DEVIL’S EMBRACE by Catherine Coulter

When Signora Piasi gave her attention to her plate, Cassie turned to Caesare, who was regarding her, a strange expression in his eyes.

“Whatever is the matter?” she asked him. “Have I gravy on my chin or wine spots on my gown?”

His expression changed instantly. He cocked his head at her and said in an amused voice, “You have nothing untoward on your person, Cassandra. I have observed that you are quite the success this evening.”

Cassie said, “I think it is all because of my ghastly accent. People find me an amusing oddity.”

“I think not,” he said.

Caesare’s conversation floated over Cassie’s head some minutes later as she gazed around the table. Save for the fact that everyone spoke Italian, she could see little differences between the manners of Genoese aristocracy and the English. Perhaps laughter was freer, she quickly amended to herself, and certainly their guests very much needed their hands to emphasize their conversation. Her eyes stopped at the Contessa Giovanna Giusti, seated toward the middle of the table, Signore Montalto at her side. She was undeniably alluring, and a center of gaiety. Cassie had only spoken a few words to the beautiful contessa, for she was the last guest to arrive. The contessa had looked at her closely, and turned abruptly away.

“Cassandra, you have not heard a word I’ve said.”

“Do forgive me, Caesare. Much here is new to me.”

He gave her a look of mock reproof. “And here I was telling you about Genoese velvet, and how some Genoese ladies adore its quality to such a degree that their undergarments are also of velvet.”

“But I have never heard of such a thing.”

Some minutes later, at a signal from the earl, Cassie rose with him and led their guests back to the drawing room to enjoy more wine and cakes. After some moments, the earl drew her aside. “I hope you do not mind sharing a short business meeting with me, cara. Signore Montalto is awaiting me in the library.”

Cassie looked up at him, puzzled. “I hardly think that appropriate, my lord. Surely Signore Montalto would not expect you to bring me to your meeting.”

“I see you are too hidebound by societal rules, cara. Did I not promise not to leave you alone this evening?”

“I suppose so, my lord,” she said doubtfully.

“A bit more enthusiasm, if you please,” he said, and opened the thick double doors to the library. He stepped back to allow Cassie to precede him.

Signore Montalto looked up from his chair, clearly startled. He looked to the earl, expecting him to peremptorily dismiss the girl. But the earl appeared unperturbed at Signore Montalto’s stiff countenance, and planted a guileless smile on his face.

“You are enjoying the party, I trust, Marcello,” he said easily. “You, of course, have made the acquaintance of Signorina Brougham.”

Signore Montalto rose ponderously from his chair and offered Cassie a stiff bow.

“You will share a glass of sherry with us, signore?” The earl added smoothly, an imp of mischief compelling him, “Marcello is here, Cassandra, to discuss a rather thorny problem with me. Perhaps you would not mind giving us your opinion.” Much to his delight, a slight smile indented the corners of her mouth, and she inclined her head in graceful assent.

“I would be delighted, my lord, to provide you whatever assistance I can.”

She graciously accepted a chair held for her by the flustered Marcello, settled her heavy skirts about her, and sipped the sherry the earl offered her.

The earl said, “It involves a Dutch shipping group trading with the southern colonies in America, which has recently suffered rather large financial losses. The losses are, unfortunately, much my concern, since I provided much of the capital. A Dutch representative has brought Marcello a proposal that he believes will pay us handsomely. You may tell la signorina, Marcello.”

Cassie turned her eyes from the earl’s sardonic expression and fastened them on Signore Montalto’s heavy jowled face. He seemed to struggle with himself to speak, and Cassie barely managed to suppress a grin of amusement.

“As you know, signorina,” Signore Montalto began ponderously, imagining full well that she knew nothing at all, “England’s southern colonies are exporting more cotton and tobacco by the year. Even their timber is gaining in importance as the English denude their own forests.”

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