Averill: Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 3) (29 page)

“Father ha
d an impromptu guest. A relative from England. It interfered with his attending...oh! Here, they come now.”

Averill caught a glimpse of a scantily-clad Grecian goddess, before turning in Antonio’s arms
and hiding her head. She didn’t want to see, or be seen.

“Can we leave, Antonio?” 

Averill whispered the words. Antonio pulled his head up.

“Leave
? Already? But, I have yet to dance with you. Clear the floor! All of you!” 

He drained his glass
again and tossed it against a wall. Averill didn’t hear it shattering above the swell of sound at Antonio’s words. There wasn’t a bit of space for dancing. They could barely move.

“You
are unique, Averill. So difficult…and now so worried.” 

He pulled her with him
, doing something with his chest that bumped it against hers. Averill stood stock-still. He countered that by sliding his hands down her sides, sinking nearly to the floor before he rose.

“You aren’t dancing.”  His words were
slurred.

Averill shook her head
. “I can hardly breathe, Antonio. Please take me home.”

“Home
? Oh no. We’re too young for such behavior. We’ve barely started. But, come. There’s another party we can attend. And who knows? Maybe you’ll dance with me there. Yes?”

Averill sensed someone watching
. She felt eyes on her as they left the room, Antonio threading his way through a crushing throng. He had his arms locked about her. She didn’t fight it. She’d have gotten lost without him. Trampled. Pushed aside. With every step, however, it seemed as if someone called out to Antonio, and he would stop to shout back. The sound grated, adding to the cacophony about them.

And s
omeone really was watching them, staring from the wall. She craned her head and squinted, trying to see. Trying to concentrate. Was that…
Satan
?

“Come along. Averill
. I thought you wanted to go.” 

Antonio lifted her and walked out the door, tripping on the stairs with her additional weight
. Averill longed to slap at him, but that was stupid. This was her fault. She caught herself against the railing, and held on as Antonio continued down two more steps without her.

“
Oh, Averill. You’re not angered, are you? You didn’t believe what Renee said? I swear he makes it up. I am not a womanizer...and even if I was, I would stop the moment you wed me. I swear.”

“Antonio, you’re drunk.”

He hiccoughed into his hand, and then grinned up at her.

“
Oh. Not yet, my beauty…but I am working on it. Come now. Take my hand. I’ll take care of you. Didn’t I promise?”

He held
out his hand. She finally took it. He kept his fingers about hers for the entire trip. She didn’t know what else to do. It didn’t feel lover-like or sensual. He was looking at her with eyes that resembled Dachon’s spaniels. Averill had no experience with a besotted man.

“I love you, Averill, I do
. At least…I think I do.”

“You’re too young for me, Antonio.”

“Too...young?” 

“And immature.”

His eyes wavered for a moment and then they narrowed. “Not too young to claim an unborn child, though. How could you turn down any suit with such a problem, Averill? How?”

Averill
sucked in a breath and looked away. It shouldn’t matter that Antonio had discovered her secret. She couldn’t keep it hidden forever. Aside from which, his proposal hadn’t been earnest. She knew that now. It appeared to be his ploy to get women. But it did mean one thing. Their time together was over. Her time in Venice was over. All she had to do was survive the evening, get her funds from his bank, and disappear.

Strange, how that made everything feel instantly cold
. Bereft. Lonely. If he wasn’t inebriated he’d have felt her tremble.

“I think it best if you take me home, Antonio,” she
finally said.

He regarded her for long moments, looking surprisingly sober
. And then he grinned, grabbed her into a hug, and started laughing, tipping the boat slightly with how he rocked.  

CHAPTER THIRTY

The boat docked
at another mansion, so brightly lit, it illuminated far into the waterway. It was also alive with noise. Music. Voices. Song. Thumping sounds from drums. Or feet. Antonio stood and shouted while the boat rocked wildly. Averill wasn’t the only one concerned. The gondolier was leaning heavily on his pole to keep them steady.

“
Announce me, someone! The
Marchese
Antonio Dilan-Fiorri has arrived! You may now begin your fest!”

He pulled Averill with him
into yet another mansion filled with people. This party was different, though. She realized it as she tried to catch up with Antonio. Less clothing was distributed among the crowd. Averill gasped when she saw a woman dressed as a dancing girl from Egypt. It was almost like the disguise Harvey had procured for her.

Antonio was handed another bottle of wine
. Averill watched as he only sipped at it before passing it on.

“My lady
Frontiac,” he called out next. “How wonderful to see you again!” 

His words were unrecognizable for the most part, but Averill wasn’t
truly listening. Antonio was kneeling before a heavy-set woman wearing so much face paint it looked like she might crack.

“Antonio, you young guttersnipe
. How dare you come to my party...”

Averill’s eyes widened as she listened
. She expected to be tossed out, and wondered if the boatman would help her.

“...and bring a woman with you?”  She pointed at Averill
. “Don’t I have women beautiful enough for you? Do you have to import one?”

Then the woman laughed and Antonio rose to his feet
.

“
But you eclipse them all, fairest maid.”  Antonio removed his hat and stumbled into a bow as he flattered the painted woman. “Now. Tell me where your wine is.”

No
. He truly didn’t intend to drink more, did he? He was barely walking now. And how was she to handle him if he collapsed? Then she felt eyes on her again.

“Antonio,” she
went on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “Someone’s following us.”

“What’s that again?” he shouted.

Averill turned away in disgust.
Men! And drink! And lust!

Antonio wasn’t going to be any help
. She surreptitiously scanned the crowd. And that’s when she saw the man who’d followed them. It could be no other. He was lounging against a far wall, his height putting him above the crowd. He didn’t look away as she caught sight of him. She hadn’t been mistaken. He was dressed as the devil! He looked enormous, even bigger than Tenny. He had wicked-looking horns and sharp points on his mask. Why would he follow them from one party to the next? It made no sense. She had to be mistaken.

“
You really want to leave again? So…soon?” 

Antonio slurred the words
. Averill shook her head slightly. He misread it. He was still as handsome, probably just as sensual, but he didn’t affect her in the least.

“
Very well. We’ll leave. I think we should walk now. I feel the need for fresh...”  He hiccoughed again, “…air. How about it, my lovely?”

Averill let him put an arm about her shoulders
. If she didn’t, she suspected he’d fall.

The streets were
a relief from the rooms they’d visited, but revelers were about, mostly in groups. Averill stepped closer to Antonio as each rowdy bunch passed by them. There was music ahead, and she headed toward the sound. One duo stopped and began dancing, forcing Averill and Antonio to skirt them. Averill glanced back. As she did, a shadow shifted. She tried to pierce the gloom and see more clearly. Nothing. She was seeing things. Imagining worse.  

“Antonio,
please? Can we go home now?”

“Not until we have danced, lovely Averill
. It’s the only way I can hold you close. You won’t allow it otherwise.” 

He swayed, tripping on her hem
. She had no choice but to stay with him. And fret. She could scream, but no one would care. Other screams filled the air, but they ended in laughter. Antonio tried to hold her close. His costume made an effective buffer. Averill bumped against his padding more than once as he twirled.

“Please,” she said
. “Take me home, I beg you.”

“Beg me for something I want
. Like your sweet body pressed to mine. I want that. I’ve dreamt it... Say you love me, Averill. Please?”

“Even if I said it, you wouldn’t remember
. You’re drunk.”

“
Really? How can you tell?”

The crowd thinned
. Antonio steered them into a street that was deserted except for a few lanterns. Averill pushed angrily away from him. She didn’t care if he fell. She didn’t know which way the canal was, or how to find Lady Brighten’s house. Antonio wasn’t going to be able to see her safely home. She’d have to get there herself. There was no one to help her.

Again.

Still.

And then she saw
it. There was no mistaking the shape of horns as the shadow loomed about them. The man dressed as Satan
was
following them.

“Antonio!”  She pulled him close by grabbing on his lapels.

“What is it?” 

He grinned down at her and then belched
. Antonio was no help. She wondered what the devil-man wanted. Antonio’s purse? She eyed her escort critically. His costume reeked of wealth and privilege. As did hers. She mustn’t blame Antonio. Any thief would find them an easy target.

She had to get them back into a party
. Or a group of street revelers. Anywhere there was a crowd.

“Antonio
? We need to go!”

“Where?”

“Anywhere! Dachon’s party. Carlos.”

“You want
…to go back…now?”  He lurched sideways.

“Yes
. Tell me how to get there.”

Two men entered the street from the
far end. Averill eyed them warily before grabbing Antonio’s arm. She slid beneath it, supporting him again as she turned them around and started walking back the way they’d come. The devil-man was the lesser evil now. These men were real. She’d seen their kind many times. She knew exactly what they wanted.

Antonio
tripped and fell to his knees. He was chuckling as she helped him regain his feet. And then he was singing some horrid ditty in a non-musical voice. All he wanted to do was twirl. Dance. Averill managed to move him along the street, while he took lurching steps and complained. She couldn’t hear music anymore. All she could hear was the deafening sound of her own pulse.

“You have…no feet…for dancing, Aver—
”

Antonio didn’t finish
. The devil-man loomed right in front of them, materializing from the blackness. She didn’t even have time to scream. He held a rapier in one hand. The other shoved them to the side. Averill stumbled. It was Antonio taking her with him as he fell, landing with a thud. He rolled onto his back, made some disjointed senseless remark, and then went silent. Averill grabbed him by the shoulders, and yanked, scooting backwards as she dragged Antonio with her.

Oh
…why had she come? This was all her fault! If it wasn’t for her, Antonio would be safe. He’d be at one of the parties. Drinking. Dancing. He wouldn’t be getting knifed in an alley somewhere. Her back met cold stone and she pulled Antonio closer. And then she shut her eyes and prayed.

There were sounds of a scuffle
. An oath. A grunt. And then footsteps. Averill peeked and saw the two would-be thieves running away. The devil-man wasn’t killing anyone. He’d saved them! She watched as he went to a knee before them.

“You should choose braver lovers.” 

Averill didn’t know what to say. Antonio didn’t appear conscious. The devil-man didn’t act like he needed an answer. He pulled Antonio from her nerveless grip and hoisted him to a shoulder. Then he stood, silently looking down at her. Averill gained her feet, by pushing against the wall at her back. She didn’t think her legs would work at first. He waited until she’d finished before speaking again.

“Come along
, then. We’ll leave him at
Madame
Frontiac’s salon.”

He was almost at the end of the street before she lifted her hem and
hurried to catch up. He didn’t act like he cared. He was still ignoring her when he walked right into the painted-faced lady’s house. Amid much screeching and laughter, he walked through the throngs of scantily-clad ladies and up the stairs. Averill watched as he rolled Antonio off his shoulder and onto a bed in one of the lushly-furnished rooms.

“See that he makes it back to his grandmother
.” He spoke to the painted woman and pressed something into her hand.

“
Oh. It won’t be the first time,” she replied.

He didn’t look at Averill
before he walked out, taking the stairs easily. She hesitated before chasing after him. She didn’t know what else to do. He might even know the location of Lady Brighten’s house. Besides, she told herself, anything was better than waiting for Antonio to wake up in that house.

She found the man waiting outside the mansion,
leaning against a post, his black-booted legs crossed as he contemplated the night. She quickly crossed the street to him. He truly was enormous. His shoulders looked big enough to hoist a camel.

“Sir
? She cleared her throat. “I...I was wondering? Could you see me home?” 

Her
voice faded to a whisper as he ignored her, turning instead to look down the street, away from her.

“El Diablo
? Por favor?”

He
turned back to her. She couldn’t see the look on his face because his mask shadowed everything but his chin.

“Speak English,” he told her.

“I...I live with the Lady Brighten. Perhaps you know her house?”

“I do.”

She sighed with relief. “Oh, good. Will you...take me there?”

“No.”

Her eyes widened.

“Take off your mask.”

The words were whispered, but held all kinds of threat. She began to back toward Madame Frontiac’s home.

“I...I
have made a mistake.” 

She turned to run
, but he was too quick. A moment later she was in his arms, twisted to face him. She gathered breath to scream just before his lips met hers. She struggled wildly, kicking and grunting with her effort. He was taking what belonged to only one man. She’d never give it willingly. Even the baby kicked at him. And he felt it.

Instantly his head came up
.

“A
…child? You’re expecting a baby, and you were dancing? For God’s sake, Averill, have you no sense?”

It can’t be!

“T-T-Tenny?” 

Averill was
shaking so badly that her teeth chattered. It made his name stutter. It also loosened his hold so she was again on her own feet. And he let her go. She backed a step. Another.  

“
You want to tell me about your man-friend?” 

His whisper
sounded anger-filled. She couldn’t tell. She still couldn’t see him.

“
Man-friend? I have no—oh. You mean Antonio? He’s not my man-friend.”

“Then what is he?” 

He leaned against the gate again and folded his arms, feigning disinterest. Averill suspected it for a pose. He seemed too alert, as if very interested in her answer.

He’s
a stupid young man filled with an overblown sense of his attractions! He’s the man who’s been proposing to me until I can’t think straight, and I find out it’s just the phrase he uses. He’s a thief of hearts, and a braggart…and a liar!

She longed to shout it
, but held her tongue. Her gaze dropped to his boot tops. What was she doing? Love had no meaning in the world he lived in. She’d been through a lot this night, but reality was an ugly companion. Nothing was really changed. And his offer wasn’t so different from Antonio’s.

She’d just escaped a taste of that world
. She didn’t need a repeat.

“I’m waiting, Averill.”

He was pressuring her, and she didn’t like his tone. She couldn’t think. Her head hurt. She raised her hands to her temples to hold the throbbing at bay.

“You’re too quiet
. That usually means you’re thinking. I don’t want a story. I want the truth.”

The mask was too tight
. As was her headdress. She worked at the pins holding the mantilla in place until it came loose.

“And I want it sometime tonight.”

“So...much has…happened, Captain.”  She pulled the headdress off, wrapped the lace around the starched headpiece and hugged it to her.

“Is the child mine?”