In the Tudor Court Collection. Amanda McCabe
that he looked older. His years of slavery and the hardships at sea had taken a toll of him as it must of any man.
No, it was madness to let his thoughts take him down that road. Already, he had let Kathryn inside his head and that had changed him. Because of her he had let Rachid’s son live and exchanged him for a girl who was like to cause them trouble, if his instincts proved true.
He frowned as he thought of the girl sleeping in his guest room. She was young and he ought to feel pity for her, but somehow he could not. She had looked at him in the same way as the harlots who plied the streets for their trade and he did not trust her.
Maria claimed that she had been kept in the harem and was to be sold to the Sultan’s harem, but Lorenzo had seen something in her eyes—a knowledge that was not often in the eyes of an innocent virgin. Perhaps he wronged her, but he suspected that she had been one of Rachid’s concubines—and that she had liked the experience. He suspected that she had resented being taken from him, and that was the reason for her distress.
She had pleaded with them to keep her in their home. She said that her father would send her to a nunnery because she had shamed her family. She could not be blamed for what had befallen her, unless…If she had enjoyed the position of favourite in Rachid’s harem, that would explain her fear of being rejected by her family.
He would have to watch her carefully, Lorenzo decided as he left the house. And he would find another home for her before he put to sea again—either with her father or someone else.
Chapter Eight
‘I do not like that girl,’ Elizabeta told Kathryn when they were walking together a few days later. ‘There is something about her—a slyness in the way she looks at you and Lorenzo, particularly Lorenzo. Be careful of her and trust nothing she tells you.’
‘Oh, you are too hard on her,’ Kathryn said with a smile to soften the words, for Elizabeta was perhaps the friend she liked to be with the most. She could not explain what had happened to Maria for she did not wish to ruin the girl’s chances of making friends and she might be looked down upon if people knew that she had spent some time in a harem. ‘She has been…ill. We are looking after her for a while, but she will go home to her family soon.’
‘The sooner the better,’ Elizabeta said. She took hold of Kathryn’s arm as they approached the silk merchant’s shop they had planned to visit that morning. ‘Do look at that lovely green material! It would look so well on you, Kathryn.’
‘Yes, it is very lovely,’ Kathryn said. She turned and beckoned to Maria, who was walking behind with Isabella Rinaldi. ‘Come and look at these silks, Maria. We shall buy material for you today; you must be tired of wearing my old gowns.’
‘Oh, no,’ Maria said, her eyes downcast. ‘You have been so kind to me, Kathryn. How could I be so ungrateful as to resent wearing your things?’
‘Well, you shall have a new gown,’ Kathryn said. ‘Come, look, and choose the silk you prefer.’
‘Oh, I do not know what to choose,’ Maria said, her hands fluttering over the bales of beautiful silks that the merchant had spread on trestles before his shop. ‘There are so many…that blue is lovely, and yet so is the green.’
‘Kathryn was thinking of buying the green for herself,’ Elizabeta said, her dark eyes narrowed and hostile as she looked at Maria. ‘The blue would suit you much better—or that grey.’
‘I do not like dull colours,’ Maria said and for a moment her eyes met Elizabeta’s in an expression of such hatred that the older woman gasped. ‘I shall have the blue if Kathryn prefers the green for herself.’
‘No, indeed, I do not need any more gowns for the moment,’ Kathryn said. ‘We shall take both the green and the blue, Maria. You shall have two new gowns and then you need not wear my old ones at all.’
‘You are too generous,’ Elizabeta said. ‘That green was perfect for you.’
‘It does not matter. There will be other silks,’ Kathryn said. She turned away, speaking to the merchant and directing him to send both bales of silk to her at the villa. ‘Shall we have something to drink at the inn or go back to my home?’
‘We are nearer to my house,’ Elizabeta said. ‘Come, we shall go home once I have ordered the silk I want for myself, and my servants will bring us refreshments. It is too warm to shop any more today.’ She smiled and linked arms with Kathryn.
Kathryn agreed that the sun was very warm and they all returned to Elizabeta’s house, which was situated not far from the Campo de’ Fiori, one of the streets of beautiful Renaissance buildings begun by Pope Nicholas in the fifteenth century.
The house was large, almost a palace, for Elizabeta’s husband was wealthy, though some years older than she. She took her guests through the echoing rooms, which were cool after the heat of the sun, into the courtyard garden, then left them to talk while she went to order the refreshments served to them.
Kathryn and Isabella sat down on one of the small stone seats, which had been set with cushions and placed in a shady spot, but Maria wandered off alone to explore the garden, which she had not seen before.
‘She is a strange girl, is she not?’ Isabella said, frowning a little. ‘She boasted to me that she has a lover and that he has promised to wed her. I thought you told me she had been ill?’
‘Yes, she has,’ Kathryn said. ‘I think she meant that she will be betrothed to someone when she goes home.’ She thought Maria foolish to talk of such things, for it would do her reputation no good.
‘She asked me if I had a lover,’ Isabella said. ‘I am sure she meant that she had…well, you know…’
Kathryn shook her head at her as Elizabeta came back to them, her servants carrying out extra chairs so that they might all be comfortable. Maria joined them as they sat down and the drinks were served.
For a while they sat talking about the things they had seen while they were out shopping, and Isabella told them that her father had said he was taking her to Venice in the spring.
‘He says that there is a family he wishes me to meet,’ she said. ‘I think he means to make a marriage contract for me. I hope the man he has chosen to be my husband is as handsome as yours, Kathryn.’
‘That is unlikely,’ Maria said, having been silent for some time. ‘There are not many men who look like Lorenzo Santorini. He is more likely to choose a rich man than a handsome one, for that is the way of fathers.’
‘Kathryn’s husband is very handsome,’ Isabella agreed with a little secret smile. ‘But I like his friend, Michael dei Ignacio. I would be happy if my father chose him.’
Maria pulled a face and then reached for her drink, knocking Elizabeta’s into her lap so that she jumped up, brushing at her skirts as the liquid soaked through the material.
‘Oh, forgive me,’ Maria apologised. ‘I am so clumsy.’
‘Yes, you are,’ Elizabeta said crossly. ‘You should take more care. This silk was expensive and it is ruined.’
‘I dare say your husband will buy you another,’ Maria said with a little shrug of her shoulders. ‘He must be very rich to own a house like this. One gown means nothing.’
Kathryn saw that Elizabeta was really angry, and poured her another drink from the jug on the table. ‘Let me dry it for you,’ she said. ‘Come inside, Elizabeta.’
‘No, no, it does not matter,’ Elizabeta said and shook her head at her. ‘I am sorry. It was an accident, of course. Do not worry, Maria. I have plenty more gowns—but this was a favourite.’
Maria lowered her head, her hands working in distress. ‘I did not do it on purpose,’ she said, but somehow not one of the other ladies present believed her. Her action had been quite deliberate and was meant to punish Elizabeta for some of her remarks earlier that day. It