It was past seven o’clock when their carriage drew up outside the Palazzo Riso. Lights blazed from the upper windows and they could hear music as they waited in line in the street. The courtyard was packed with vehicles dropping off their guests and by the time Alice, with Carina and Paulo, reached the reception, the party was in full swing.
Liveried footmen met them at the door and ushered them upstairs. Carina was both excited and apprehensive. Paulo had said news of the scandal in London had reached Palermo. If so, would she be lionised or cut dead? She was longing to dance, but she wouldn’t tolerate being snubbed. If that seemed likely, she would plead a headache and ask Paulo to take her home. At any rate, no one could criticise her appearance. Her hair was pinned up in a chignon, threaded with ribbons, and her dress cut wide across the shoulders with a daringly low neckline. Her arms were bare and her waist tiny above skirts that billowed out in a cascade of flounces.
They waited in line behind a group of chattering girls and Carina fidgeted with her fan. Through the doorway was a room full of people and the hum of conversation. At last her name was announced. As she stepped over the threshold, there was a sudden hush. Carina was aware everyone was looking at her and gripped her fan hard between her fingers. Then, with a lift of her chin, she extended her hand first to his wife and then to Baron Riso.
Baroness Riso was a handsome woman with a warm smile and grey hair. Carina would have liked to talk to her, but others followed behind. Paulo had disappeared and she stood with Alice by the door until the baron offered them both an arm. As he led them to the centre of the room, the hubbub of voices started up again. Within moments, they were surrounded by young men pressing for introductions. Baron Riso returned to his post by the door and Carina was pestered by suitors until every polka, mazurka and waltz was taken and her dance card was full.
‘I reserved the first dance for you. And the supper dance.’ Carina waved her programme at Paulo as he made his way through the crowd to her side.
‘I thought it was polite for a lady to wait until she was asked?’
‘You’d have been too late so I filled them in myself.’ Carina turned to Alice. ‘Why did you refuse every dance? We’re at a ball, don’t you know?’
‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ Jane Parsons came over before Alice could answer. ‘We’ve secured a table over there. Do please join our party.’
Jane indicated to where Mr and Mrs Goodwin were sitting with another couple. Alice nodded and smiled at Carina and Paulo. ‘You two go off and dance. I’m more than happy in the company of my friends. We shall meet for supper.’
‘Come on, Paulo. It’s time to do your duty!’
With Alice settled, Carina hurried Paulo towards the dance floor. Chairs and sofas were arranged for sitting out and in one corner men were playing rouge et noir with ivory chips. Paulo suggested they might join them, but she dragged him on, too eager to admire the pictures and fine Florentine tapestries until they came to the ballroom. Beneath the candle-lit chandeliers, couples swept by in a fast, spinning waltz. Paulo led her onto the floor and bowed as she dropped a curtsy. Her cousin was an accomplished dancer and after him came a stream of others until Carina was breathless and begged to sit down.
Her latest partner, a young man with soft brown eyes, went in search of refreshments and Carina looked around. The ballroom was gold and white with a carved ceiling and mirrors reflecting the swing of the men’s swallow-tailed coats and the girls’ dresses as they danced by. Heavy chignons were balanced on the girls’ shoulders and fans tied to velvet ribbons dangled from their wrists. The men were elegant although there was hardly a uniform to be seen – no epaulettes, sashes and shining boots. Carina missed the bright colours of the military – but she was at a ball, the first she had been to for months. Her heart thrilled to the sound of music, her foot tapping in time as Enrico Fola appeared beside her.
‘Your curiosity about Captain Mavrone is about to be satisfied. He’s over there. A warrant for his arrest and he shows himself openly in public. I believe he does it deliberately to provoke the authorities. Word will be all over Palermo by tomorrow.’
The music stopped and Carina looked in the direction Enrico indicated. A group of men stood talking at the far side of the room and her attention was drawn to a tall man with his back to her. Dark hair curled over the top of his collar, and, unlike other guests in tailcoats, he wore a jacket and breeches. As he turned to greet a fellow guest, his eyes caught her inquisitive gaze. They were a startling blue against his tanned skin and his regard was bold. The captain was clean-shaven, the lines of his mouth finely shaped and there was cool recklessness in his handsome face. He was the kind of man who would break a woman’s heart and walk away unscathed, Carina thought as her dancing partner returned.
She presented him to Enrico, and, when she looked again, Mavrone was still watching her. Carina opened her fan, peeping over the top, and saw him turn to one of his companions. Then he looked back and smiled, the invitation in his eyes as clear as if he had spoken the words out loud.
He was flirting with her, but not in the way practised in London. She was familiar with the tricks for attracting a man – the sideways glance and fluttering eyelashes – but she sensed Captain Mavrone had no time for frivolity. He appeared relaxed, but there was a tension in his pose that reminded her of a soldier away from his regiment in time of war.
Warning bells rang in her head. Look away now. Don’t encourage him! Oh, but he was so good-looking … His gaze was magnetic and Carina couldn’t help herself. She lowered her fan and their eyes locked again. Mavrone bowed his head and raised his glass. Was he toasting her health or admitting defeat? There was no way of knowing, for a naval officer stood in front of her to claim the next dance. By the time it was over, both Baron Riso and Captain Mavrone had left the ballroom.
‘Enrico tells me you spotted the infamous captain,’ Paulo commented as he led her in to supper. ‘Were you bowled over like every other woman in Palermo?’
‘In my opinion he’s a rogue with too high an opinion of himself.’
At the far end were tables laden with dishes of meats and salads and her cousin declared he was famished. He filled their plates before they went to find Alice with Jane and the Goodwins. They sat down at their table and conversation picked up from where it had left off. When she had finished, Carina emptied her glass of wine and smiled at Paulo.
‘So, are you enjoying yourself? I hope you’ve dispensed with your reservations?’
‘It’s a grand affair, but there’s more to it than meets the eye. Don’t you find it odd Captain Mavrone attends a ball where he’s in danger of arrest for the sake of a few waltzes?’
‘Enrico says he does it to taunt Maniscalco and Prince Scalia.’
‘Enrico’s my oldest friend, but he’s not always right. And I’ve seen other disreputable characters who don’t normally attend occasions like this.’
‘Why shouldn’t they be here if they’re friends of our host?’
‘Then tell me where they’ve all gone! Before the last dance I walked through the reception rooms and didn’t see any of them. Baron Riso doesn’t appear to be mingling with his guests.’
That much was true. Every table was occupied and Baroness Riso sat close by, surrounded by a large party. But her husband was not with her and Captain Mavrone nowhere in sight.
‘So where do you think they are? Making bombs in the basement or hatching a plot upstairs?’ Carina was glib.
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they were doing both.’
Paulo placed his hands on the arms of his chair and Carina gave him a suspicious look. ‘I hope you’re not planning a reconnaissance?’
‘The idea never entered my head, sweet cousin.’ Paulo smiled disingenuously. ‘It’s warm in here and I need some fresh air.’
Paulo stood up, excusing himself to Alice, and Carina watched as he made his way through the oncoming tide of guests. Waiters brought puddings to their table and Jane announced that the small pink mounds were shaped like breasts in honour of the martyrdom of St Agatha.
‘How utterly awful!’ Alice declared, and put down her spoon.
‘They’re made by the nuns in the Convent of Santa Maria and are quite delicious. Do please try some.’
Carina did not hear her aunt’s response. She was wondering where Paulo had gone. Gabriella said he was capable of espionage and perhaps he was, after all. She imagined him creeping around, taking notes on his host’s activities to report back to his father. Coffee was served and he should be back by now. It was exactly as Gabriella had feared. Paulo was searching the house and she must find him before it was too late! Looking down at her programme, Carina said the first thing that came into her head.
‘Forgive me, but I’m engaged for the next mazurka. When Paulo returns, please tell him I’m on the dance floor?’
As she left the table, Carina realised the mazurka was over. The orchestra was playing a polonaise and she hoped Alice and Jane were too occupied by the pudding to notice. The dance was underway and it was easy to slip unnoticed into the next room. The sound of laughter came from an alcove where a couple was sitting but most of the guests were at supper and when she reached the landing the hall was deserted. Where was Paulo? It was far too chilly for him to have stayed outside all this time. Had he gone to search the upper floors or was he down in the cellars?
Carina peered cautiously over the bannister. The hall below was empty and she made up her mind and started up the stairs. She prayed she wouldn’t run into Baron Riso or anyone else. What possible reason could she give for coming up here? She was doing nothing wrong, she told herself. If she were caught, she would think of some excuse. The wine she had drunk with supper gave her courage and when she reached the upper floor she stopped and listened.
She could hear the orchestra playing far off, but all around her was quiet. A passage leading off the stairwell disappeared into a void of blackness and the stillness made her apprehensive. Perhaps she should return to the anteroom and wait for Paulo there? But before she did, she must make certain he wasn’t up here. She would take a quick look along the passage and then go back downstairs.
Running her hand along the panelled wall, Carina walked down the corridor. There were no illuminations and every few paces she peered over her shoulder to the stairwell. On one side, the windows were draped with heavy curtains and there were doors on the other. The bedrooms must be on this floor, she thought, and all their occupants downstairs. Soon maids and valets would come to tend the fires. She was about to retreat when she glimpsed a crack of light beneath a doorway ahead.
Carina crept forward, her shoulder pressed against the wall. She heard voices and held her breath as she tried to make out what they were saying. The name ‘Denuzio’ was enunciated in a slow, distinctive drawl and anxiety flashed through her. Had Paulo been caught? Was he inside the room being interrogated?
As she concentrated, trying to distinguish her cousin’s voice from the others, she began to catch the drift of the discussion. Count Maniscalco’s name came up and then another she recognised, Francesco Crispi. Where had she heard that name before? Jane had spoken of him, she remembered. Francesco Crispi was a Sicilian exile in London and an outspoken advocate of revolution! Carina felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.
‘Why wait?’ someone asked.
‘Because we’re not ready.’ Baron Riso’s voice was unmistakable. ‘We need Francesco Crispi to rally the support of our countrymen. Without him the revolution will fail.’
There was no doubt that he was in charge and Carina clasped her hand over her mouth. She had done exactly what she suspected of Paulo and spied on Baron Riso! She couldn’t bear to hear another word and, flattening the sides of her skirts with her hands, sped back along the passage. She was in sight of the landing when she heard the click of a door and the soft tread of footsteps. Someone had left the meeting early. Whoever it was, they would see her the moment she came into the light of the stairwell! She must find somewhere to hide, and, as her arm brushed against fabric, Carina remembered the concealed windows.
She slipped behind a heavy curtain, heart skittering as the footsteps came nearer. Please don’t let them stop! Don’t stop! As she willed the footsteps to go on past, she noticed the hem of her skirt was caught beneath the curtain fringe. She bent down to pull it back out of sight, then let out a yelp of fright as a hand grasped her wrist and the curtains parted to reveal the unsmiling face of Ben Mavrone.
‘So what have we here? A mouse skulking in a corner or a new recruit for Count Maniscalco?’
His eyes went over her and Carina’s mouth turned dry.
‘Has complicity deprived you of the power of speech, Miss Temple?’
‘I lost my way. I’m looking for my cousin. He’s … he’s unwell …’ she stammered. ‘I believe he came up here to lie down in the library.’
‘And you expected to find the library up here? Surely you passed through it downstairs?’ Mavrone’s grasp tightened.
‘I meant Baron Riso’s private library.’
She was improvising wildly and Mavrone took a step forward. The curtains closed behind him and Carina was acutely aware of the proximity of his body in the cramped space. Her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths but, apart from the way he held her, Mavrone seemed relaxed.
‘Did you come up here to spy on Baron Riso or to meet a lover for a secret tryst?’ he asked, studying her with faint curiosity.
‘I told you I was looking for my cousin.’
‘I don’t believe you, ma’am. Please will you try again?’
‘I heard nothing, I tell you!’
He hoped to force an admission from her and Carina responded in a fierce whisper, ‘I’ve told you the truth. Now let go of me!’
‘You don’t really expect me to do that, do you? Perhaps you’d rather tell Baron Riso why you were eavesdropping on his private party?’
‘Take me to the baron if you wish. I know he will believe me. I know him to be a gentleman and not an ill-mannered bully!’
When Mavrone released her, Carina experienced a moment of triumph. She had made him back down. If she were prepared to explain herself to Baron Riso, then he could detain her no longer. She would tell the baron just what she told him. Unless they had found Paulo, she was in the clear. So why didn’t he move out of her way?
‘Are you in such a hurry to leave?’
The question was an enticement, echoing the silent exchange of earlier and Carina could barely breathe. There was danger here, a dark enchantment to which she was susceptible and she swallowed hard.
‘Will you please let me pass?’
Mavrone nodded, but did not move. Only the bulk of her petticoats kept the lower half of her body from touching his as Carina began to edge past him. Later, when she dissected the manoeuvre in detail, she couldn’t think why, when she had to move sideways, she did not turn her back. It was awkward in any case and made more difficult by the width of her skirts. One of his buttons snagged the ribbon of her corsage. Carina felt his hand brush against her breast as he broke the thread to release it.
Captain Mavrone was testing her to the limit and waited until the last moment. As Carina’s hand reached for the curtain, his arm went round her waist. He pulled her back and Carina did not resist or cry out. Moonlight turned the colour of his eyes metallic and she gazed at him, spellbound. He ran his fingers lightly down the side of her cheek and then his mouth came down on her lips.
The memory of Robert Danby ripped across her mind and vanished. Mavrone’s kiss induced a different sensation altogether. She could feel the warmth of his body beneath his jacket as he kissed her deeply and passionately. Her eyes closed and her head fell back against his arm. Mavrone’s hand tangled in her hair, the other caressing her neck and Carina melted into his embrace. Wrapped in the dark night, she was aware only of the exquisite feel of his lips and the touch of his fingers. When he stood back, she swayed unsteadily against him. He placed his hands on her shoulders to look down into her face.
‘By God, ma’am, you’re certainly worthy of your reputation.’
As his words penetrated her trance-like state, rage and humiliation flowed through Carina and she drew back her hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. She would have hit him again but Mavrone caught hold of her wrists. Maddened by the way he held her, she shouted at him.
‘Damn you to hell! Damn you, let me go!’
‘I believe you came up here looking for me and I’m flattered.’ In contrast to her own, Mavrone’s voice was level. ‘It’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance. When you’re ready, I shall escort you back downstairs.’
Carina’s hands shook as she straightened the line of her bertha. Unable to think of an insult crushing enough, she pushed past him and stepped into the passage. The hem of her skirt caught and she jerked the fabric so hard a panel of organza split from hem to waist. She couldn’t go back to the party looking like this! She must tidy her hair and find someone with a needle and thread to repair her dress. There would be a retiring room, most likely on the ground floor, and she walked swiftly to the landing.
Gathering up her skirts, she heard Mavrone’s footsteps behind her as she ran down the stairs, fury bursting within her, until she was halted by the sight of Paulo in the hall. Her cousin was staring at her as if she had fallen out of the sky; he appeared so surprised that at first he didn’t notice who followed.
‘Angels defend us, where have you been?’
‘The young lady was looking for you upstairs,’ Mavrone answered before Carina could utter a word. ‘Miss Temple was concerned for your welfare. So much so, in fact, she was oblivious to the compromising situation in which she placed herself. She was searching the bedrooms. You can imagine my surprise when she entered mine.’
Paulo’s mouth dropped open and Carina’s gaze swung from him to Mavrone. What the devil was he talking about? Was the captain afraid she might tell Paulo of the conversation she had overheard? Mavrone wanted to ensure her silence and didn’t care if he traduced her – but what could she say in defence? To admit she’d been upstairs was bad enough, but the sight of her hair and torn dress was explicit condemnation. If she gave the conspirators away, he would surely let it be known she had been in his bedroom. Gossip was the meat on which the appetites of Palermo fed and the look in his eyes implied the story would be embellished in the telling.
Left speechless by his audacity, Carina turned her back on the men. She heard Paulo answer, his voice tight with the effort of controlling himself. ‘My cousin’s not feeling herself tonight. I’ll find her aunt and take her home immediately. We would be grateful if you’d keep this unfortunate incident to yourself, sir.’
‘That would certainly be best for all concerned.’ Mavrone’s easy tone was deceptive. ‘However, my discretion comes at a price. I will only remain silent if the bargain is kept by all three of us.’
‘You have my word upon it.’
‘And that of Miss Temple?’
‘Miss Temple will gladly forget she ever made your acquaintance,’ Paulo answered firmly. ‘As far we’re concerned, we didn’t see you here this evening, Captain Mavrone.’
Without giving her a chance to gainsay him, Paulo took Carina by the arm, his fingers pinching above the elbow as he marched her across the hall to the front door and called for a man to bring their cloaks.
‘Stay here and don’t speak to him again, do you understand!’ he hissed in her ear. ‘I will go and fetch Miss Alice.’
When a footman brought her cloak and placed it over her shoulders, Carina did not take the trouble to thank him. Seething with rage, she waited in the cold draught for Paulo to return with Alice. Their carriage was summoned and, once hidden in the dark interior, she looked in the direction of the hall and saw Mavrone had gone.
Oblivious to the frost between the cousins, Alice chatted happily on the way home while Carina huddled in a corner. She wondered how an evening that began with such high hopes could end so badly. If Paulo hadn’t gone wandering off, the encounter with Mavrone would have been avoided. And what was he doing in the hall when she came down? He should never have given in to the captain’s blackmail! If he believed in her virtue, then he should have followed her example and kept quiet. She would talk to him in the morning, she decided, but, when they arrived back and Alice went upstairs, Paulo caught her before she could escape. ‘What, in the name of heaven, do you think you were up to?’
‘I was looking for you. I bumped into Captain Mavrone. He accused me of trespassing and we had a brush.’
‘A brush! A brush?’ Paulo looked at her as if she had lost her wits. ‘Is that what you call it – when you turn up looking for all the world as if you’ve been rolling in the hay with a farm boy?’
‘It wasn’t my fault! You were away so long I was worried about you.’
‘Enrico and I played a few hands of piquet. When I came back, I was told you were on the dance floor.’
Paulo would never admit he was guilty and maybe he wasn’t – but he had an alibi, which was more than she could say for herself. If she alienated him further, he might go to his father and that would be a catastrophe. She would be locked in a nunnery or worse. An apology was in order.
‘I’m truly sorry, Paulo. I beg you not to say a word, please! There was no harm done. I swear I’ll die if you betray me.’
‘I’m beginning to understand why you were banished from London.’ Paulo searched her face to assess how much sincerity was in her words. ‘We’ve standards in Sicily, too, you know. It’s a grave mistake to ignore them.’
‘Oh, Paulo, you told me all those things and they went to my head. If it were the other way round, I would never give you away. I would stand by you, even on pain of death.’
Carina hung her head as she stood in front of Paulo, trying to look ashamed, and finally he touched the back of his hand to her cheek. She kissed him goodnight and, halfway up the stairs, stopped to look down. There was a gleam of amusement in Paulo’s eyes. He had a fair idea of what had happened, she thought, but her cousin wouldn’t betray her. They were two of a kind and she could trust him.
Rose was waiting in the bedroom to help her out of her dress and untwine the ribbons from her hair. The delicate watch-spring steel of her new crinoline had survived and when Rose left, her arms full of organza and stiff petticoats, Carina went to sit by the hearth.
She closed her eyes and felt again the pressure of Mavrone’s arms around her and the taste of his lips. The memory of his kiss sent tremours down her nerves. She would like to think he had taken advantage of her, but she couldn’t deceive herself. The moment their eyes met, a charge of electricity had leapt between them. For the first time in her life, she had experienced a physical response that was beyond her power to control. Yet equal to the fire she had felt, was the heat of her indignation. Mavrone was a hardened soldier – but to throw her reputation in her face was contemptible. How could she have let him kiss her?
She needed fresh air and Carina slung her shawl about her shoulders. Opening the shutters, she stepped out on to the balcony. Palermo was spread out below, its slender spires silhouetted against an indigo sky and lights bobbing in the harbour as fishing boats set out for the early catch. Down there, men like Ben Mavrone and Baron Riso were plotting revolution. She had learnt their secret. Did that make her an accomplice to the crime? There was no real evidence. She had only overheard a few words. Besides, if Gabriella was right, then Baron Riso was on the side of the angels. And for all she knew, she was too … It was time for bed and Carina turned back towards her bedroom. Her thoughts returned to Ben Mavrone and it struck her then that the whole of the conversation upstairs had been in English. Mavrone was Sicilian, but when they were alone he had spoken in her native tongue and she hadn’t noticed until now because his accent was perfect, his use of the language as fluent and natural as her own.