Duchessa who gave up everything for love?'

"The poor Duchessa took ill and died — she wasn't used to the cold
up in the mountains or to sleeping on the ground in
 
a stone hut.' The old woman's voice sounded
harshly prosaic. 'And as for what happened to the child, signorina, why . . .
you met him! Or you must have, to know his name.'

 
'Angela? You mean Angelo is her
child and not . . . and not his? Sara heard her voice rising and stopped to
take a breath. 'But what about the Duke? I thought he was –'

'Once she had left him, the foolish young Duchessa, the Duca had nothing
more to do with her. How could he? No one here blamed him when she died — and
she, poor weak thing, should have had more pride than to send word to him,
begging for a doctor, begging to come back with her
 
child. Ah - it was a bad thing, and better
forgotten.'