‘He must be a very generous man.’
‘Yes, I dare say,’ Sylvia replied. ‘He would accept no payment—but I believe Hubert and the count have some business together. The count also has vineyards and wishes to import his wines to England.’
‘Ah, yes, a mutually beneficial arrangement. I wonder—’
Mariah broke off as she heard a knock at the door and then the sound of Lord Hubert’s rather loud voice greeting their host. Drawn by curiosity as much as politeness, she walked back to the sitting room with Sylvia, glancing at the man standing with Lord Hubert. Her breath caught, for he was an extraordinarily handsome man, his eyes a greenish-blue and his hair a pale blonde, but not quite the silver it had looked in the sunlight. His nose was patrician, his forehead high, his chin not square but strong and his mouth soft and sensual. He was older than she had expected after hearing that he had only recently come into his title, being nearer thirty than twenty and of a slender build. His clothes were extravagant, very French, his cravat exquisitely tied, his coat a deep shade of violet and his breeches a paler shade of the same colour; his long fingers were crowded with expensive rings. From his accent as he spoke, she thought he must have spent much of his time in France prior to his inheriting the estate in Lombardy.
She became aware that he was staring at her in a way that made her body tingle from head to toe. This was one of the most sensual, aggressively masculine men she had ever met despite his foppery. His eyes were the eyes of a predator and she knew immediately that he found her physically attractive. The smile on his lips sent a little shiver down her spine—he was a hunter and she sensed that she had been added to the list of his prey, which she imagined to be substantial.
She must be on her guard with this man or he would gobble her up! How very exciting to be sure. Life would not be dull for a few days.
‘Lady Hubert. Madame, I am delighted to welcome you to my humble home—and your friend, the so-delightful Lady Fanshawe.’ He moved towards Mariah with the grace of a large cat on the prowl. Politeness made her offer her hand. The count took it between his own for a moment, then lifted it to his lips, depositing a kiss on the palm. It was such an intimate gesture that Mariah found herself suffused with warmth. She glanced up at him and saw the challenge in his eyes.
‘Such beauty leaves me without words,’ he declared. ‘Had I known what to expect, but even your friend did not do you justice … magnifique …’
‘You flatter me, sir,’ Mariah said, but she smiled and did not withdraw her hand too quickly. His overt flirting made her want to laugh and she was intrigued. She could not imagine that Count Paolo was in need of a fortune. This house and its contents were worth a fortune alone, to say nothing of the beautiful villa at the lakes and his vineyards. No, he was not a fortune hunter, but perhaps something more dangerous. He hunted for a different kind of prey, but he oozed sensual charm. She was certain he would seduce her if she let down her guard.
‘No, I never flatter,’ the count denied. ‘I say only what is in my mind—and you are one of the most beautiful women I have met. It is a great pleasure for me to have you at my home.’
‘I am overwhelmed, sir,’ Mariah replied. ‘Your house is astonishing—such splendour and grandeur. I do not think I have seen anything like it in a private home before.’
‘There are many such palaces in Lombardy and Rome. Venice is renowned for its beautiful palaces, of course—but for me there is nowhere quite like Paris. I lived there for many years. My father and I did not always agree and I had interests in Paris. My wife is French and I have a house there still.’
‘Your wife? Do you have children, signor?’ Maria was surprised. So he was married. Not a possible candidate for her husband, then.
She was not sure whether she was disappointed or relieved.
‘A daughter only.’ A look of disappointment or anger passed across his face. ‘I should say that I had a wife. She died in an unfortunate accident some months ago. I am a widower …’ He spread his hands. ‘It was very sad, you understand. However, we were not—compatible is, I think, the word. It was a foolish marriage undertaken when we were both too young. Our daughter will remain with her mama’s family—but I require a son, naturally. In time, when I find a lady I can both admire and love, I shall marry again.’
‘I am sorry for your loss, sir. I hope you will find happiness one day.’
‘Yes, it is very sad for the child, because she misses her mama. I have promised her that one day I shall find her a new mama and she will have brothers and sisters to play with.’ He smiled. ‘You may wonder why I chose to speak of such private matters? I feel empathy between us, madame. You have lost a doting husband, I have lost a wife. I hope we shall be good friends—perhaps more in time, who knows?’
Something in his tone made Mariah’s spine tingle. She had never known a man to speak so directly at a first meeting, though many pursued her hotly.
‘I hope we shall be friends, sir. I have heard much of you from Lady Sylvia. I shall enjoy making your acquaintance.’
The count smiled oddly. ‘I have spoken too boldly, perhaps? It is my way, madame. Forgive me, your beauty swept away all caution and I feel as if I have known you all my life—have been waiting for this moment.’
He spoke of it as if it was his destiny—hers, too, perhaps. His smile was charming and all feeling of boredom had fled. Mariah had been longing for something to happen and now it had. If she wanted an adventure, the count would be more than willing to provide it.
Mariah was aware of a mutual attraction, for she had seen his interest immediately and felt something herself—but he went too fast. His eyes seemed to unclothe her and she read his thoughts so easily that she could not meet his gaze for more than a moment. This man was charming and exciting, but she felt slightly out of her depth, as if she did not take care she would be swept away out of her control.
‘You flatter me, sir. I think you like to tease and provoke.’
‘Do not be misled, madame. I am in earnest, I assure you—but I am a terrible host,’ he said, becoming aware that they had an interested audience and letting go of her hand. ‘You must come down and meet my friends—unless you would prefer refreshments to be served here so that you may rest?’
‘Oh, no, we need just a few moments to freshen ourselves,’ Sylvia replied. ‘I am looking forward to exploring your gardens, Count Paolo. I imagine they are different to those at the villa?’
‘Yes, indeed, far more formal,’ the count replied, turning his attention to her. ‘It will be my pleasure to show both you and Lady Fanshawe after we have taken some refreshment. If you will excuse me, I must welcome other guests. Please come down and join us when you are ready.’
‘Well,’ Sylvia said as the door closed behind him, ‘how very odd. For one moment I thought—he looked as if he could devour you, Mariah.’
‘Nonsense,’ her husband said. ‘I have found the count both direct and honest in his dealings. He was making his situation clear. He is clearly looking for marriage and Mariah is beautiful enough to make most men lose their heads. The fellow was bowled over. You have made another conquest, m’dear. I almost pity the poor man.’
Sylvia arched her brows at Mariah, as if to say that a man would not understand. Such a direct approach was meant to have significance of some kind. Mariah was inclined to think the count bent on seduction. She was, after all, a widow and as such he probably thought her fair game. He couldn’t have been hinting at marriage when they had only that moment met for the first time. She had read too much into the count’s words. Lord Hubert was right. He had been struck and his tongue had run away with him; it was not the first