‘She knows her husband is dead. She received a letter from your mother just before she left for Venice.’
‘She knows? Well, why the devil didn’t she wait for me to come and fetch her back?’
‘It is weeks since she heard the news,’ the Abbess said drily.
Kilverdale scowled. ‘I was preoccupied with other business,’ he said. ‘I’m here now.’
‘So you are.’ The Abbess watched as he took a couple of glowering circuits around the room.
He stopped and drew in a deep, annoyed breath. ‘I’ll just have to follow her to Venice and fetch her back from there,’ he announced. ‘Damned troublesome females!’
He strode over to the door and left without a backward glance. The Abbess allowed herself to relax a little. The mercurial Duke could be a most unsettling visitor. Less than thirty seconds later she heard his decisive footsteps once more approaching her room.
He stepped over the threshold and looked straight at the Abbess. For a few moments his penetrating gaze focused entirely upon her with disconcerting intensity.
‘It seems this is the last time we shall meet, madam,’ he said. ‘I thank you for offering your protection and hospitality to my cousin these past seven years.’
He swept her a deep bow, his every movement filled with proud masculine grace. Then he turned once more on his heel and departed without waiting for her to respond.
Venice, May 1666
‘Our bargain is complete, illustrissimo.’ Filippo Correr sat back and smiled with satisfaction. ‘The glass will look beautiful in your new house.’
Gabriel smiled at Correr, just as pleased as the Venetian merchant with the outcome of their bargaining. The two men had first met twelve years ago when they were apprentices in Livorno. They’d both worked hard to learn their respective trades, but they’d enjoyed themselves as well. Gabriel had many happy memories of his youthful exploits in Filippo’s company—but neither man had allowed sentiment to interfere with their afternoon of hard bargaining over Gabriel’s purchase of Murano glass.
‘I am sure it will,’ he said. ‘When you next visit London you must be my guest so that you can see it in place.’
‘I will be honoured,’ said Correr. ‘Is the house finished?’
‘The construction work should be completed by the time I return home,’ said Gabriel, stretching out his legs. Now that the business part of the meeting had been concluded, he relaxed as he discussed his newest project with his old friend. ‘The interior will still need furnishing and decorating. I have some ideas in mind, but I decided not to make any final decisions until I could walk through the rooms.’
‘Ah.’ Correr nodded, and then gave a sly smile. ‘You need a wife,’ he said. ‘Women enjoy that kind of thing.’
Gabriel laughed. ‘I don’t think so,’ he replied easily. ‘If I need assistance—which, after fifteen years in the silk trade, I don’t believe I do— I’ll consult an expert.’
‘But your “expert” won’t give you sons,’ Correr gestured expansively. ‘Children are a joy—’
‘Your children are,’ said Gabriel. ‘Not all men are so blessed.’
‘If you raise them right…they are like little seedlings,’ said Correr. ‘They lift their heads to the sun and grow straight and strong.’
Gabriel grinned. Filippo’s children were the only chink in the hard-headed merchant’s armour.
‘You think I am foolish and sentimental,’ said Correr cheerfully. ‘Just wait, my friend. The first time you hold your son in your arms you will feel exactly the same.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Gabriel, cautiously conceding the point. To his knowledge, he had no children, but he was certainly fond of his various nieces and nephews.
‘But first you need a wife,’ said Correr. ‘I know a sweet and modest maid—’
Gabriel threw up a hand. ‘I don’t need you to act as my marriage broker,’ he said. ‘And I’ve no wish to marry a Venetian.’
‘This lady is Florentine,’ said Correr, unperturbed by Gabriel’s objection. ‘The gracious sister-in-law of my cousin Marco Grimani. Very quiet. Very gentle and modest. Most skilled at housekeeping.’
‘No dowry?’ Gabriel raised an eyebrow as he noted his friend’s emphasis on the lady’s personal qualities.
Correr shrugged. ‘You do not need a wealthy woman,’ he pointed out. ‘You need a wife to make you a comfortable home and give you heirs. Giulietta Orio could do that.’
‘I certainly need heirs,’ said Gabriel, ‘but, with all due respect to the gracious sister-in-law of your cousin Marco, I’ll marry an Englishwoman.’
‘I tried,’ said Correr philosophically. ‘I will tell Marco I tried. Giulietta Orio is a charming lady but, on reflection, she might be a little too timid to begin a new life in London. We will have to look elsewhere for her husband.’ He glanced out of the window.
Gabriel followed the direction of Correr’s gaze. He saw that twilight was falling on the city, cloaking the canals and buildings in mystery.
‘It’s getting late,’ said Correr. ‘Let’s go and find my wife and the children. Will you eat with us?’
‘It will be my pleasure,’ Gabriel replied, and meant it. Gabriel had always appreciated Filippo’s friendship, even though he was less appreciative of the Venetian’s matchmaking tendencies. Gabriel knew he needed a wife, especially in view of the unexpected course his life had taken. He’d been very busy since the death of his brother, but when he returned to England this time he would seek out a suitable bride. A modest, well-bred lady who would understand the duties expected of his wife. He certainly wouldn’t repeat his youthful mistake of thinking himself in love with the woman. He would treat the marriage contract as he would any other business contract, and make sure his prospective wife understood the terms of their union.
‘Oh God, I hope he’s pleased to see me!’ Rachel Beresford muttered. She stared straight ahead, showing no interest in the extraordinary city that rose around her from the waters of the lagoon.
‘Of course he will be,’ Athena said reassuringly. She took one of Rachel’s cold hands between both of hers. ‘He may be a little surprised at first, but I’m sure he will be pleased to have you with him,’ she said.
‘I don’t know how I would have managed without you,’ Rachel said jerkily. ‘I am so grateful… Oh God! I’m so nervous!’ She pressed her free hand to her mouth.
‘It won’t be long now. Soon you’ll be safely together again.’ Athena devoutly hoped Edward Beresford would be pleased to see his young wife. If he wasn’t, she might find herself in the middle of a very difficult situation, but she didn’t regret her decision to travel with Rachel.
As soon as she’d heard the young woman’s story, Athena’s compassion had been stirred. She remembered all too clearly what it was like to be alone, far from home, and unsure of receiving a warm welcome. She’d offered to accompany Rachel for the rest of the journey because she understood and sympathised with Rachel’s obvious anxiety. But Athena was honest enough to admit to herself that she’d been growing restless within the confines of the convent—especially after she’d received the news of Samuel’s death. Rachel’s need for support had given her a legitimate excuse to leave. Unlike her companion, Athena had enjoyed their trip across Europe.
They had arrived in Venice just as twilight was falling. Despite her concerns on Rachel’s behalf, Athena was enthralled by her first glimpse of the city. She turned her head left and right in an effort not to miss anything as the gondola slid through the waters of the grand canal. She was