Once Upon a Scandal (20 page)

Remington playfully rocked Victoria from side to side with his own body. “Yes,” he drawled. “This is Victoria. The new Lady Remington. She and I were married back in London.”

A high-pitched screech escaped Cornelia as she clapped her hands and jumped up and down, causing all of her curls to bounce up and down along with her. “Oh, this is…marvelous! Absolutely marvelous! Oh, Jonathan. Why did you not write and tell us? You really should have…” She froze and clasped her robe together at the base of her exposed throat. “Fie. I am not even dressed to meet her.”

Remington released Victoria and started pulling her back toward the door. “I suppose we should leave. Come along, Victoria. We will find ourselves a hotel.”

Victoria giggled and scampered after him in an effort to play along. This reminded her of the Jonathan she had first met.

“Jonathan!” Cornelia exclaimed, hurrying toward them. “That is not in the least bit amusing. I will not have you and your new wife staying in a hotel. You will stay here with me and Giovanni. Oddio. You could not have arrived at a more harried time. Giovanni’s birthday is next week and though the brute resisted to the end, I’m hosting a masked ball in his honor. We will have to find you both something to wear and visit a mascarero at once. Only I—”

Cornelia paused. She spread her arms out toward Victoria and smiled, her cheeks rounding. “Enough with my incessant talk. I wish for your affection, sister dearest. I deserve it after having endured years of Jonathan’s rantings.”

Victoria hurried forward, oddly feeling as if she already knew this Cornelia. She pressed the woman’s lily-scented softness to herself and murmured against her shoulder, “Your brother has told me so much about you.”

“Oh, has he now?” Cornelia pulled away and searched her face with bright brown eyes and flicked Victoria’s hair with an exploratory finger. “She really is beautiful, Jonathan. Corpo di baco. I do believe she will overturn every gondola in Venice.”

Victoria let out a nervous laugh.

Cornelia swept out a hand and rattled it. “Come. Whilst we wait for my husband to join us, I will show you my redecorated ballroom, which I intend to debut quite soon. Giovanni thinks it’s exceedingly pompous, but then, he has no taste whatsoever.”

Cornelia grabbed her hand and hurried them both past Remington and through the open doors of the archway on their right. Cornelia released her and gestured toward the expanse of the room with a great sigh. “What do you think? Is it fashionable enough?”

Victoria glanced around the large rectangular room, noting how on one side its large windows faced the canal and at the far, far end they faced a small cobbled courtyard. Why, the room was the expanse of the entire house!

Her eyes widened as she slowly turned to get a better view. The room was simply furnished with an array of upholstered chairs and French clocks. The impressive length of the sweeping walls was painted a soft, pale green and bore dozens of oversize gilded mirrors and sconces that not only expanded the room, but allowed the light from the outside windows to brighten the space all the more.

“’Tis beautiful,” Victoria breathed. “Stunning. Especially with the views of the canal and the courtyard.”

Cornelia waved her hand about. “Yes, I think so, too.” She sighed heavily. “I must see what is taking Giovanni so long. The poor man would be late for his own funeral.” She spun around and hurried out of the ballroom, her robe floating around her as her slippers shuffled against the marble. Silence hummed.

Victoria wistfully glanced around the ballroom again, wondering what it would be like to own something like it. Something she could call her own and use to enliven not only her life but the lives of others with dance and music. She headed back toward the entryway.

Remington leaned against the open archway, setting his hands behind his back. He eyed the ballroom and then her as she approached. “What do you think of her?”

“She is everything I expected and more.” Victoria settled herself against the archway opposite him, smiled and arranged her skirts.

His blue eyes met hers across the short expanse between them. After a moment, he asked in a low tone, “And what do you think of Venice?”

It was a question that she knew asked far more than the obvious. He was asking her if she could see herself staying. She drew in a shaky breath. “It is truly enchanting.”

“We can make it our home. Raise our children here.”

Children.

Silence hung between them.

“Remington!” a deep sweeping voice boasted from the top of the stairs. “Congratulazioni! You are now a man. A real man.”

Startled, Victoria pushed away from the archway and turned toward the staircase. A distinguished-looking gentleman with thick, silver-streaked black hair descended the stairs. A red silk cravat hung loosely around his neck. And his shirt was scandalously open, exposing the intimate curve of his throat and the dark hairs of his chest. Fortunately, everything else, including his gray trousers, was properly affixed.

Remington touched a hand to Victoria’s waist. “Victoria, this is Baron—”

“No, no, no. We are famiglia. I insist she call me Giovanni.” The man held up a hand and paused at the bottom of the staircase. He smiled and eyed Victoria, then leaned against the iron banister, setting his collar up. “I hope you and Remington do not have any plans. ’Tis obvious mia Cornelia intends to take over your entire schedule whether it pleases you or not. She has already added you and Remington to the guest list for the party in honor of my being very old.” He wrapped his cravat around his collar and knotted it, the sapphire ring on his finger winking at her with each quick movement.

Victoria smiled, fascinated by his unconventional approach to their conversation while he dressed in front of her. He was so worldly and charming. He seemed as if nothing could disrupt his good mood. “I am so pleased she did. I have never attended a masked ball before.”

“Never?” Giovanni smoothed down the front of his cravat, crossed his arms over his chest and tsked. “If only Austria would reinstate Carnival. It would put our pathetic attempts to shame.”

“There is no more Carnival? Since when?”

Giovanni’s eyes widened as he huffed out, “Since the Earl of Hell known as Napoleon swept through Venezia, is when.” He rattled a hand about. “Merda! Do the British not inform their people of anything?”

“Giovanni!” Cornelia scolded from atop the staircase. “We all know what you think of Napoleon, but please try to refrain from turning into him yourself. Cursing at our new sister-in-law? Whatever are you thinking?”

Giovanni sheepishly eyed Victoria. “You must forgive this wild brute. I am still being tamed.”

Victoria smiled. “There is no need to apologize.”

Cornelia regally descended the stairs and alighted beside them. “Later this week, you must grant me an entire day with Victoria in the city. There is so much I wish to show her. Things I know Jonathan will not, as they involve shopping. You and Jonathan can tend to the children that day if the governess finds herself overwhelmed.”

Giovanni snorted and wagged a finger at Cornelia. “No, no, no. Remington and Giovanni will take to the city, whilst you will both tend to our beautiful bambinos. That is how it is done. You British have it all wrong, as always. Must I forever teach you everything?”

Cornelia snorted in turn and pushed his hand away. “I do beg your pardon, Napoleon, but you and Jonathan have already seen Venezia. I wish to show her the city before Jonathan sweeps her out into the plains and I never see them again.”

Giovanni dropped his hand to his side and huffed out a breath. “Whatever my Cornelia wants, is what my Cornelia gets.”

Cornelia leaned in and nuzzled his cheek with the tip of her nose. “Do not ever forget it.”

Giovanni grunted.

They really were adorable.

Victoria leaned toward them, entranced by the way they interacted with each other. “I understand you two have three children? When will I meet them?”

“You will have to meet them right now.” Cornelia reached out, grasped her arm and guided her around Giovanni. “And yes. We have three. Jonathan, Marta and Aniela. Come, come. They are all in the nursery and ought to be up by now.”

Cornelia hurried them up the stairs, giving Victoria only a moment to glance back down toward Remington.

Remington grinned, then cupped the side of his mouth and yelled, “I forgot to mention that she will exhaust you to no end and will never allow you to say no to anything.”

Victoria giggled. She stumbled on the last step as Cornelia tugged her onward. Gathering her skirts from around her feet in an effort to keep up, Victoria darted down the corridor after Cornelia. She had almost forgotten how truly wonderful it was to have a family. A real family of her own. It was something she hadn’t been a part of in a very long, long time.

A lady’s reputation will only fall apart if she lets it fall apart. She must therefore guard her name and her virtue with her very life, because sometimes abiding by all the rules is not enough. Sometimes, a lady will find there are unscrupulous men who seek to not only break the rules, but the very women who are trying to uphold them.
—
How To Avoid a Scandal, Author Unknown

Five days later
Venice, early afternoon

CORNELIA’S THREE adorable children with their pudgy faces, playful dark eyes, rosy cheeks and curling hair ranging from hues of chestnut to black haunted Victoria for days. Seeing Remington fawn over his nieces and nephew with words, silly faces and laughter made her ache for children in a way she had never thought possible.

Of course, to entertain such a thought would mean staying with Remington forever. Though she and Remington had shared a bed these past five nights, the only thing they had shared in that bed was a flutter of endless words that eventually exhausted them both.

As each day passed, she knew it was inevitable. Them. This. With each day, the excitement and the beauty that possessed everything and everyone around her made her realize life really could be perfect. One simply had to fight to make it perfect. And she had decided that come tonight, when she settled into bed alongside Remington, she would astound him by submitting to him completely. Her heart. Everything.

“The next shop is by far the most divine,” Cornelia insisted, patting Victoria’s knee with a gloved hand, stirring Victoria from her daze. “London has nothing like it.”

Victoria grinned. She couldn’t wait to see what Cornelia had planned. They had already spent most of the day floating about from stoop to stoop throughout Venice, stopping their gondolier whenever something was of interest, and exploring endless shops for glass beads, gloves, ribbon-and-lace bonnets, slippers and flowers. There really wasn’t much room left in the gondola to hold another parcel.

Their gondola came to a bobbing halt beside a narrow stoop that only held one other waiting gondola. A black door with a brass dolphin knocker loomed before them. A long row of large glass-paned windows was draped with lush, red velvet that had various colored porcelain masks attached for display.

“Come.” Cornelia gathered her pale pink equalette skirts and effortlessly hopped out of the gondola’s cabin.

Getting in and out of a gondola was something Victoria had yet to master. She gathered her skirts and tried to step out elegantly, only to stumble, as always. It was getting to be quite amusing.

They entered the dim quarters of an enormous shop that hummed in silence and appeared to stretch for miles. A heavy, musty scent clung to the warm air. Large yellow glass lanterns hung sparsely from the vast timbered ceiling, softly illuminating dozens and dozens of alternating aisles in a way the plate-glass windows facing the canal could not. Tall wooden shelves set side by side cluttered every wall in the vast space, creating a fortress-like maze. And astonishingly, every single shelf displayed mask after mask, all of different expressions, sizes and colors. She never realized so many masks could actually exist.

Cornelia swept a hand toward the countless narrow aisles the shelves created. “When Carnival was banned, the mascareros were forced to gather their wares. Hence all these masks. Though masked balls are still quite popular, sadly, this shop is always empty. Now I want you to choose masks for yourself and Jonathan. My brother never willingly accepts anything from Giovanni and me, but I’ll bully him if he doesn’t accept a few wedding presents.”

Victoria breathed out an elated sigh and scanned the never-ending parade of shelves and masks. “There must be thousands of masks here. How do I choose?”

Cornelia leaned toward her and said in a low, conspiratorial tone, “The purpose of a mask is not to hide your identity, but to flaunt it. Choose whichever mask you believe best reflects you. Though choose wisely. Others will judge you based upon the façade you wear.”

Cornelia nudged her, then winked. “Take your time. We have at least two hours. I intend to look around myself. There are a few masks in the back I’ve been meaning to buy for myself and Giovanni, though I have yet to decide on which. Find me when you get bored. And if you cannot find me—which I assure you may happen—feel free to bellow across the aisles a few times and make your way toward the very far back. Venetians do it all the time and no one will think less of you. Now have at it.”

Cornelia offered her a pert wave, then disappeared with a rustle of skirts down one of the aisles, veering off to the right and into the labyrinth of shelves and masks.

Victoria smiled and drifted to her left, down toward the farthest aisle against the farthest wall. Seeing as they had time, she would go through each and every single shelf and aisle. It would probably take at least two hours…if not three or four.

She scanned the first set of large shelves. Frozen porcelain faces laughed, cried, smirked and smiled. Though incredibly, none of the masks laughed or cried or smirked or smiled in the same manner. There were masks resembling the moon, the sun, flowers, animals. It was endless.

She edged farther down the long aisle against the wall, more and more masks taunting her as she moved deeper into the shop. She veered down another aisle, feeling as though she were an ant crawling through a forest. Eventually she paused and eyed a particular mask that seemed out of place amongst all the pompous, bright feathers and porcelain.

It was an expressionless, all-black velvet oval mask. Smooth, with a sharp nose and no mouth. Only eyeholes. She didn’t know why it appealed to her so much—perhaps because it was so simple in comparison to everything around her and reminded her of how she often felt around others. Somber and out of place.

Victoria reached toward the shelf and carefully fished the mask out from the clutter. She tilted her head, the bow of her bonnet digging into her chin, and fingered it. It was soft, yet not by any means fragile. The black velvet was attached to leather. It was very elegant and very simple, yet…how did it affix to one’s face? There was no sash or even a ribbon. She drew her brows together, and turned it over, noting a small wooden piece attached to its back.

There was a soft creak from behind her and a deep voice announced, “Eccellentissimi prima scelta.”

Her heart jumped. She spun toward an older, broad-shouldered man looming in the aisle behind her. Attractive amber eyes pierced the distance between them. His alabaster, seam-pinched waistcoat and snowy-white shirt, which boasted a knotted silver-lace cravat, were all scandalously flaunted by the absence of any coat. Striped gray trousers hugged his solid thighs, the ends of them pulled against foot straps that buttoned beneath polished, black leather boots. His unconventional appearance hinted that he was the keeper of the shop.

He smiled with vibrant, boyish charm, raking away long strands of graying, sun-tinted hair from his forehead with a bare hand. He playfully set a red and gold feathered crow mask against his own face with his other hand.

After peering at her through the large round holes for a moment, he drew it away and carefully set it onto the shelf beside him. His smile faded as he casually slid a heated gaze down toward her breasts and back up to her face again, making no attempt to hide his admiration for her and her newly acquired India muslin gown. “Non farti passare per un santo.”

Searing heat touched her face as she struggled to remain indifferent. Heaven only knew what the man had said, but the tone of his voice was a bit too erotic for her liking. “Uh…forgive me, I do not understand.”

She casually held up the black velvet mask she held, hoping to distract him from looking at anything he oughtn’t. “Are you the keeper of this shop? Do you speak English? And if so, can you tell me how this is supposed to be affixed to one’s face?”

His dark brows rose. “British?” he asked in a heavy Venetian accent.

Oh, good. He spoke English. “Yes. I am British.”

He moved closer, the scent of cigars and leather floating toward her as he searched her face. “Visiting? Or staying?”

She swallowed, not at all comfortable with his questions or the way he continued to look at her as if examining a bottle of brandy he was trying to sip. “Your questions are not in the least bit respectable, signore. I ask you refrain.”

“Ah. I understand.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded and stepped closer, shrinking the already small aisle with his presence. “Remove your bonnet and open your mouth to me.”

Victoria scrambled back, farther into the aisle. “I beg your pardon?” she echoed, her fingers clenching on the mask.

The shop seemed to pulse as he drew closer, towering over her. The plate-glass windows beyond him eerily brightened the color of his golden-brown and gray hair and darkened the space around her. “Remove your bonnet and open your mouth to me. I will assist with your mask. The knob goes into your mouth and is held in place by your teeth.”

Oh! Is that what the knob was for? She let out an exasperated laugh, glancing down toward the mask. “I see. I understand. Thank you. Forgive me, but for a moment I actually thought…” She winced, realizing how indecent it would have been to even say it to a man she did not know.

“You flatter me.” The shopkeeper gestured toward the ribbons of her bonnet and smiled. “Remove your bonnet. I will assist.”

“No, thank you. That won’t be necessary. I—”

“One cannot purchase a mask without knowing if it matches the worth of its owner. Come. Remove your bonnet.”

She retreated a bit more. Why was he being so insistent? Was he afraid she wasn’t going to buy any of his masks? “I appreciate your assistance, sir, but there really is no need. I intend to purchase it, I assure you. I find the knob amusing.”

His dark brows came together. He folded his arms across his chest, the broad outline of his shoulders straining the fabric of his white shirt and waistcoat. “It is not meant to be amusing. Morettas were once worn by women who visited convents and do not allow their wearer to speak. Is that what you seek for yourself? A mask that holds no emotion?”

She feigned a less than enthused laugh. How depressingly appropriate that she would choose such a mask. She would find another one. She doubted Jonathan would approve of her wearing the sort of mask he’d been trying to metaphorically strip from her. A mask she was done with wearing. “I thank you for pointing out the history of the mask. I suppose that leaves me to find another one. One offering more cheer. Now if you will excuse me, signore, I—”

He blocked her from leaving with the width of his body, his arms dropping to his sides. “You are very pretty,” he concluded with a tilt of his head. “What is your name? Are you staying with the woman you arrived with? Is she your friend? Or family?”

Victoria blinked up at him in astonishment. Had he been watching her? Her heart pounded as she veered around him. “I am a married woman, signore, and therefore I respectably ask that you—”

He grabbed her arm and yanked her firmly back toward himself as if she had said quite the opposite. His dominating eyes held her in place as his grip tightened, pinching her skin beneath the sleeve of her morning gown. He leaned toward her and whispered, “I will ensure your husband never knows. Come with me. I promise to have you returned to him by the evening.”

Her eyes widened. Who did this vile imbecile of a shopkeeper think he was? She ripped herself from his grasp, tossed her mask toward one of the shelves and glared at him. “You think much too highly of yourself, sir. I suggest you leave before I call the authorities.”

She spun around, gathering her skirts from around her slippered feet and hurried down the aisle in the opposite direction. “Cornelia!” she yelled out.

She was not staying in this shop with a man like him in it. As she passed shelf after shelf of frozen masks, she eyed the open aisles alongside her, looking for Cornelia through the musty dimness, but there was not a single customer in sight, much less her sister-in-law.

The older gentleman’s shadowed frame stalked steadily alongside the opposite aisle of shelves. He stared her down through gaps between the shelves, his husky features tight as he dug into his inner pocket for something.

Panic seized her ability to breathe. She scrambled frantically toward the end of the shadowed aisle, looking to dash across, but he veered right in and grabbed her.

She screamed as he shoved her hard against the shelf. Using his large body to hold her in place, he ripped off her bonnet, grabbed hold of her face and shoved a bundled handkerchief deep into her mouth with large fingers. She gagged and tried to spit it out, but he only pressed his hand hard against her mouth, forcing it back in.

Though she screamed against the leather-scented handkerchief and the bare palm of his hand, it was naught more than a muted cry. Tears blinded her as she struggled violently against his large frame. Her elbows jarred the shelves at her back, shooting teeth-clenching pain up the length of her arms.

He crushed her against the shelf with his massive body and grabbed an ivory porcelain mask from the shelf beside her head. “This is a better fit,” he whispered.

Removing his hand from her mouth, he set the cold porcelain against her entire face, hooding her vision and in turn pushing the wadded handkerchief farther into her mouth.

Her eyes widened as she jerked her head against the mask and his movements, but his fingers had already secured the ribbons into place against the back of her head, pinching her temples and her scalp. She shoved against him with her hands, still trying to move, but couldn’t.

He was utterly mad! He intended to ravage her against a shelf? In the corner of a shop?!

He pressed against her harder, now crushing her ability to breathe and move as his erection dug into her corseted waist. Unraveling his lace cravat, he yanked her hands down and behind her, sending the masks at her back clattering. He met her gaze and smiled as he tugged and knotted the cravat tightly around her wrists. Her skin chafed and her hands could no longer move.