Read Online The Bride Wore Scarlet by Liz Carlyle - Free Book Online

almost unaware of his looks. Indeed, he moved like some lean jungle creature, instinctively elegant and smooth, as if he owned the world and spared it scarcely a thought. Vain, self-absorbed men were easy to understand—and easy to manipulate, Anaïs had learned.
    Suddenly, it dawned on Anaïs that Bessett mightn’t prove so simple. Assuming she meant to try to get her way with him.
    But what choice did she have? He was a leader here. Giovanni had told her that much early on. Indeed, he had been deeply grateful for Bessett’s efforts to reestablish the Fraternitas , and center it in London—here, in this house, the so-called St. James Society. And judging from the opulence that was apparent throughout, he’d spent quite a lot of money doing it, too.
    Just then, a faint sound roused her. Anaïs sat fully upright to see that the beautiful, dark-haired woman had returned, carrying a tray with a tea service and two cups.
    She set it down wordlessly, then with the faintest bob of a curtsy, moved as if to go.
    Anaïs found the idea of such a lovely, regal creature curtsying to her vaguely amusing. “I am sorry,” she said again. “I was frightfully rude earlier, and you are very kind, Mrs.—?”
    At last the woman lifted her gaze to meet Anaïs’s, but she did not look the least bit humbled. “Belkadi,” she said quietly. “Miss Belkadi.”
    â€œAnd you live here?” Anaïs asked. “In this house?”
    â€œWith my brother, Samir,” she said.
    â€œI am surprised they permit you,” Anaïs sourly remarked. “There has been a great deal of fuss and nonsense over my being here.”
    Miss Belkadi let her gaze drift over Anaïs’s scantily clad state, but did not remark upon it. “My brother is the house steward,” she replied coolly. I keep the accounts, and manage the small female staff.”
    Like a housekeeper, Anaïs thought.
    Except that this woman looked about as much like a housekeeper as Queen Victoria resembled a costermonger. But she was dressed plainly, in a gown of dark gray merino that covered her to the neck, and her dark brown hair was caught up in the simplest of arrangements. Despite all the severity, however, she could not have been much older than Anaïs herself.
    â€œWon’t you sit down, Miss Belkadi?” she blurted. “Really, I know my manners are lacking, but I could do with a kind face just now.”
    Somehow, Anaïs had known that her unwilling hostess would be too gracious to refuse. “Very well,” she answered, sweeping her skirts neatly beneath her as she sat. “Shall I pour?”
    Anaïs smiled. “That is a lovely accent,” she said. “Are you French?”
    Miss Belkadi’s gaze flicked up but an instant. “Partly,” she said. “Do you take sugar?”
    â€œNo, nothing, thank you.”
    The tea was hot, and incredibly strong. Surprisingly, Anaïs found it restorative. For all her bold words, tonight’s ceremony had taken a greater emotional toll than she cared to admit, and a part of her was relieved it was over.
    Except it wasn’t over.
    Anaïs was down, but not defeated. How many times had Nonna Sofia warned her that this life would not go easily for her? There hadn’t been a female within the Fraternitas in centuries; perhaps since the great Celtic priestesses died out.
    Once tonight’s shock was over—for all of them—Anaïs must simply try to convince the Fraternitas in London to take her. Or she could return to Tuscany, she supposed, and fall back on Cousin Giovanni’s contacts. The Vittorio family had many. But like so much of Europe, Tuscany had grown increasingly unstable, and the Gift—well, there was no one left who needed her. The few who were still known had been sent abroad; to relatives, to other Guardians across the Continent, all off to higher ground in an ocean of political