A Timeless Romance Anthology: European Collection (33 page)

“But we have spoken of me for much too long,” Matteo said as he signaled the server for coffee. “Tell me about your father. Your true father.”

Evangeline smiled. “He was also an artist. He taught me all he knew then turned me over to others who could instruct me in different methods. We were very close. When he died… I suppose I wanted to die with him. But I had my mother, and she needed me. I believe my art was what saved me.”

The breeze ruffled his hair, and she smiled. “You must have been an adorable child,” she said. “I can only imagine that hair on a little boy.”

He muttered something in Italian, and she laughed. “It has been the very bane of my existence,” he told her. “I was grateful when I reached the day where my mother no longer had control of its length. I do believe that if she had had her way, my brothers and I would all have been styled as girls.”

“And who could blame her? I must say, it’s very unfair when boys are gifted with curls, and girls must burn curls into their hair with hot irons.”

“But you do not,” he said.

“I suppose I’ve also been lucky.”

“Your hair is the color of deep gold. It matches your eyes.” His gaze roamed slowly over her face until she felt an unaccountable need to squirm. Wishing she were sophisticated and urbane, she forced herself to remember that they were friends. He was her good friend.

“Draw something for me,” he said and spread a linen napkin on the surface of the table. He pulled a fountain pen from his pocket and handed it to her. “I filled it with ink this morning.”

“What would you like?” she asked, taking the pen and blushing when he looked at her with brows raised.

“Again, you ask me this question, and again, I say, I should hate to shock you.”

“What would you like me to draw?” she amended with a rueful smile. What a silly friend.

He looked around the square for a moment before pointing to the clock tower. “The
campanile
.”

Evangeline shielded her eyes from the sun for a moment before turning her attention to the fabric and began drawing on it, flattening it when it wrinkled. She scowled as she worked, finally finishing the tower with a certain amount of dissatisfaction.

“It’s not the best of canvases,” she said, sitting back in her seat. Matteo looked at it, studied it, really. What was he thinking? She leaned forward again and added a portion of the Basilica, with its lavish ornamentation and design.

“What colors would you use if this were oil?” he asked.

Evangeline looked at the scene she’d sketched for a moment before examining the drawing. “This time of day, the lighting is different than it would be at sunset, of course.” She described the mixtures of differing hues, feeling the familiar shrinking of the noise around her as she contemplated bringing the scene to life on canvas, doing justice to the reality. She traced her paint-stained finger along the napkin, tapping spots on the image where certain angles would require shading effects. 

“Did you bring any of your work with you, Eva?”

“I’m sorry?”

She looked up from the drawing, and he chuckled. She smiled sheepishly as he repeated his question.

“I brought a few things,” she said with a nod. “Mostly my portfolio, which contains sketches of my original oils and some of my watercolors.” She ducked her head, wondering if he would find her habits odd. “I always carry some supplies, even if we’re going to the country estate, where I also keep a stash of paints and paper. I just…” She paused. “I am unsettled if I am too far from something I can draw on.”

“That sounds perfectly reasonable to me. Although I must say, it is a good thing I carry a pen with me— you are here without even a small purse.”

Evangeline cleared her throat. “I left my reticule in my room at the hotel. You were a few minutes early, and I decided it was better to get out the door than go back for it.”

Matteo’s face hardened. “Does Robert mistreat you?”

Evangeline looked away. “That would depend, I suppose, on the way we define the word mistreat.” She looked back at him with a forced smile. “But let us speak of other things. The exhibition will be over this evening, and you’ll return to Florence. I would like very much to enjoy your company without thinking about Robert Montgomery.”

“Do you truly believe I will leave you and simply return to Florence?”

“I am naïve, Matteo, but not stupid.” She laid her hand across his and tipped her head to the side with a genuine smile. “You are proving to be a wonderful friend, but I certainly do not expect you to inconvenience yourself for my sake. I would appreciate a referral or two, perhaps, but that is all.”

Evangeline patted his hand, thinking to put an end to the discussion, because her heart was constricting. For all of her brave words, she knew that when he left, the void would be painful.

When she moved to put her hand back in her lap, he turned his and gripped it. “Last evening,” he said in an undertone, leaning closer to her, “you were very clear in your plea for my help. You were desperate. Afraid.”

She opened her mouth, searching for something to say. “I suppose in the light of day, my situation doesn’t seem quite so dire. I feel that I am gaining a sense of your character, Matteo, and I believe you to be a very kind man. For all of your manly exterior, I suspect a kitten resides within.”

He scowled.

“What I am trying to say is that I want your friendship, not your pity. I couldn’t bear it…” Her eyes burned for a moment with tears, which popped up out of nowhere. “I couldn’t bear your pity.”

Matteo lifted her chin with his finger when she looked down at their hands, which he still held very much entwined. “Believe me,
cara mia
, I feel a great many things for you, and pity is not one of them.”

She met his gaze, her heart thumping once, hard. He was making it incredibly difficult for her to think of him as her special friend. Her heart would never recover if she fell in love with a man well versed in the art of passion but not necessarily the kind that required commitment.

Evangeline smiled and pulled back. She tucked an errant curl into one of the many pins in her hair and decided to turn the conversation to lighter things. “Now then,” she said briskly. “I have Count Bellini at my disposal to act as my tour guide for the whole day. Where shall we go? I don’t suppose you can arrange an advance showing of the exhibition?”

He looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and she knew he saw through her efforts to change the tide. His mouth finally quirked up in his familiar smile, and he signaled the server for the check.

“
Evangelina
,” he said, leaning closer to her as a soft breeze blew across the square. “You may succeed in fooling yourself, but you will not fool me.”

Chapter Five

Unfortunately, Matteo refused to give her an advance showing at the festival; Evangeline had to forgive him, however, when he spent the whole day showing her the sights and sounds of Venice. They had lunch at a small café off the beaten path, and Matteo walked her through streets and side alleys she would never have been able to navigate on her own. Each landmark he showed her was of historical significance, and the frescoes on
palazzo
walls and courtyards had her itching for her paints.

He spoke of his life and asked questions about hers. He taught her several key phrases in Italian and had the grace to not laugh at her attempts. As the day wore on, Evangeline found herself laughing more and more, recapturing the joy she had been certain would never return. He held her close to his side and entwined their fingers as they strolled along the narrow streets. On more than one occasion, he tried to sneak her into a dark alcove, but she laughingly refused his advances. She knew that if he kissed her, she would never be the same.

The sun had begun its western descent by the time Matteo returned Evangeline to the hotel. He handed her out of the gondola and followed her up the steps to the front doors, where she turned to him with a smile.

“I cannot thank you enough for the delightful day, Matteo. It was lovely in every sense of the word.”

“I do not wish for you to return to your stepfamily,” he said, brows drawn together. “Perhaps I should take you with me to my
palazzo
. It would be entirely appropriate— my whole family is in residence, and you could be my mother’s guest, officially. We can send for your trunk. You needn’t spend another moment with Robert and his daughters. You would then go to the Biennales with me rather than meeting me there.”

Evangeline shook her head and patted his arm. “I need to do this— to cut my ties with Robert myself. I shall tell him tonight that I will not be returning to London.”

“And you suppose he will merely let you go with a fond farewell?”

“I do not see how he can fail to benefit from my departure. He has my money and the estates in England. One would think he would be overjoyed to be rid of me.”

Matteo’s brows drew together. “I do not think it will be so simple,
bella
.”

“I must face him by myself.” Evangeline stood on tiptoe and kissed Matteo’s cheek. “Thank you again for such a splendid day. I’m hard pressed to remember a time more enjoyable.”

“Eva.” He gripped both of her hands in his and paused for a long moment. “If you do not arrive at the festival by the dinner hour, I will come find you.”

“Dinner hour. I shall be there. Robert and the twins plan to attend. I shall arrive with them.”

“Very well. I have some details regarding the opening of the exhibition I must arrange.”

“I will see you in a matter of two hours then.” She gave his hands a small squeeze and turned to enter the hotel.

“Not one minute late,
Evangelina
.”

She smiled and gave him a little wave before entering and closing the door behind her. Releasing an unsteady sigh, she made her way toward the staircase that led to the Montgomery suite. Her legs were wobbly, her heart had melted, and she was forced to admit that she was falling in love with the count. He listened to her. He asked for her opinions on everything from political intrigue to her habits as an artist. He cared, and that was the most dangerous part of all.

She reached the suite and entered it, surprised to find the sitting room empty. The maid, Marta, entered from one of the bedrooms and told Evangeline that the others were still out shopping and would return momentarily to prepare for the dinner and exhibition. Marta fidgeted for a moment and finally moved to leave the room.

“Is something amiss, Marta?” Evangeline asked.

The maid turned back, her face creased with worry. “A message came for Mr. Montgomery just before he left.” Reaching a hand into her apron pocket, Martha withdrew a sheet of paper, which she thrust at Evangeline. “He instructed me to retrieve the painting for him, but he didn’t tell me where he put it. The girls were in an awful hurry. I suppose in all the confusion, he forgot to tell me where it is.”

Baffled, Evangeline stared at the woman then took the paper. It was a request that Mr. Montgomery bring along the companion painting to the piece currently on display at the Biennales.

Evangeline looked up at Marta. “What painting are they speaking of, do you know?”

Marta shook her head. “I’ve looked everywhere and cannot locate any of Mr. Montgomery’s paintings. If he has it somewhere in this suite, it’s well hidden. He told me specifically that when they return from shopping, they will have but a little time to ready themselves for the exhibition. I had no idea he brought any of his other pieces with him.”

“Marta, it is not your fault that you’ve been unable to locate it. Perhaps it’s downstairs in one of the lock boxes.” Evangeline frowned. “I wonder…” She thought of her trunk and slowly made her way to Robert’s bedroom door. “Have you looked in his trunk?” she asked the maid, who was clearly beside herself at the thought of being unprepared when her employer returned.

“No,” Marta said.

“Carefully remove everything and lift the bottom panel. It may actually be a false bottom.”

A few minutes more had Marta looking for a release mechanism at the bottom of Robert’s trunk. “There,” Evangeline told her and pointed to the corner. “It lifts up in that spot.”

Marta worked with the bottom wooden layer and eventually lifted it out of the way to reveal a beautiful piece of art.

One Evangeline had created.

Chapter Six

A fury Evangeline had never known settled around her like a cloak as she paced the sitting room with her painting in hand. By the time the door finally opened to reveal the Montgomerys, Evangeline’s temper had risen several notches. As Robert looked from the painting in Evangeline’s hand to her face, comprehension dawned on his features. The look was fleeting, however, and he crossed the room in a few angry strides.

“You have gone through my personal belongings?” he said, his lips thinned, eyes flashing.

“Your personal belongings?” Evangeline spat at him. “This is
my
painting! I suppose the others you sent to the Biennales committee are my pieces as well?”

Snatching the painting roughly from her hand, he backhanded Evangeline with enough force to send her sprawling onto the floor. She stared up at him in shock before regaining her equilibrium and pushing herself upright. She stood on shaky legs and blinked to keep angry tears from falling.

To their credit, the twins did not encourage Robert, but rather stood watching the scene with mouths open. “Girls,” he said, breathing heavily and red in the face, “go into your rooms and change for dinner. We leave in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Papa,” they murmured as if on cue and stumbled to their room with a backward glance at Evangeline.

The poor darlings must be shocked
, Evangeline thought. To her knowledge, it was the first time Robert had struck anyone.

“You will not attend the festivities this evening,” Robert said, a sickening calm settling into place.

Evangeline fought the urge to cradle her hand to her face, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing it still burned like mad. Her neck hurt from snapping to the side, and even her rump was in pain from landing on the hard floor.