His Rags-To-Riches Contessa. Marguerite Kaye

His Rags-To-Riches Contessa - Marguerite Kaye


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tried to protect, then he would still be alive today.’ Luca took a shuddering breath. ‘If I had received that letter in time, perhaps he would be alive still.’

      ‘You can’t think that way,’ Becky said fervently. ‘Even if you had received the letter earlier, you still wouldn’t have returned to Venice in time to prevent your father’s murder, would you?’ Which was no doubt true, but for Luca, she understood, quite irrelevant. He would continue to torture himself with guilt until he had found a way to atone. Finally, she understood his plan. ‘You can’t bring him back,’ she said, ‘but you can prevent Don Sarti squandering Venice’s money, just as your father wished, is that it? You want me to win it back?’

      ‘Yes.’ Luca let out a long, heartfelt sigh. ‘That is my plan exactly. I want to reclaim the money for my city, and I want to see Don Sarti destroyed in the process. I want to use his vice against him. We will turn the tables on him, quite literally. We will indulge this passion of his until he has returned everything he took from the city. I have to do this, Becky. Per amor del cielo, I have no choice. Until it is done, my life is not my own.’

      That too she could see, in the haunted look in his eyes. ‘How much do I have to win?’ Becky asked, knowing already that she didn’t want to hear the answer.

      ‘I don’t know for sure, but I can tell you what my father estimated.’

      He did, and the sum he named made her blanch. ‘It sounds like a king’s ransom.’

      ‘A city’s ransom. It is a dangerous game we will play. If the stakes are too high for you, you can, as The Procurer said, return to England.’

      And face the threat of the gallows? Not likely, Becky thought. ‘We have a saying back home, as well to be hung for a sheep as a lamb. One—what do you call it?—scudo, or a thousand or a million, I don’t suppose it’ll make any difference, it’s all the same to me. It’s not my money I’ll be staking, and as for the winnings—what are you planning to do with your winnings, Luca, assuming you’re not going to litter the streets of Venice with gold for people to pick up?’

      ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Does this mean that I can rely on you?’

      She knew she should consider more carefully, but what was the point! Luca desperately needed help for a very good cause. She desperately wanted to earn that fee, her ticket to freedom from a life of trickery, and to dodge the noose. It was risky, extremely risky, but there were always ways of managing risk, always ways of making fortune work in your favour. ‘If there’s a way to pull it off, I’ll find it,’ she said, ‘but you need to understand one golden rule about gambling. Even when the deck is stacked, there are no guarantees.’

      ‘I think I would trust you less if you tried to pretend otherwise.’ He kissed her hand. ‘You come to me under tragic circumstances, but you are a beacon of light at the end of a very dark tunnel.’ He pressed another kiss to her fingertips before releasing her. ‘I don’t know about you, but I am in dire need of some refreshment before we continue. My mother will be home soon, and we still have a great deal to discuss.’

      Luca’s idea of refreshment was more strong black coffee. It arrived so promptly when he rang the bell that Becky thought they must have an endless supply on tap in the kitchen. Just a few sips, and she felt her heart begin to race.

      ‘Would you prefer tea?’ he asked, already on to his second cup as she set hers aside.

      ‘No, thank you. This stuff might be mother’s milk to you, but if I have any more I’ll have palpitations.’

      ‘Mother’s milk, that is what they call gin in London, isn’t it?’

      ‘You’re thinking of mother’s ruin. And that’s not my cup of tea either. Shall we continue?’

      He nodded. ‘I have been thinking,’ he said, looking decidedly uncomfortable, ‘about your role as Cousin Rebecca. If you are to play it convincingly, it is not only a matter of wearing the right clothes.’

      ‘You mean manners and etiquette? How to behave in polite society. I know I need some help, but I’m a quick learner, I promise.’

      ‘Then you won’t be offended if I ask my mother to give you some pointers?’

      ‘I would be delighted,’ Becky said, heartily relieved. ‘I would have asked you myself, only I didn’t want you to think I’m not up to the role. Are you sure she’ll be willing to help me?’

      ‘Certainly, because by helping you she’ll be helping me.’

      ‘She won’t be used to mingling with the likes of me.’

      Luca smiled faintly. ‘I’ve never met the likes of you. I find you a very intriguing mixture, Miss Becky Wickes.’

      It didn’t sound at all like a compliment, so it was silly of her to be blushing like a school chit. ‘You make me sound like a cake batter.’

      He laughed. ‘My mother will like you, I am sure of it.’

      Since it wasn’t in her interests to contradict him, Becky decided to hold her tongue. ‘It’s not just a matter of how I behave when I’m Cousin Rebecca though,’ she said. ‘It’s about...’

      ‘The cards,’ Luca said, pre-empting her.

      ‘Well, yes.’

      ‘We use different packs here, and we play different games, if that’s what you were going to ask.’

      ‘I was.’

      ‘I can teach you. I’m not an expert, I’ll have to rely on you to determine how to—to...’

      ‘Cheat. You might as well call a spade a spade, if you’ll forgive the terrible pun. That’s my particular field of expertise. But there’s more to it than that. This Carnival...’

      ‘There is nothing like it. It is exciting, it is dangerous, it is a time of intrigue and of decadence. The whole city takes part. You don’t know if you are dancing with a countess or a laundry maid, or even,’ Luca said with a wicked smile, ‘a man or a woman.’

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