Page 1 of The Lady's Guide to Well-Endowed Dukes
PROLOGUE
Venice
Late September, 1905
Moonlight shimmeredon the canal as the gondola passed. The seated woman wrapped her cloak close, looking up at the edifices of Istrian stone and exposed brickwork. The buildings bore a faded elegance, the balconies empty and the rooms dark.
Only as they passed from the narrow avenue into a larger waterway did the sound of music float upon the air. The gondolier guided them onward, toward a building far grander than those that surrounded it: the Palazzo di Zorzi Tiepolo. Here, the mullioned windows shone. Somewhere within, an orchestra was playing.
His passenger turned her face to the light, and the gondolier was struck by her dark-haired beauty. Why was such a woman, dressed so finely, travelling alone at this hour?
There could be only one answer.
An assignation.
Drawing level with the ombre-colored walls, he brought them close. The gondola rocked as she stood, and he offered his hand to aid her step into the arched portal.
Behind her mask, eyes of mesmerizing green which matched the hue of her gown conveyed thanks.
Once inside the woman made haste, climbing to the grand hall of the palazzo where a footman took her cloak, departing with it.
The gilded ceiling soared above, ornately decorated with scenes of Venetian life and lit by a monumental chandelier of hand-blown glass, each crystal droplet sparkling. To her left, past marble columns, was the entranceway to the ballroom. The murmur of conversation filtered through, from a sea of half-obscured faces, the wearers adorned in rich brocades and bobbing feathers, silks and jewels.
But her interest lay not in the decadent delights of the masquerade. Tonight, she came with an objective far more vital.
The staircase to the upper apartments was sited at the far end of the hall. It was there she must go, to seek her prize. With a last glance at the revelers, she made her way toward the broad flight of steps.
However, she’d barely half-crossed the hall when a lurching figure, broad in the shoulder, appeared from a small doorway to her right—dressed as a gaudy version of the famous ‘Hunchback’ of Paris fame. Seeing her, he stopped and made a courtly bow, waiting for her to pass ahead.
It would not do.
As unassuming as the man appeared, she did not wish to be observed making her way upstairs.
Smiling, she called to him. “Signore, vuole ballare con me?”She indicated the ballroom. If he would but follow her, and could be persuaded into a few moments of dancing, she might then rid herself of him and continue on her way.
Though he hesitated, he returned her smile and offered his arm, escorting her through. At once, they were plunged into the crowd, amid shrieks and laughter. There was a circular dance of sorts, though the inebriation of the partygoers was such that there seemed no rhyme or reason to their movements. She lost hold of her partner, her last sight of him being his frowning face, dark eyes glinting behind the grey and black of his mask.
All well and good.
As he was carried away, she pushed back toward the exit. The hall was an oasis of calm in comparison. Without wasting a moment, she ran for the stairs, taking them as quickly as her gown would allow. Making haste along the carpeted passageway, she reached the portico at the end. There, a small vestibule led through to a heavy wooden door.
She dropped to her knees, placing her eye to the keyhole. If some maid were there, or the Contessa herself—entertaining some lover, perhaps—there would be no alternative but to turn back. To her relief she saw no movement; nor did voices carry from within. Sliding two pins from her hair, she made short work of the mechanism and entered the room.
This was the place in which the Contessa entertained. The shutters had not been closed on the windows, allowing the silvered moonlight to reveal a sumptuously appointed sitting room—as she’d been led to expect. The Contessa’s sleeping chamber was part of the adjoining suite. Hurrying over, she found the connecting door unlocked.
Opening it, she gave a start, for the opposing wall featured a mirror of great size, and she was met by her own reflection looking back at her through the gloom.
Hold your nerve!
Softly, she closed the door behind her.
Here, the maid had been more meticulous, drawing the curtains loosely. There was a lamp upon the table to her right but dare she light it?
Perhaps not.
With the curtains parted a fraction, there would be enough light by which to see, and she hoped not to be here long.
The chamber was much as one would expect, dominated by the bed. Though it was too opulently lavish for her own taste, it was undeniably grand—a piece fit for one of the most powerful families in all Venice. Had circumstance been different, a wicked tumble upon its coverlet would have amused her no end, disturbing the prettily arranged cushions.
