скачать книгу бесплатно
“No,” he said firmly. “I am trying to do nothing more than forge a friendship with her. A cordial companionship if you will. After all, we have a full two weeks before we reach Venice.”
“A lot can happen in two weeks,” Roz murmured.
“Indeed it can.” He bent his head closer to his sister’s. “If Lady Bascombe and I are on firm, affable footing, if we are indeed friends, by the time she retrieves the painting, it will be that much easier to tell her of our claim of ownership. She will be far more willing to listen to reason with a friend she trusts than with an enemy.”
“And that is your plan?”
“And an excellent one it is too.” Admittedly, it had only just occurred to him when he’d realized he wouldn’t at all mind being friends with Lady Bascombe. Anything beyond that was absurd, of course. But friends, yes, friends would be good.
“And to think, I have always thought you were so much more intelligent than I.” She set her magazine on her lap, folded her hands on top of it and met his gaze. “That is the most absurd plan I have ever heard. Although I hesitate to use the word plan as it sounds more like an ill-conceived disaster in the making.”
“Rubbish,” he said staunchly. “If she knows me, if she likes me, she’ll be much more amenable to my position. I’ve found that to be an excellent business practice. One that rarely fails.”
“Now, there’s the overly methodical and somewhat stodgy brother that I know and love.”
He ignored her. “It makes perfect sense.”
“In business perhaps. But when it comes to women, my poor, sweet, deluded brother—”
“She’ll understand.”
Roz scoffed. “More likely she’ll hate you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” His gazed strayed back to Lady Bascombe—Willie. He’d never been one for masculine names on women—he considered them inappropriate and absurd. But Willie suited Lady Bascombe, who was at once independent and uniquely feminine. A woman who would surely listen to reason when he presented his claim. Especially if they were on a friendly basis. “She’s entirely too intelligent to hate me.”
“Ah yes, that will certainly make a difference. A woman’s intelligence always comes to the forefront when she discovers a man has deceived her.”
“I’m not going to deceive her.” Confidence surged through him. It really was an excellent plan. “I am genuinely going to win her friendship.”
“This explains so much.” Roz cast him a pitying look, set aside her magazine and rose to her feet. “I believe I will make a few friends myself. I suspect I am going to need them. This is going to be a far longer trip than I imagined,” she added under her breath and moved to join the other ladies.
In many ways—his sister was right. No time like the present to begin. He stood and casually made his way to Lady Bascombe’s table. “Lady Bascombe?”
She looked up. “Yes, Mr. Montague?”
“May I join you?”
She hesitated then smiled. “Of course.”
“Are you sure?” He settled in the closest chair. “I hate to interrupt.”
“No, that’s quite all right. I am simply going over our itinerary and travel documents.” She settled back in her seat and looked at him expectantly. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No, I just...” Perhaps this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought after all. He adopted his most winning smile. “I simply thought it would help pass the time until we arrive in Dover to engage in interesting conversation with the loveliest woman here.”
“The loveliest?” Her brow rose. “As well as legendary?”
He winced. “A bit too much?”
“A bit.” She smiled. “However, like most women I am not immune to flattery. You will quite turn my head with such talk, Mr. Montague.”
He chuckled. “I do hope so.”
“And if that doesn’t work surely your belief that our conversation will be interesting will have much the same effect.”
“And yet I was most sincere.”
“Very well then.” She studied him curiously. “What interesting topic did you wish to discuss?”
“Oh, there are any number of things we could talk about, I suppose.” He thought for a moment. “Politics, literature—”
“I’m not certain I’m prepared to discuss the Divine Comedy at the moment.” She waved at the papers in front of her. “My head is entirely too filled with the assorted and sundry details of transporting this group from one point to the next to dwell on the various types of sin and indulgence portrayed in the Inferno. I daresay the details of simply moving a party of nine from one country to another is complicated enough without considering whether any missteps taken in this life will have to be paid for in the next. Surely you understand.”
“Completely.” He chuckled. “And I would not wish to discuss as substantial a topic as one of the world’s great literary efforts in the brief time we have before Dover but we could consider a different work perhaps. I recently read Mr. Haggard’s Cleopatra and I found it quite enjoyable. Have you read it?”
“Not yet but I do enjoy Mr. Haggard’s work. I quite liked She and King Solomon’s Mines.”
“Then you like adventure and dashing heroes and sultry heroines?”
“I can’t imagine anyone who doesn’t, especially with heroes like Allan Quatermain.”
“Some might think such stories are rather frivolous.”
“And yet some of the most enjoyable moments in life are completely frivolous.” She shrugged.
“As well as unexpected.”
“I believe unexpected is the very definition of adventure.”
“Then one can’t plan adventure?”
“Goodness, Mr. Montague.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “Where would be the fun in that?”
He leaned forward and gazed into her eyes. “You don’t think one can set out to seek adventure?”
“Ah, seeking adventure is a far cry from planning it. One can expect for adventure to arise or hope for it but I suspect exactly what form that adventure might take would always be unanticipated.”
He grinned. “Agreed.”
She laughed.
He settled back in his seat and studied her. “Why did a woman like you agree to host an excursion like this?”
“As you just noted, I like adventure.”
“Shepherding a group of women and their daughters on an abbreviated tour to a handful of countries scarcely strikes me as adventure.”
“Adventure, Mr. Montague, is where you find it. Who knows what might happen between here and there.” She thought for a moment. “We could encounter famous personages—someone like Mr. Haggard himself—on the boat crossing the channel.”
“Which might not be an adventure so much as an interesting moment I would say.”
“Oh, then you’re hoping for grand adventure.” Amusement underscored her words. “Well then, instead of a famous author we might encounter a...a princess. Yes, that’s good. A princess in disguise fleeing England and marriage to a horrible beast of a man, who might throw herself on your mercy and beg for you to help her. That would certainly constitute adventure.”
He laughed. “Now, I think you’ve gone a bit too far.”
“Goodness, Mr. Montague.” She sighed. “You are a difficult man to please. First, you think my suggestion of an adventure isn’t truly an adventure and then you think my next idea is entirely too much. Let me think.” She tapped her forefinger on the table thoughtfully. “You must agree, travel itself is fraught with adventure.”
He nodded. “I do.”
“Simply setting foot in a place one has never been before is exciting and exhilarating. Even when difficulties arise, there is an element of adventure. Why, any one of the trains we will be taking could break down and we could be stranded. And perhaps forced to survive by our wits alone. Which would be something of a problem but would certainly be an adventure nonetheless. One never knows what is around the next corner.”
“Indeed.” He nodded. “Still, this tour does seem a bit, oh, tame for you.”
“Ah.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “My reputation precedes me, I see. And here I was hoping legendary was the worst of it.”
“Come now, Lady Bascombe, you can’t expect me to entrust my dear sister and niece into the hands of anyone whose background I have not thoroughly checked.”
“Then you no doubt know all there is to know about me.”
“I doubt if there is anyone who knows all there is to know about you, Lady Bascombe.”
“With any luck at all, Mr. Montague.” A knowing smile played on her lips.
“But I confess I am still puzzled as to why you agreed to host this tour.”
“It’s really quite simple,” she said smoothly. “One of the founders of the Lady Travelers Society—Mrs. Persephone Fitzhew-Wellmore—is my godmother. This trip was in danger of falling apart and, as American lady travelers are seen as a lucrative prospective clientele, my godmother was quite eager to see it proceed as planned. Apparently, one thing that appeals to Americans is the presence of a fellow traveler with a title.”
“True enough.” He nodded. It really was an excellent business strategy and quite perceptive given his own business dealings with Americans. There was nothing more impressive to them than a lady or lord attached to someone’s name.
“One thing led to another and here I am.” She paused. “As fate would have it, I was planning to travel to Venice in the near future so this was not the least bit inconvenient.”
“Still, leading a tour is not the sort of thing that comes to mind for a woman like yourself.”
“Hosting a tour, Mr. Montague,” she said and frowned. “And I do wish you would stop saying that. That ‘woman like you’ nonsense. I am not a stock character in a drawing room comedy.”
“I do apologize. I didn’t mean—”
“I would do anything for my godmother. She has been a rock of support for me in recent years. More so than anyone else I can name.”
“Fair-weather friends I suspect?”
She heaved a sigh. “Mr. Montague—”
“Why Venice?”
“Why not?”
“Have you ever been to Venice?”
“Goodness, Mr. Montague. Hasn’t everyone?”
He chuckled. “You’re evading my question. And it was a remarkably innocent question. Not one I would imagine anyone would ignore.”
“I’m not ignoring it. I simply find it curious that someone who has had my background thoroughly checked would not know the answer to that. And I think it’s my turn in this fascinating conversation of ours to ask you a question.”
“My life is an open book.”
“No one’s life is an open book, Mr. Montague.” The slightest hard note edged her words. “We all have secrets. Even those closest to you have secrets. Only a fool thinks they don’t.”
“Oh.” He wasn’t quite sure what to say, given he did indeed have a secret of sorts. “Perhaps you’re right. Although I can assure you whatever secrets I harbor are minimal and barely worth the effort to keep.”
“Your sister said you’re financing her trip as a bribe.” She propped her elbow on the table, rested her chin in her hand and smiled into his eyes. “What is said bribe for?”
“My sister was just being annoying.” He drew his brows together. “Roz takes great joy in annoying me. She is five years my senior and has always delighted in doing whatever she can to set my teeth on edge.”
“So it’s not a bribe?”
“No,” he said firmly. “It’s simply in gratitude for a favor. Saying it was a bribe was her convoluted idea of a joke. And not especially amusing either.” He shook his head. “One would think as an adult with a grown daughter she would set such childish pursuits aside.”
“Some of us never quite grow up.” She smiled in a manner that struck him as a touch wistful. It did the oddest things to his stomach. “Have you?”
“Now, that is an interesting question.”
“You wished for interesting conversation, Mr. Montague. I can think of no more interesting question. Or answer. Of course, if you prefer not to answer...”
He laughed. “I’m not quite sure why you asked the question.”
“Because, Mr. Montague.” Her gaze met his. “I have known any number of charming, handsome men with their slightly wicked manners, the suggestion in the tone of their voices that indicates what they are saying goes far beyond their words and the look in their eyes not unlike a connoisseur evaluating his next morsel. I am neither fooled by them, nor am I the least bit interested.”
He stared at her. Roz was right—his concerted effort to be charming had perhaps gone further than he intended. Why, she didn’t think he was at all the serious, responsible man that he was but rather some kind of rake or rogue or scoundrel. This was not the way to earn her trust. Still, he rather liked it.
He tried and failed to keep a smile from his face. “I shall keep that in mind, Lady Bascombe.”
“Furthermore, Mr. Montague—” she met his gaze directly “—most men of that nature are not quite as obvious about it.”
“I wasn’t...” He chuckled in a wry manner. “I simply thought a woman like...a woman who has had an exciting life would be more inclined to—” he shrugged helplessly “—like a man who was more...likable than I usually am.”
Her eyes widened and she straightened. “You wanted me to like you?”
He nodded.
“Why?” Suspicion sounded in her voice.
“Because you may well be the most interesting woman I have ever met.” Even as he said the words he realized he had indeed been fascinated by her ever since he’d first read the dossier. Regardless, his goal was not to win her affections, simply her friendship. And that was a means to an end, nothing more. “And I hope to be friends.”
She sat back in her seat and stared at him. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“You must admit this confession of mine is extremely charming.”
