But Cassie had stopped listening. “He makes love to you?”
“But of course. I asked you before—just where do you think he spends his afternoons?”
“I don’t believe you. You are wicked, unprincipled.”
“Shall I describe the scar on his left shoulder? Although he has not as yet told me how he got it, it is quite recent.” Giovanna smiled, delighted with herself.
Cassie felt suddenly numb. She jumped to her feet, tipping the table and sending her glass flying into Giovanna’s lap. She picked up her skirts and fled downhill, back through the twisting maze of streets and alleyways.
From across the street, Girolamo slammed his mug of beer down on the table top, shot the contessa a venomous glance, and rushed after Cassie, Giovanna’s high, tinkling laughter in his ears. He caught Cassie near the Palazzo Bianco, where the young boy held their horses.
“Madonna. You mustn’t listen to that woman’s spite.”
Cassie raised a white face. Was Girolamo angry because he knew the earl’s visits to Genoa were to Giovanna? She felt uncertainty, then empty rage.
She thrust out her hand. “I trust, Girolamo, that you have some money to pay the boy.”
“But Scargill—”
“The money, if you please. I have no wish to remain in Genoa. Do you or do you not wish to return to the villa with me?”
Girolamo growled deep in his throat, gave the boy a few scudi, and tossed Cassie into her saddle.
Scargill’s step was jaunty when he returned to the Via San Lorenzo. The smile on his face faded abruptly when he drew to a halt and realized that Cassie and Girolamo were nowhere to be seen.
“Oh, my God,” he said aloud, his face turning suddenly ashen. He forced himself to calm. It could not be possible that the madonna could have come to any harm in the main square of the city.
He quickly drew aside the owner of the cafe and questioned him. Nothing untoward had happened. For some reason, then, the madonna had not wished to remain. Girolamo would, of course, have accompanied her back to the villa.
He raced back down the narrow streets. The boy stood by Scargill’s horse, a slight frown on his face. It seemed, the lad told him, that the girl and the man had seemed to be for a moment at odds, but then they had mounted their horses and ridden toward the western gate of the city.
During his ride back to the villa, Scargill found that as his fear for her safety diminished, his anger grew in equal proportion. When he saw Cassie’s mare nibbling lazily upon the thick grass that bordered the graveled drive, the remaining grain of fear disappeared and his hands tightened angrily upon his horse’s reins.
He found Cassie in the earl’s bedchamber, standing by the open balcony, quite safe.
“Madonna, why ever did ye leave like that without telling me?”
Cassie turned slowly to face him. Her face was white with strain.
“Why, madonna?”
“Because I no longer had any wish to remain. You see, the Contessa Giusti was kind enough to speak to me, Scargill. She told me that she has been the earl’s lover for several months now. She told me that all he feels for me now is pity.”
Scargill stared at her, mouth agape.
Cassie whirled suddenly about and struck her fisted hand against the glass door. “How could he do such a thing? How could he serve me such a turn?”
Scargill’s moment of stunned surprise was over. He stared at her, realizing that she was in a jealous rage, and smiled. If she did not care for the earl, she would now be demanding that he send her back to England.
“Ye must listen to me now, madonna. The contessa lied to ye, probably out of jealous spite. His lordship would never return to her bed, or any other lady’s for that matter. It’s only ye he cares about.”
“You’re but trying to protect him.” Her voice faltered, for she had never known Scargill to lie. Perhaps, she thought, Scargill simply did not know.
It was as if he guessed her thoughts. “Nay, madonna, I have no need to protect him. He is an honorable man, not a loose philanderer. Think, madonna. Can ye really believe him guilty of such an act?”