Alice, who had heard a brief overview of her employer’s history, clucked in sympathy. “Some people are just very rigid in their thinking, especially when they are surrounded by toad-eaters and flatterers who tell them from birth that they are always right.” The maid thought for a moment. “No one defies a duke. So it must be hard for him to know when he is right or wrong.”
Kate sighed. “That is a very wise observation, Alice.” She took up her inkwell and set the thick, viscous liquid to swirling against the cut crystal. “But it’s hard to forgive him all the same. His pride is so… so bloody unyielding.” The ink spun faster and faster, creating a vortex that seemed to suck her mood into its black depth.
“I’m only here because I made a deathbed promise to my parents that I would seek a reconciliation with my grandfather,” she continued. But things were not sailing along very smoothly. “To be honest, if I had my choice, I would book passage on the first merchant ship sailing from the East India docks and never look back.”
“There is something to be said for a life free from worry and want,” murmured Alice. “Here you are surrounded by luxury and people anxious to do your bidding.”
“Yes, and most of the time it makes me feel like a bird trapped in a gilded cage. I’m used to my freedom, my independence, and I prefer to exercise my own judgment, rather than be treated as if I had naught but feathers stuffed between my ears.”
Her maid smothered a snort. “That is for sure.”
Kate tried to look offended, but a telltale smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Am I really that bad?”
“Well, let us just say that next time you wish to exercise your independence, try not to do it in front of Angelo’s fencing salon. I’m not sure those two young gentlemen have yet recovered from having you threaten to cut off their cods.”
“I didn’t!” she protested. “Not precisely.”
The incident had been a touch flamboyant, even for her. But Kate had thought Alessandra was in imminent danger and needed to speak with the infamous Giovanni Marco Musto della Ghiradelli without delay. It wasn’t entirely her fault that the conte had chosen to saunter out into the street clad in a sweat-damp shirt, skintight buckskins, and bare feet.
“You may not have mentioned a specific anatomical appendage, but they weren’t taking any chances.” Alice primly smoothed at her skirts. “In the future, please try to be more discreet. I like this job, but the duke will have my guts for garters if I let you stir up a whiff of scandal.”
“Hmmph,” she huffed under her breath. “Had he been more circumspect with his own daughter, I would not be such a black blot on his precious ducal dignity.”
“Society may remember the old scandal of your mother’s elopement, but in their eyes, you are a perfectly respectable young lady who has grown up in Boston.” Coals crackled in the hearth, speckling the ashes with a shower of orange sparks. “Let us try not to upset their assumptions.”
Kate went back to her writing.
Moving to the delicate pearwood escritoire, Alice began sorting through the pile of invitations. “Shall you be wearing the indigo-figured silk gown to Lady Hamden’s soiree tonight?”
“Drat, I had forgotten all about that.” She slapped down her pen. “The dowager is dull as dishwater, and her musical programs usually sound like a sackful of wet cats trying to claw their way loose. I think I shall cry off.”
“You’ve squirmed out of the last three engagements,” pointed out Alice. “And the lady is a very good friend of your grandfather.”
“Whose side are you on?” groused Kate.
“I’ve merely been listening to your little lectures on how a female must be practical and pragmatic,” said her maid. “Attending tonight’s soiree will please the duke—a fact that may prove useful the next time he frowns on something you wish to do.”
“Lud, you would put Machiavelli to blush.”
“Macky-who?”
“Never mind,” said Kate. “He’s an Italian gentleman known for his scheming mind.”
“Italian, eh? Like that dark-haired devil with the divine legs? The one who looks like he was sculpted by Macky… Macky—”
“Angelo,” finished Kate. “Si, like that one.”
“Are all the men from that country handsome as sin?”
Sin. Recalling the tempting curl of Marco’s mouth, Kate shifted on her chair, uncomfortably aware that somewhere deep inside her, a serpent stirred, slowly uncurling its sinuous scales. Damnably cold-blooded creatures, snakes sought any source of warmth—even