be the Rossini girl then. That his search was over so abruptly caused him a moment of disorientation, as though he’d run to the brink of a cliff and now found himself teetering on its edge.
Satyr weren’t especially talented at probing the minds of others, but he plied what skills he possessed, hoping to learn what he could of her.
Her thoughts told him she found him attractive, but her expression had already informed him of that. He felt frustration when he couldn’t read further evidence from her that she was Faerie, until he realized her own lack of awareness of her heritage would naturally render her thoughts blank of it.
She seemed a sweet, biddable girl, and she was undeniably beautiful. If his instincts were right, this one would prove a good choice.
That it was her mother King Feydon had cuckolded surprised him. A discerning libertine, Feydon typically chose only the most beguiling of mates. But perhaps Signora Rossini had been more pleasing to the eye in her youth.
Bianca shifted uncomfortably, and he realized his silent study had grown too intense. He bowed. “It is indeed a pleasure, Signorina Rossini.”
“Signore,” she said, curtseying. Her voice was an awed whisper, brimming with wonder and a trace of fear that he had deigned to mark her with his attention.
“May I inquire what sort of fortune you were given that brought such a charming blush to your cheek?” he asked, hoping to set her at ease.
“I’m to meet a handsome dark-haired gentleman,” she blurted.
Her bevy of friends darted glances at him, giggling.
Bianca blanched when she realized what she’d revealed and to whom.
“And when you meet this gentleman, do you plan to share a dance with him?” Nick inquired with unusual care. She was one of those sweet-tempered creatures who inspired gentleness in those around her.
“Oh,” she said, her brow knitting. “All of my dances are spoken for.”
“Couldn’t you spare just one for Lord Satyr?” her brother encouraged, obviously beginning to realize what his sudden interest in his sister might mean to the family’s fortunes.
Nick was certain the Rossini clan would easily accept him, as would their daughter. She had no doubt been trained well in her duty and would grace his home and bed and give him no trouble. Their marriage would cause scarcely a ripple in the comfortable pattern of his life.
Only the formalities were left to undertake. He would speak to his attorney in Rome tomorrow and claim her as his as soon as a wedding could be arranged.
“But that wouldn’t be proper,” she said.
Nick was taken aback for a moment until he determined she was referring to the question of allowing him a dance. “You’re right, of course. How unfortunate for your dark, handsome gentleman and all others who have missed their chance for a turn on the lawn with you tonight.”
“Um, yes,” she said. She blinked, appearing mesmerized by his smile.
Really, this was too easy, he thought. While pleased at her lack of artifice, he couldn’t help but wonder if the lure of her simplicity might dull in time. It didn’t matter. Husbands of his rank spent little time in their wives’ company.
And every Faerie had hidden depths. He wondered what magic her demure manner concealed.
The drape parted as the tent emptied its latest client.
“Going to try it?” asked one of the youths as the mystic’s most recent customer was expelled. He sounded hopeful, no doubt assuming the ladies wouldn’t divert their attention from Nick until he left them.
Nick offered an arm to Bianca. “Since I’m to be denied a dance, will you accompany me inside to have my fortune told?”
Bianca’s startled eyes darted to her brother.
“With your brother’s permission,” Nick added.
“Go ahead, Bianca,” said her brother. “The mystic is chaperone enough, and I’ll be right outside.”
“But I’ve already had my fortune told,” she reminded them.
“I haven’t, however,” said Nick. “And I admit I’m daunted by the notion of approaching a true mystic. You have obviously navigated these waters and survived. I beseech you to come along with me that you might shore up my quaking will.”
Bianca still hesitated. Probably wondering if Mama would approve, he thought.
He employed his considerable powers of persuasion. “Your eyes tell me you possess a generous spirit. Surely you can find it in the kindness of your heart to make a decision in my favor.”
“Why, all right. Of course I’ll accompany you,” she agreed. Then she leaned closer to offer, “But the mystic isn’t terribly frightening, really.”
With a nod to her brother, Nick held the drape aside and bade Signorina Rossini enter before him.
3
Within the tent, Jane Cova listened and rolled her eyes at the gentleman’s blandishments. Was his lady really wooed by such practiced flattery? She’d seemed to hang on his every word.
For a very different reason, Jane had done so as well. One could learn a great deal about a potential client by eavesdropping on what they said prior to entering the tent. With enough information, an entire fortune could be fabricated for someone, as she had cause to know. Not that her talent was all subterfuge.
The cobweb drape at the tent’s entrance fluttered. She prepared herself to greet the new arrivals, adjusting her head covering to partially conceal her youthful features. A few strands of her moon-colored hair escaped the wrap, but she didn’t bother to tuck them away. They would be mistaken for gray in dim light.
The betraying softness of her hands was carefully hidden with black lace gloves that left only her fingers bare. She rounded her shoulders to foster the perception she was wizened beyond her years. The crude corncob pipe she slid between her lips was unlit. It, too, was designed to age her and disguise her voice. It was effective, but holding the stem for any length of time was painful. Her lips were already bruised.
A male hand parted the drape, allowing some of the gloom inside the tent to escape. At the sight of those strong fingers, an odd awareness prickled over her. Uncertainty quickened her pulse. Inexplicably, her every intuition and instinct urged her to flee.
She flattened her palms on the table and half stood and then hesitated. Rarely did she gainsay such feelings. Still, she hadn’t yet earned the coin she’d hoped for today. She’d arrived late to the event and found the tents occupied with other vendors. Only when the prior inhabitant of this tent had recently vacated had she entered and begun to ply her trade.
The assemblage was wealthy and the evening young. What to do?
Before she could decide, her new customers came inside. Jane recognized the pretty signorina as an earlier visitor. Her color had heightened under her suitor’s attentions. But she was harmless enough.
However,
