In the Tudor Court Collection. Amanda McCabe

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acquaintance. Kathryn was not certain that she was so pleased to have a stranger as her guest, though she had accepted her graciously.

      ‘Of course Mistress Rowlands may stay with me, Lorenzo,’ she said, her dark eyes sparkling as she looked at him. ‘You know that I would do anything you asked of me.’

      Why, she was flirting with him! Kathryn realised it and felt a spurt of disgust. The Contessa was years older than him!

      ‘You are generous, Contessa,’ Lorenzo said, an amused glint in his eyes. ‘I shall return as soon as possible. In the meantime, I shall make some provision for Kathryn. Should I not return from the coming encounter, there will be sufficient money to see her safely back to England.’

      ‘As you wish, my friend.’

      The dark eyes were speculative as the Contessa looked at Kathryn.

      ‘My servant will take you to your room. I am sure you must wish to tidy yourself after so long at sea.’

      Kathryn sent Lorenzo a look of appeal. Now that he was about to leave her, she felt as if she were being abandoned. She wanted to cling to him, to beg him not to leave her, but knew that she must not let him see how she felt.

      ‘I shall see you again before we leave,’ he said, smiling at her reassuringly. ‘There are preparations to be made and I have much to do. It may be three or four days before the rest of my fleet can join me, and another two before we put to sea.’

      Kathryn nodded. She fought her tears. Her heart felt as if it were being ripped in two, but she must not weep.

      ‘You must not think of me. You have your duty—but I would have news of my uncle and aunt…’

      ‘I shall not abandon you,’ he said and smiled. For a moment her heart lifted as she saw something in his eyes—a look that she had seen only once before. ‘Go with the Contessa’s woman now. She will take you to your chamber. You should rest for a while.’

      Kathryn had obeyed him. There was so much she wished to say and could not. Now, alone in this room, the guest of a woman she instinctively knew disliked her, Kathryn admitted to herself that she was in love with Lorenzo Santorini. She did not know how it could have happened, for she had been determined to dislike him. Now she knew that she would find it unbearable if she were never to see him again. If he should be killed…She could not think about it. It was too painful.

      ‘The Contessa asks that you will come down to her salon as soon as you are ready.’

      Kathryn turned, her heart sinking as she looked into the hostile eyes of the Contessa’s servant. She was not welcome here in this house—but what could she do? Lorenzo had brought her here and there was nowhere else for her. Her abduction had taught her how vulnerable she was. She was dependent on Lorenzo’s generosity, at least until there was some news of her friends.

      She followed the servant down to the grand salon where the Contessa was waiting for her, and her heart sank as she saw the expression in the older woman’s eyes. She had pretended to be welcoming while Lorenzo was here, but there was no mistaking her hostility now.

      ‘So,’ the Contessa said. ‘I must make you welcome since Lorenzo asks it of me. In return I demand that you behave with proper modesty while in my house, Mistress Rowlands. I would not have you disgrace me before my friends.’

      ‘In what way do you fear I shall disgrace you?’ Kathryn lifted her head, eyes flashing with pride. She felt humiliated and was angry. What was this woman implying?

      ‘You have been travelling alone with Lorenzo Santorini. You stayed with him at the Santorini Palace in Venice. What do you imagine people will think of you if they discover your shame?’

      ‘I have done nothing to be ashamed of—and I had my maid with me at the palace, and on the journey from Venice to Rome.’ Kathryn did not tell her of the time she had spent alone on Lorenzo’s galley after her abduction, for it could only make her situation worse. ‘This awkwardness is not of my making.’

      ‘A servant is not a chaperon. You have forfeited your reputation, girl,’ the Contessa said harshly, her mouth twisting with spite. ‘What you choose to do is your own affair, but do not shame me by speaking of it in public, if you please.’

      Kathryn’s cheeks flamed. Her anger at being spoken to so unfairly banished the tears that had been hovering. Had there been any other alternative she would have left this woman’s house at once, but there was no way out for her. She must endure the Contessa’s spite, at least until Lorenzo was ready to escort her to her home.

      ‘I shall behave as befits an English gentlewoman,’ she said with dignity. She lifted her head high, refusing to be cowed by the woman’s hostility. ‘I cannot change your opinion of me, Contessa. For both our sakes, I hope that Lorenzo will remove me from your house very soon.’

      ‘Very well. This has been distasteful to me, Mistress Rowlands. This evening I attend a private supper at a friend’s house. Tomorrow evening there is a grand reception, which you will attend with me. I hope you have suitable clothes?’ Her tone suggested that she thought it unlikely, stinging Kathryn on the raw.

      ‘My trunks are on the ship. Once they are delivered, I believe I shall not disgrace you.’

      ‘See that you do not.’ The Contessa waved her hand. ‘You may go. I shall tell you when I require your presence. If you wish, you may use the gardens and the salons at the back of the house.’

      Kathryn left the room, her back very straight. She was humiliated and upset, but anger made her keep her spirits up. How could Lorenzo have brought her to the house of such a woman?

      Kathryn dressed in a gown of dark green silk the following evening. She wore a small ruff of gauze that was stiffened with wire and stood up at the back of her neck. Her hair was swept up on her head and covered by a green velvet hood trimmed with silver and brilliants. It was the most matronly of her gowns and chosen to make her look as ordinary and respectable as possible.

      The Contessa looked her over as she went down to join her in the salon. ‘Yes, that is well enough,’ she said, her mouth sour with disapproval, for even in this plain apparel Kathryn was beautiful, young and desirable. ‘Do not forget what I have told you.’

      ‘I shall not forget.’

      Kathryn would have preferred not to accompany the Contessa to the reception that evening, but she had little choice. She must do as she was told while she lived under this woman’s roof.

      The reception was being held in a large villa built in the hills overlooking the city. Kathryn joined the other guests, smiling but saying very little as she was introduced to the Contessa’s friends as the ward of a dear friend. She was in public a very different woman, smiling and calling Kathryn a sweet child, which made Kathryn want to run away and hide.

      However, she stood obediently at the Contessa’s side, speaking only when addressed and wishing that the evening might be over. She liked none of these people and remembered how kind Aunt Mary’s friends had been to her in London, something that made her heart ache as she wondered if her friend was still alive. Would she ever see her kind friends again? Would she ever be able to return to her home?

      Seeing that the Contessa appeared to have forgotten her, Kathryn moved towards the marble arches that opened out into the huge gardens, needing suddenly to be alone. She felt lost and alone and so unhappy

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