Read Online Seduced by Innocence by Lucy Gordon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lucy Gordon
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“In winter it seems to me to be a sinister place, full of shades and dark corners.”
“You’re being fanciful, my dear,” Francisco told her coolly. “You see shades where there are none.”
“Perhaps it’s because the contessa is an artist,” Maurizio said. “Artists are always a little fanciful.”
“I own an art gallery in this city,” Francisco explained to Terri. “My wife supervises it very ably.”
“And I’m sure you’ve done the contessa an injustice,” Terri told Maurizio. “You don’t have to be fanciful to be an artist. My brother is artistic, and through him I’ve met several artists. Most of them struck me as very tough and practical.”
“That’s true,” Elena agreed, smiling at her as if grateful for the young woman’s support. “The artists I deal with all seem to have eyes like hawks for the last penny. Or their agents do.”
“I’m sure you deal with them very efficiently, my dear,” Francisco said. “Your own ability to spot the last penny has frequently earned my respect.”
It was said with a smile and might just have passed for a compliment. But there was something faintly disagreeable about Francisco’s manner that chilled Terri. It seemed that Elena felt the same because a wan smile crossed her face.
Guests were arriving fast. Maurizio toasted the trio in champagne before excusing himself. Elena’s attention was immediately claimed by several men at once and she vanished in an eager group, leaving Terri with Francisco. “Do you play?” he asked.
“I’m not a gambler,” she confessed with a laugh. “I played for the first time tonight, using the complimentary chips we were all given.”
“Ah, yes. How clever of Maurizio to do that. Of course, he knows he’ll get it all back with interest before the evening’s over.”
Terri realized this was true, but something in Francisco’s arrogant manner made her feel like being contrary. “Perhaps he won’t. Some people do get lucky.”
“One or two,” Francisco conceded with a shrug. “But overall, the casino always emerges the winner. To be more precise, Maurizio is always the winner—in play and in life. He makes sure of that.”
“In play and in life,” Terri echoed.
“No man in Venice is more ruthless or more feared. Has nobody told you that?”
“No.”
He laughed. “Well, you’ll discover it for yourself.”
“Why are you trying to turn me against him?”
“But I’m not. I’m a Venetian and so is he. Venetians respect exactly those qualities that have made Maurizio what he is.” With a smooth gesture, he lifted a glass of champagne from a passing tray and handed it to her. “Why don’t we take a little fresh air?” he said, indicating the terrace.
A ripple of laughter from behind them made Terri turn her head. Elena was in the center of a group of admirers, laughing merrily, and she looked as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “She’s so beautiful,” Terri said wistfully.
“Yes, indeed. Everybody says so,” Francisco agreed. “Sometimes I have to compete for her attention. I’m a proud—though somewhat neglected—husband.” But he didn’t sound proud.
“I’m sure she doesn’t really neglect you,” Terri said.
“But of course she does. Husbands and wives ought to neglect each other. To live in each other’s pockets would be very boring. A few—how shall I put it delicately?—’outside interests’ add spice to a marriage.” He laughed. “Have I shocked you?”
“Of course not,” she disclaimed hastily, feeling gauche and provincial. She was less shocked than embarrassed by the feeling that Francisco was deliberately trying to shock her. Glancing up, she saw that he was watching her in a way that made her uncomfortable. She became intensely aware of how provocatively she was dressed, not pleasantly aware as with Maurizio, but as though she were revealing something to Francisco’s sharp eyes that ought to be kept hidden.
“I visited England
“You’re being fanciful, my dear,” Francisco told her coolly. “You see shades where there are none.”
“Perhaps it’s because the contessa is an artist,” Maurizio said. “Artists are always a little fanciful.”
“I own an art gallery in this city,” Francisco explained to Terri. “My wife supervises it very ably.”
“And I’m sure you’ve done the contessa an injustice,” Terri told Maurizio. “You don’t have to be fanciful to be an artist. My brother is artistic, and through him I’ve met several artists. Most of them struck me as very tough and practical.”
“That’s true,” Elena agreed, smiling at her as if grateful for the young woman’s support. “The artists I deal with all seem to have eyes like hawks for the last penny. Or their agents do.”
“I’m sure you deal with them very efficiently, my dear,” Francisco said. “Your own ability to spot the last penny has frequently earned my respect.”
It was said with a smile and might just have passed for a compliment. But there was something faintly disagreeable about Francisco’s manner that chilled Terri. It seemed that Elena felt the same because a wan smile crossed her face.
Guests were arriving fast. Maurizio toasted the trio in champagne before excusing himself. Elena’s attention was immediately claimed by several men at once and she vanished in an eager group, leaving Terri with Francisco. “Do you play?” he asked.
“I’m not a gambler,” she confessed with a laugh. “I played for the first time tonight, using the complimentary chips we were all given.”
“Ah, yes. How clever of Maurizio to do that. Of course, he knows he’ll get it all back with interest before the evening’s over.”
Terri realized this was true, but something in Francisco’s arrogant manner made her feel like being contrary. “Perhaps he won’t. Some people do get lucky.”
“One or two,” Francisco conceded with a shrug. “But overall, the casino always emerges the winner. To be more precise, Maurizio is always the winner—in play and in life. He makes sure of that.”
“In play and in life,” Terri echoed.
“No man in Venice is more ruthless or more feared. Has nobody told you that?”
“No.”
He laughed. “Well, you’ll discover it for yourself.”
“Why are you trying to turn me against him?”
“But I’m not. I’m a Venetian and so is he. Venetians respect exactly those qualities that have made Maurizio what he is.” With a smooth gesture, he lifted a glass of champagne from a passing tray and handed it to her. “Why don’t we take a little fresh air?” he said, indicating the terrace.
A ripple of laughter from behind them made Terri turn her head. Elena was in the center of a group of admirers, laughing merrily, and she looked as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “She’s so beautiful,” Terri said wistfully.
“Yes, indeed. Everybody says so,” Francisco agreed. “Sometimes I have to compete for her attention. I’m a proud—though somewhat neglected—husband.” But he didn’t sound proud.
“I’m sure she doesn’t really neglect you,” Terri said.
“But of course she does. Husbands and wives ought to neglect each other. To live in each other’s pockets would be very boring. A few—how shall I put it delicately?—’outside interests’ add spice to a marriage.” He laughed. “Have I shocked you?”
“Of course not,” she disclaimed hastily, feeling gauche and provincial. She was less shocked than embarrassed by the feeling that Francisco was deliberately trying to shock her. Glancing up, she saw that he was watching her in a way that made her uncomfortable. She became intensely aware of how provocatively she was dressed, not pleasantly aware as with Maurizio, but as though she were revealing something to Francisco’s sharp eyes that ought to be kept hidden.
“I visited England
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