Seduced by Innocence (3 page)

“Yes. Rufio is dead.” Maurizio’s tone was abrupt, shutting off further inquiry.

Anyone else would have been awed into silence, but Terri’s quick sympathy had detected the pain behind the curtness, and she asked gently, “Has he been dead for long?”

“Nine months. He died in February, during Carnival. It’s a time when we celebrate life, good food and wine and the joys of love.” A shudder went through Maurizio’s big frame. “And in that time he died,” he finished harshly.

“That must have been terrible for you.”

“Yes, it was,” Maurizio answered. “He was the closest family I had.”

“You have no wife or children?” Terri asked the question simply and without archness, as though she was completely unaware that she was an attractive woman dining with an eligible man.

“Neither.”

“Then you’re completely alone. I’m sorry.”

The sweetness of her voice touched his heart, and for a moment he could find nothing to say. This wasn’t how he’d planned it. He’d known in advance what Elena Calvani’s daughter would be like, and her looks had seemed to confirm it. She was beautiful in the same way as her mother, with an apparent fragility that was designed to put a man in a fever, and, he had no doubt, an inner core of steel to lure her victim to destruction.

But so far, he couldn’t detect the steel. Instead, she dressed like a woman who didn’t want to be noticed, and talked about her missing brother with a gentle wistfulness that had given him a pang of guilt for what he was concealing. And in her protective attitude toward Leo, she’d revealed herself as a kindred spirit, with an empathy that had taken her straight to the heart of Maurizio’s loneliness. It was all wrong.

He realized that he’d fallen into a reverie when he saw her looking at him inquiringly. He forced himself to concentrate. “I’m hardly alone,” he said, indicating his surroundings with a light laugh. “The owner of the Midas can never complain of too much solitude.”

“But that wasn’t what I— I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

He had a disconcerting desire to tell her that it
was
her business, that he would tell her anything she asked, in return for the relief of being able to talk about Rufio’s loss to a sympathetic heart. The need filled him with alarm. Of course, this was just one of her seductive tricks, and he must be extra careful.

“Not at all,” he said blandly. “It’s very kind of you to be interested. Tell me some more about your brother.”

“Actually, I was going to ask you about him. I know he came here a lot. Surely you must have seen him?”

“Many people come to the Midas...but yes, I recall Leo Wainright, a fair-haired young man, with a face very like yours. He was fascinated by art and wanted to be told about each of the pictures in the hotel.”

“That’s Leo,” Terri said eagerly. “He was always interested in art but he felt he had to hide it because—”

“Because?”

“Because our mother didn’t like it. Leo would have liked to be a painter, but he had to make do with learning how to design jewelry at evening class. She’d have stopped him doing that, too, if she could.” Terri hesitated, on the verge of telling him the whole story, but decided against it. It was curious how easy she found Maurizio to talk to, as though they had natural entry into each other’s minds. It was pleasant, but it tempted her to be incautious. For the moment, she was feeling her way gradually, picking up snippets of information about Leo, hopefully without attracting attention. “She felt that art was a lot of nonsense,” she finished lamely.

“But that wasn’t what you were going to say,” Maurizio said, looking at her strangely. “There’s something more, something that you couldn’t decide whether or not to tell me.”

“No, truly, there’s nothing,” Terri disclaimed.

“I think there is,” he urged.

“Well—I’ve forgotten what I was thinking,” she said hastily.

She was lying, he thought. And that was a kind of relief because it fit his original ideas about her. Except that she didn’t lie like an experienced schemer, but like an awkward schoolgirl.

“I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you—”

Terri looked up quickly to see the man who’d spoken. He looked about sixty and although he was well dressed, his face suggested someone who’d knocked about the world and gotten roughed up in the process. But he’d learned kindness and wisdom, too, if his gentle, smiling eyes were anything to go by.

“My Uncle Bruno,” Maurizio said, indicating the stranger.

“I won’t stay long,” Bruno said, “but I need your signature on a couple of forms.”

“And of course it couldn’t have waited until tomorrow,” Maurizio said wryly.

“I thought I’d clear my desk out immediately,” Bruno said placidly. “These impulses seize me sometimes.”

“I should have guessed that one of them would seize you tonight,” Maurizio responded. He spoke good-humoredly but with a touch of exasperation, and Terri had the sense of swirling undercurrents outside her comprehension.

Maurizio signaled a waiter to bring a fresh bottle of wine and another glass. “Sit down and join us, Bruno,” he said.

“Well, if you insist.” Bruno seated himself beside Terri and gave her all his attention while Maurizio flicked through the papers, adding his signature here and there.

“What do you think of our city?” Bruno asked Terri.

“I’m still new to it, but what little I’ve seen is magical,” she answered at once.

“Ah, yes. Those who see Venice for the first time always think it magical.”

She laughed. She felt relaxed and full of enchantment. “Are you trying to tell me that it isn’t?”

“I’m saying that there’s more than one kind of magic,” Bruno said slowly. “Black magic as well as white. Venice isn’t always a place of sunshine. You need to know about the shadows—secret corners where reality comes and goes and a million things are hidden. Darkness is dangerous but twilight is more dangerous still, for in the darkness we’re all on our guard.”

“And should I be on my guard?” she asked, half laughing, half intrigued by something in his tone that was more than just raillery.

“One should always be on guard in unfamiliar territory,
signorina.
Don’t believe that things are as they seem. They almost never are. Isn’t that so, nephew?” Abruptly, Bruno turned his attention to Maurizio.

“Why ask me?” Maurizio demanded with a shrug. “I’m not a poet.”

“That’s right, you’re not. Not a poet, but a man with a fixed idea. That, too, is dangerous.”

“I’m sure we’re boring the
signorina,
” Maurizio said coolly.

Bruno drained his glass. “Now I’ll leave, for I sense that I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

“Not with me,” Terri said instantly.

Bruno’s answer was an enigmatic smile at Maurizio. Then he was gone.

“Did he mean anything by all that?” she asked.

“My uncle is a poet. He talks riddles and sees things that aren’t there.”

But although he smiled, Terri had a strange feeling that he was no longer at ease. There was a new constraint in his manner and she, too, felt as though Bruno’s intervention had broken a spell. His words “secret corners where reality comes and goes and a million things are hidden” echoed curiously in her mind. It was to find what was hidden that she’d come to Venice, a city of secrets where reality came and went.

Maurizio glanced at his watch, making a sound of impatience. “Unfortunately, it’s time for me to go on duty in the casino. Will you be coming to play?”

“I’d like to,” Terri told him with a smile.

But she changed her mind as they approached the entrance to the casino. The women beginning to wander in were dressed in clothes that looked as if they cost as much as Terri earned in a year. Some of them glanced at her in frank amusement, and her self-consciousness deepened. Before she entered this glamorous place, she must be able to compete on equal terms. “On second thought,” she said hurriedly, “I’m a little tired after my journey. I think I’ll have an early night.”

“Then allow me to escort you to your room,” Maurizio said gallantly. At her door he stopped, took her hand and said, “I’ve greatly enjoyed your company,
signorina.
May I hope to enjoy it again?”

Terri drew in a sharp breath to calm the sudden beating of her heart. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how disappointed she would have been if he hadn’t singled her out again. “Oh, yes,” she said quickly. Then, ashamed to sound so eager, she added, “I dare say we’ll bump into each other around the hotel.”

“I dare say we will,” he agreed, the light of amusement in his eyes. “But did you think that was all I meant?”

Again his eyes held the look that had disturbed her before, as though everything that was happening had another meaning, a different kind of reality. It all seemed connected to the warmth that was stealing through her from her hand where he was still holding it. There was excitement in his touch and his gaze and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

“Whatever you meant,” she said slowly, “you must tell me another time. Good night.”

T
erri breakfasted in the restaurant next morning, choosing a window seat where she could see the Grand Canal in daylight. At this hour, the traffic was different to that of the evening. Now barges chugged by, laden with supplies for the hotels and restaurants. From her corner position she watched several turn in to the side entrance of the Midas where hotel workers pounced and unloaded them in minutes.

A waiter noticed her interest. “The kitchen is stocking up for the party tonight,
signorina,
” he told her.

“A party?”

“Signor Maurizio has enlarged the casino and the new rooms are to be opened tonight with a big party.”

“But I thought that business was falling off because it’s winter—”

The waiter smiled. “That’s true for other hotels,
signorina.
Business
never
falls off at the Midas.” He poured her coffee and departed.

Terri pulled a map of Venice from her purse and studied it to find the Hotel Busoni, where Leo had stayed until it closed for the winter. She located it, finished her breakfast and left the Midas, confident that she could walk to the Busoni. But after a while, she realized just how different Venice was to all other cities. It wasn’t merely that so many of the “streets” were water; the ones that weren’t water were often no more than tiny alleys, paved with flagstones. These were called
calles,
and some of them were so narrow that by standing in the middle and stretching out her arms, she could touch both sides at once.

Without warning, a
calle
would turn into a bridge taking her over a tiny canal, called a
rio,
and into a confusing maze. Within a few minutes, she was thoroughly lost and it took her two hours to cover a mile. But at last she came to the Calle Largo, where the Busoni was situated. The little alley was narrow and mysterious and contained several tiny hotels, all of which seemed to be closed.

A chill breeze blew and Terri shivered slightly. Leo had stayed here. He’d trodden these flagstones and walked in and out of that door that was now so firmly shut. But there was no sign of him and the quiet seemed to mock her.

There were a couple of shops nearby and she was about to enter one in the hope of picking up a scrap of information when a woman appeared on the bridge at the end of the
calle
and began to walk toward her. She was middle-aged and soberly dressed with neat gray hair and a dour, purposeful air. As Terri watched her, she stopped outside the Busoni and unlocked the door. Hardly able to believe her luck, Terri stepped quickly forward and spoke to her. “Please, can I talk to you?”

“The hotel is closed for the winter,
signorina,
” the woman said firmly.

“I know that. I want to ask about someone who stayed here recently.”

The woman looked her up and down. “You’d better come in.”

Inside, everything was shrouded in covers. Their footsteps made a hollow sound on the terrazzo floor as they headed toward the kitchen. The woman gathered up some mail and thrust it into her bag. “I come back sometimes for the mail and to see that all is well,” she explained. “I am Signora Busoni and I own this hotel.”

“Then you knew my brother, Leo Wainright,” Terri said eagerly.

Signora Busoni gave a wry smile. “Oh, the young Englishman. I remember him—very charming but usually paid late. He kept losing his money at the Midas.”

“That’s Leo,” Terri said at once. “Can you tell me where he went?”

The
signora
shrugged and began to make coffee. “I wasn’t here on the day he left. I was spending a few days in Verona looking after my mother who was ill. My son Tonio was in charge and unfortunately he’s an idiot. I came back to find everything in chaos, the books not kept properly, receipts lost, bills not paid—total disaster!”

“But did he know where Leo had gone?” Terri pressed her, trying to curb her impatience.

“Well, after I’d boxed his ears, he was a bit confused,” Signora Busoni said, pushing the coffee toward Terri. “But he said Leo had gone to visit friends for the weekend.”

“What friends?”

“Do you think the fool could tell me that? When I realized Leo wasn’t coming back at all, I boxed Tonio’s ears a few more times but it didn’t make him talk any more sense.”

“Not coming back at all? You mean he went to stay with friends and just vanished?”

“That’s right. I cursed him when I realized he’d left owing me money, but it was all right in the end. He sent what he owed.”

“Then you must know his address?” Terri said eagerly.

“No, a man came to pay his bill and collect his things.”

“What was the man’s name?”

The
signora
shrugged. “Rienzo—Rafaello—something like that.”

“You just let him take Leo’s possessions without even knowing his name?” Terri cried.

“I was very busy packing everything up to close the hotel. Besides, he must have been a friend of your brother’s, or why should he pay his bill?”

“Can’t you remember anything about him?” Terri asked in despair.

“Well—he wasn’t a Venetian. From his accent I’d say he came from the south. And he had a large gap between his front teeth.”

Terri tried one last time. “Could I talk to Tonio, please?”

“You could if I knew where he was. As soon as the doors were closed, that work-shy good-for-nothing took off. Said he was going to India, to hitchhike.”

Terri could have wept. She was no nearer to finding Leo than before, and his disappearance seemed even more mysterious. “Can I have a look at his room?” she asked.

Signora Busoni sighed but didn’t refuse her, and a few minutes later Terri was standing in the room Leo had occupied. The bed had been stripped bare and covers shrouded the furniture. She went through the wardrobe and the bedside drawers hoping to find a scrap of paper, or
something
that would give her a clue. But there was nothing to suggest he’d ever been there. She stood in the echoing silence and could find no sense of Leo.

She thanked Signora Busoni and went despondently out into the street. A café stood next door and she went in and ordered coffee. But when it was on the table in front of her, she simply sat staring into thin air, trying to grapple with her despair. Leo had gone away one weekend and simply vanished into thin air, and now she had no idea what to do next.

“Your coffee will get cold,” came a voice from above her.

Startled, she looked straight up into the dark eyes of Maurizio. Before she could speak, he’d signaled for a fresh coffee to be set before her. “Thank you,” she said. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“Have you been to the Busoni to get news of your brother?”

“Yes. I thought I’d got lucky because the owner returned, but she didn’t know anything. Leo went away one weekend and never came back. Someone paid his bill and took his things.”

“So he must be all right.”

“But why didn’t he contact me?”

“From your description of him,” Maurizio said thoughtfully, “he doesn’t sound like the most responsible person in the world.”

“That’s true,” she said wryly. “He might simply have forgotten—or maybe he wrote and the letter went astray.”

“Will you let me give you some advice? Don’t worry about Leo. I don’t think he came to any harm.”

She made a valiant effort to seem nonchalant. “Oh, I’m not worried. Like I said last night, Leo is such a jumping bean that—” She saw Maurizio looking at her and her pose collapsed. “Leo’s thoughtless but he’s kind. He’d have called me before this unless—
no,
I’m not going to start thinking like that. There’s still the art gallery where he did some casual work. There’s also the casino, where, according to Signora Busoni, he used to gamble the rent away. A waiter told me you’re having a big function there tonight.”

“That’s right, to celebrate the new rooms. So it will be the ideal time for you to come. All Venice will be here, not the tourists but the Venetians.”

Perhaps the Calvanis, she thought with rising excitement. Then she remembered her dull wardrobe. “I haven’t anything suitable to wear,” she mused out loud. “I saw people coming in last night and they were dressed to the nines.”

“So you must do the same,” Maurizio said with a shrug. “If you haven’t a suitable gown, it’s simple to obtain one. Some of the Venetian shops sell the highest fashion.”

“I don’t need the highest fashion. I don’t want to look conspicuous.”

Maurizio laughed, and the sound went through her like warm tremors. “Whoever heard of coming to the Midas Casino and being inconspicuous?” he declared. “When the gorgeous peacocks of Venice parade under the chandeliers, they know how the lights make them glitter, and they strive to outdo one another. Being inconspicuous isn’t allowed.”

“I don’t really see myself as a peacock. Nature didn’t make me that way.”

“How do you know?” he asked at once. “There isn’t one woman in a thousand who really understands how nature meant her to be. Only the beholder knows that.”

His eyes were fixed intently on her, and she had a terrible temptation to ask him how he saw her. But in the same moment, she felt herself instinctively withdrawing, as she always did at the first sign of a man’s interest. Part of her felt a frisson of intense pleasure at his gaze and the significance behind it, but another part, that was beyond her control, flinched.

“I know myself,” she said, fighting a sudden breathlessness. “I’m no peacock. More like a little brown mouse.”

Unnervingly, he leaned closer and brushed back a stray tendril of blond hair. “No little brown mouse ever had hair this shade of pale gold,” he said softly. “It’s the color of glamour.”

“Glamour,” she echoed with an awkward little laugh. “Me?”

Maurizio curled the tendril softly around his finger. “Didn’t you ever read fairy tales as a child?” he asked. “The princess was usually blond, whether she was called Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty, she was as fair as a spring day, and the prince found her irresistible.”

She looked up at him, puzzled at his tone, and suddenly Maurizio felt something constrict his throat. Did ever a temptress gaze at a man from eyes so innocent and candid, so dangerously concealing of her true nature? Elena Calvani’s daughter, with Elena Calvani’s treacherous ways! It was all there in the lovely blue eyes, curving mouth and small, determined chin. A seductress masquerading as an ice maiden. And such a mask! So convincing that a man might almost believe it was the real thing, if he didn’t know that it couldn’t be.

He was assailed by a mad desire to get her out of the demure clothes she was wearing and into something that would reveal the truth about her inner nature. Then perhaps he would know peace instead of being tormented by the two conflicting sides of her. The need was like a storm within him, but no trace of it appeared on his smooth, gambler’s face. “You must let me take you to a place where you can choose something suitable to wear,” he told her.

“Well—perhaps some other time,” Terri prevaricated. She was feeling rather overwhelmed by his energy.

“What better time than now? Come. I know the very boutique that will suit you.” He took her hand and strode out of the café.

There was no question of refusing, and suddenly she didn’t want to. An urgent physical excitement had blended into a feeling of happiness that swept her without warning.

After hurrying along for ten minutes, they plunged into a tiny shop, so tucked away that Terri would never have noticed it. As Maurizio swept her in, she just had time to notice a single dress in the window. It looked simple but expensive, and the fact that there was no price on it suggested it was
very
expensive. Anyone who had to ask the price couldn’t afford it. “Maurizio,” she tried to protest.

But he was already inside, summoning the manageress and greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. She evidently recognized him and regarded Terri with interest and curiosity. “My friend Teresa Wainright is buying new clothes,” Maurizio declared. “First she needs something for the big party at the casino tonight. It must be extra special.”

Signora Zena, the manageress, was tall, middle-aged and imposing. She cast appraising eyes over Terri before going to a curtained door and rattling out a series of commands. Within a few minutes, two young woman scurried in with their arms filled with gowns. “This one first,” Zena declared, indicating a creation in blue.

Terri tried it on in the changing room and emerged hesitantly. The skirt was shorter than she was used to wearing, yet she was rather taken with her new, more glamorous self. But Maurizio shook his head when he saw her. “It’s perfect for her,” Zena declared. “Youthful and daring.”

“Too daring,” Maurizio insisted.

“So? The young can afford to take risks. Signorina Wainright has a perfect figure. She should show it off. Later will be too late.”

“Hey, don’t I get a say in this argument?” Terri asked, amused and bewildered. “I like it.”

“It doesn’t suit you,” Maurizio said firmly. “Try something else.” He saw her looking at him askance and broke into a smile that seemed to make her heart somersault. “I’m being intolerably overbearing, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” the two women said with one voice.

He assumed an expression of penitence that didn’t fool Terri. This man was a natural autocrat and any appearance of regret was merely a device for getting his own way. Already she could divine that much about him. But it didn’t matter. The fact that he cared so much what she wore caused a sweet singing inside her. He should have been back at the Midas completing his preparations for tonight, but on such a busy day he’d chosen to be here with her, trying to make her appearance fit his inner vision of her. Just to know that she figured in his inner vision gave her a feeling of excitement that was filled with delightful danger. If she was to look the way he wanted, what would he do then?

At Maurizio’s insistence, she tried another dress but that didn’t please him, either. He seemed unable to explain what he wanted, yet he knew exactly what he didn’t want. At last Zena produced a white dress that Terri had briefly considered and discarded, and said wearily, “There’s only this one left.”