The Seduction (22 page)

The servant departed and within moments Edward appeared. But as he started down the stairs, he caught sight of Trevor's grim expression and paused. "What is it? What's happened?"

"Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"

"Of course. Let's go in the library."

Trevor didn't speak until the library doors had closed behind them, and even then he told Edward of last night's events in a low voice.

"Damnation!" Edward muttered, sinking into a chair. "I arranged for us to leave the ball early because I assumed she was going out with you again. I had no idea. Did anyone recognize her?"

"I hope not." Trevor took the chair opposite Edward's. "Her disguise was quite good, but with all the people there, I can't be certain someone didn't realize who she was."

"Well, we'll know soon enough. Gossip travels fast. If I hear anything at all, I'll let you know." He leaned back in his chair and studied his friend for a moment. "You're certainly quite calm about all this, given the circumstances. But then, you've always been cool under fire."

"I wasn't last night," he answered wryly. "I can't believe she made me lose my temper."

"I can. Margaret has little regard for proper feminine decorum. Thank God Cornelia wasn't like that. I don't think I could have lived through it. Courtship plays enough havoc with a man's nerves as it is. I don't blame you at all."

"In any case, what's done is done. Now that she knows my intentions, it's going to be ten times more difficult to court her. She is refusing to see me."

"She might change her mind after she's had some time to think. She might relent and give you another chance."

"I doubt it."

Edward sighed. "Perhaps it's all for the best. I've seen her refuse countless suitors, all of whom were perfectly acceptable. She obviously doesn't want to marry. Besides, do you really want a wife who would openly defy you? I like Margaret, but God knows I shouldn't like to be married to her. Her independent streak would run any man into an early grave."

"Not this man," Trevor vowed.

"You are an earl," Edward reminded him. "You have your position in society to consider. I know you've already made arrangements with her father, but you're not bound by that. There are other heiresses."

Trevor didn't want another heiress. "If you think I'm giving up that easily, think again."

"But if she won't even see you, what can you do?"

Trevor stood up and started for the door. "Whatever it takes," he answered grimly.

As he walked to the carriage waiting in the street, Trevor knew he had very few options. The driver asked where he wished to go. An appropriate question, he thought wryly, and one for which he had no answer.

He knew she would be at the
Vanetta
Ball tonight, and he could easily get an invitation, but what would that accomplish? She would most likely refuse him a dance on some trumped up excuse. Even if she did dance with him, there was nothing he could say that would undo the damage of what had already been said.

It was time to take decisive action. The question was what action to take. With their adventures together obviously at an end, he would have no opportunity to get her alone. This meant he had little chance of seducing her into matrimony.

Suddenly, an idea came to him in a flash of inspiration, one so outrageous he nearly discarded it. But he thought of Margaret's thirst for adventure and romance and decided the outrageous might be exactly what he needed.

For such a plan to work, he would need the help of both Emilio and Edward. He'd have a hell of a time convincing Edward to go along with it, but desperate situations required desperate measures. He gave the driver Emilio's address and jumped into the carriage.

The following day, Edward took Cornelia and Margaret sightseeing. Baedeker guidebooks in hand, they set off in a carriage to see the church of San
Sebastiano
and the famous catacombs that lay beneath.

It was the last day of Carnival, and the carriage moved at a snail's pace down the Appian Way. Margaret was able to watch the festivities to her heart's content, but somehow, it didn't seem nearly as exciting now. She thought of those nights with Trevor and realized in horror that she actually missed him.

Margaret had refused to see him yesterday, and he hadn't appeared at the
Vanetta
Ball last night. She knew they would probably meet again at some point, perhaps in London, but there would be no more midnight adventures. She felt a pang of regret.

A rainbow shower of confetti suddenly came down over their heads, breaking Margaret out of her melancholy thoughts. Cornelia groaned in dismay, shaking her parasol in a vain attempt to dislodge the bits of paper from the netting and lace.

In the crowd that surrounded them, Margaret saw two boys, about ten years old, with a huge pail of confetti between them. She wasn't certain they had thrown it until she saw them readying to throw again. Another shower of the stuff rained down over the carriage, and she saw the boys make faces at her, daring her to respond. Unable to resist the challenge, she gathered two handfuls of the colorful confetti from the floor and stood up in the slow-moving carriage to return fire.

"Oh, Maggie, don't encourage them," her cousin pleaded. "They might do something ghastly, like throw one of those eggshells filled with flour, and then we shall be in no end of a mess!"

Margaret ignored her cousin's plea and continued throwing confetti at the boys until they gave up, melting back into the crowd.

"Really, Cornelia," she said as she fell back into her seat, "ever since you got married, you've become so matronly. Edward, you mustn't allow her to become one of those dull married ladies."

Edward gave a start and turned his head in their direction with a blank look. "What? I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

His wife shot him a worried glance. "You seem quite preoccupied this morning, darling. Is anything wrong?"

"No, no, of course not," he assured her hastily. "What could be wrong?"

"I don't know, but you've been having headaches all week, and today you seem so nervous, like a cat on hot bricks. It's not at all like you, and I'm concerned."

"I'm fine, really. Perhaps it's just all the excitement this week."

Cornelia patted his arm and gave him an affectionate smile. "I know exactly what you mean. It will be nice to leave for Florence tomorrow. Perhaps there we can enjoy some peace and quiet. Carnival was quite exciting for the first few days, but these crowds are beginning to wear on me as well."

They soon reached the church of San
Sebastiano
. The group took a quick tour, then followed the gaunt

Franciscan friar who was their guide down a narrow set of stone stairs into the dark tunnels and caverns below. Wall torches provided the only light as the friar led them through the labyrinth of catacombs. The eerie glow seemed a perfect companion to the dead and heavy air.

As the friar guided them through the narrow, curving corridor, they passed the yawning black openings of many branching tunnels. There were also many shallow recesses roughly cut into the rocks which the friar explained in his broken English were the graves of the early Christian martyrs.

The friar paused and pointed to what had obviously been a cave, but which was now completely closed off with a stone wall. He told them Christians had hidden there in the time of Nero. They had lived for years in that dark and frightening place, sustained only by their faith.

The friar's eyes seemed to take on a fanatic glow as he recounted how their hiding had been in vain. Their Roman persecutors had found them by the thousands, trapping them in the caves and walling them inside. The Christians had been buried before death and left to die of starvation.

Margaret shivered. The friar looked like a man on the verge of madness, with his over-bright eyes, long beard, and unkempt hair. She turned, staring at the pitch-black opening of the tunnel across from her, and thought wildly of what it would be like to be forced to hide in that ghastly subterranean home for years and years. It would make anyone mad. She closed her eyes and shuddered.

Margaret did not realize she was alone until she opened her eyes. The friar, Cornelia, and Edward were now out of sight. Trying to banish frightening images from her mind, she started after her companions, opening her mouth to shout for them to wait for her. She had only taken a few steps before she was grabbed from behind, and a strong hand was clamped over her mouth.

She tried to scream, but the only sound she could make was a faint squeal. She struggled as her captor hauled her backward into the black tunnel from which he had come.

"
Ssh
,
mia
cara
,"
a low, unfamiliar voice whispered in stilted English. "No one is going to hurt you."

His words did nothing to ease her fear. Her heart thumped wildly in her breast as she tried to escape, but her efforts were in vain. He dragged her through the dark corridor for quite a long distance, and Margaret finally stopped fighting, realizing she was only wearing herself out. They reached an area where several tunnels came together and torches illuminated the darkness.

Still keeping a firm grip on her, Margaret's captor turned her around to face half a dozen men dressed in the drab brown robes of Franciscan monks. One of the men stepped forward, pulling back the hood that shadowed his face, and she gasped in astonishment. "Emilio!"

The handsome Italian smiled at her and bowed. "My dear
Margaux
, we meet again."

Cornelia put her arm through her husband's as they began following the friar up the stone steps that led back into the church. "Really, Edward, what a macabre tour," she said. "Although I'm sure Margaret loved every minute of it. Didn't you, Maggie?"

Cornelia turned to glance behind her, but Margaret wasn't there. She came to a halt, forcing her husband to stop as well. "Maggie?" she called, but her voice echoed through the caverns below with no reply.

"Edward, where is she?" Alarmed, she turned to her husband. "She was behind us only a moment ago."

"You know Maggie," Edward answered, "she probably found something fascinating down there that distracted her, then she probably got lost. You go on up into the church, and the friar and I will go find her."

He beckoned to the Franciscan who stood waiting at the top of the stairs, and the friar came back down. They started to retrace their steps, and Cornelia watched them. Edward was probably right, she told herself as she turned to ascend the stairs. Even on the most mundane shopping trip, Margaret was always wandering off. This time was no different.

She took a seat in one of the pews and waited, but as the minutes went by and Edward and the friar did not return, Cornelia began to worry. Half an hour passed before she saw her husband and the friar emerge from the catacombs below. A third person was with them, but that person wasn't Margaret. It was Trevor St. James.

"Lord Ashton?" Cornelia rose from her seat as the three men approached. "What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering, Trevor turned to the friar. "Leave us, please," he said in Italian.

The friar bowed his head and departed, leaving the three of them alone in the church.

"What is going on?" Cornelia demanded, glancing from Trevor to her husband and back again. "Did you find Margaret?"

"We don't need to find her, Lady Kettering,"

Trevor answered. "We already know exactly where she is."

Margaret had never felt more helpless in her life.

She was blindfolded and had no idea where she was being taken. She only knew that she was in a wagon traveling through the Italian countryside. They had long since left the main road, and the wagon bumped along the terrain in a most uncomfortable fashion. At least three men were in the wagon with her, including Emilio, that deceitful scoundrel. Another wagon, containing the other three bandits, followed close behind.