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A Romantic Georgian Murder Mystery: the year is 1800: Naples & Venice.
Amidst a gathering of nobility and gentry a daring jewel theft occurs. A young naval lieutenant suggests the notorious Venetian jewel thief could well be a woman, but a beautiful Russian countess scoffs at his suggestion albeit in coquettish manner. Determined to unmask the identity of the thief, at the same time intrigued by the countess, Lt Herne covertly follows her around Naples: part protective gesture and part curiosity. But where the countess treads murders occur with frequency and she suddenly takes flight to Venice.
Ordered to the Adriatic on naval business Herne drops anchor in Venice. Tempted ashore by Carnivale a second encounter with the countess proves fatal for both. Madly in love they indulge in pleasurable pursuits but become embroiled in the mysterious death of a Russian count, and Therese feels duty bound to return to St Petersburg. Herne awaits her promised return to no avail. Three years later and back in England he discovers the countess on his doorstep, and wonders if he dare let his heart rule his head again? Equally, Therese fears a secret is best kept secret but Herne asks a potent question and she cannot lie for the truth is staring him in the face!
Amidst a gathering of nobility and gentry a daring jewel theft occurs. A young naval lieutenant suggests the notorious Venetian jewel thief could well be a woman, but a beautiful Russian countess scoffs at his suggestion albeit in coquettish manner. Determined to unmask the identity of the thief, at the same time intrigued by the countess, Lt Herne covertly follows her around Naples: part protective gesture and part curiosity. But where the countess treads murders occur with frequency and she suddenly takes flight to Venice.
Ordered to the Adriatic on naval business Herne drops anchor in Venice. Tempted ashore by Carnivale a second encounter with the countess proves fatal for both. Madly in love they indulge in pleasurable pursuits but become embroiled in the mysterious death of a Russian count, and Therese feels duty bound to return to St Petersburg. Herne awaits her promised return to no avail. Three years later and back in England he discovers the countess on his doorstep, and wonders if he dare let his heart rule his head again? Equally, Therese fears a secret is best kept secret but Herne asks a potent question and she cannot lie for the truth is staring him in the face!
Is Therese the Notorious Venetian Jewel Thief?
The necklace stolen from within a crowded salon.
The steps in Naples, which lead up to the convent.
The hero's naval warship moored in Venice
Therese' home in Venice - Right Hand Side.
Middle Combe House - Commander Herne's abode in Dorset - England
Venetian
Encounter.
Copyright © Francine Howarth
Black
Velvet Books
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by
means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without
prior consent of the author.
Chapter One
~
Naples: 1800 – The English Emissary’s Residence
~
The night was young,
chandeliers glittered overhead and numerous persons of note dallied beneath in
peacock coloured glory. There were groups of mature ladies in whispered
discourse here and there, and men of military disposition engaged in earnest
talk of war and past battles fought. The odd raucous jibe escaped their number,
and stifled flirty giggles too from amidst a mixed group of young ladies
standing nearby.
The hosts’ of the evening were equally
engrossed in deep conversation with Admiral Lord Nelson, while men of noble
countenance including the Count of Amalfi had gathered around a bevy of
beauties. Quite glad to escape what to all intents and purposes was the marital
hunting group, Therese Countess Roscoff, in her own estimation, had landed an
intriguing companion, or had Lt Herne landed her?
She couldn’t be sure how they had drifted
to a quiet corner, nor recalled when exactly they were introduced to one
another. But he was amusing to be with albeit seemingly distracted for the
moment by a curious sight unfolding before them.
“Now that’s a ménage à trios, if ever I saw
one,” said Lieutenant Herne, a mere whisper.
“You’re positively indecent,”
she said, glancing his way. “I take it you are somewhat familiar with such.”
“And you are not?” came the
reply, his eyes not for one moment leaving that of the trio before them.
“Hateful man,” she said, a
hasty slap to his shoulder with folded fan. “I shall have you . . .”
He swung round alarmingly fast,
his chestnut eyes laughing, mocking, and his face creasing to broad grin, as he
said, “I meant, have you not noticed a certain familiarity erring
intimacy between the beautiful couple and the old goat?”
“Oh,” So he had not
assumed she, Countess Roscoff, keened engagement in scandalous pursuits, though
what a shock it might be if the truth about her became known. “Is it not simply
that of good friends betwixt the threesome, though a tad overly familiar?”
He chuckled. “Ha, not as
innocent in thought as you would have me believe, eh?”
She flicked her fan open and
raised it to shield an erubescent glow to her cheeks, though purposefully
coquettish in manner, for Lieutenant Herne in his naval uniform certainly cut a
dash with the best of the men present despite a knife-edged scar to his right cheek.
“Are you aware your hair tied back in a blue ribbon bow affords a pleasing
image to the female eye, which implies a buccaneer spirit beneath your pristine
appearance.”
“Change the subject all you
like, and hide behind your fan dear Countess, but I can read those china blues
of yours as well as any man familiar with warning of storms ahead.”
“Oh, and what pray do my eyes
reveal to you?”
He cocked his head
infuriatingly to one side and deployed long fingers to his chin, his expression
one of deep consideration and air of delight. “Now that’s asking a lot of a man
with a buccaneer spirit, and I am not sure I should answer in such a public
place.”
“Pray do not hold back, for I
wish to know if you are indeed able to read my thoughts.” His tanned rather
fetching godlike features seemed to freeze, though a discernable pulsing twitch
to right jaw erupted at the tip of his scar. Perhaps he was not used to
forthrightness from a lady. “Well?”
“All right, if you are
sure.”
“Absolute sure.” Chin held
high, biting her lip to prevent a smile, she withstood the challenge of his
eyes roving over hers searching for sign of weakening under stress, which was
utterly unbearable, decidedly frustrating and temptingly delicious. “Go on,
please do.”
“From the moment you entered
the room I perceived noted interest in the affairs of the beautiful couple
before us, and indeed sensed a little sympathy bestowed toward Lord Hamilton,
the cuckolded husband. At the same time you were pondering the why and
wherefore of such a marriage. You think my previous comment was a tad coarse,
though somewhat honest in observation.” Herne smiled, a captivating smile. “At
this very moment you are deliberating my past life, and whether I may have
indulged in a similar assignation.”
“You did not deny such,” she said, more abruptly than sensible and too
late to recant.
“Ah hah, so I am right
in my assumption, you are a one-man woman.”
She laughed. If only he knew
what had really attracted her eyes to the trio, astonishment would be etched
upon his visage. It was best if true reason for attendance at the residency
never came to light, and to that aim, she said, “In the latter you are
mistaken. I have no inclination whatsoever to delve into your past.”
“I beg to differ, and the
former caused a flush to your cheeks.” He leaned closer, lowered his voice to a
whisper. “Did you not question Lady Hamilton as to my past, and whether I had a
wife at home?”
Damn him, damn him to hell
and back for causing a second flush to cheeks.
“I asked the very same of
Colonel Barton.”
“Fatty Barton?” he said,
clearly taken aback.
“I think him a fine officer, and
highly respectful of young ladies, unlike some men I can think of within this
very room. His red tunic is very fetching, and his legs set him solid to deck
when at sea I shouldn’t wonder.”
He leaned closer still, mouth
almost brushing her ear. “Liar,” his whispered rebuke. “I have it on
good authority, you said yon Royal Marine officer was utterly gross in manner
and drools when lusting after young flesh.”
As he backed away their eyes
met and clashed in combat, and his of such a teasing manner as to necessitate
rapid fluttering of fan to cool her cheeks and calm her fast beating heart. It
was nothing short of a stand off, each attracted to the other, but she would
not engage further, such would be folly.
“My jewels, my beautiful
jewels,” came a scream of anguish and despair, which broke the moment, a
decidedly awkward moment in time. “My necklace. It has gone. Stolen from around
my very neck,” declared a woman of mature years and rotund stature. “Diamonds
and rubies, no less.”
“How could that be?” said
another, rushing forward to offer condolences, the lady’s loss of valuables a
tragedy.
Several more ladies gathered
around, and Emma Lady Hamilton struggled to make her way through an
ever-amassing throng of guests, hers and Lord Hamilton’s guests. “When did it
go missing?” asked Emma, much concern essayed to the woman, now blubbering with
tears streaming.
Therese moved closer, intrigued
by it all and a little amused. She had hoped the disturbance would afford the
chance to escape Lt Herne’s attentions and observations, but she sensed a
presence behind and knew it to be him before he said in hushed whisper,
“That’ll teach her to canoodle with a young stranger in dark corners.”
“Stranger?”
“Some gigolo and young enough
to be her son.”
Her heart dived. “You witnessed
the pair?”
“I did, and dare say the
vagabond is the very same notorious Venetian thief who became the topic of
conversation over supper last evening. In my estimation a trip from Venice to
Naples has proved profitable this night, as on previous nights from within the
grand social whirl of Naples.”
“How positively daring to steal
away a necklace when the residency is overflowing with guests.”
She sensed his eyes upon her,
and dared not reciprocate as he said, “Similar occurred in Vienna a year past,
if the stories are to be believed. And numerous jewel thefts have occurred the
last three seasons of the Venice Carnivale.”
“Talked about? A Venetian
thief?”
“You seem somewhat alarmed,
Countess.”
“Only, in as much I have upon my
person a very valuable pendant.”
“What pendant?”
She thrust her hand to throat,
a sigh of relief escaping. “That was such a cruel trick to play.” Heart at odds
with head, Lt Herne’s daring was slipping beneath her shield, and she couldn’t
let that happen. “Who is this thief so talked of? I have not heard mention of
him before. A Venetian you say?”
“Him? Who is to say the thief
is a man?”
“But you said . . .Oh, I see .
. .”
He chuckled, his oh so husky
deep in the throat chuckle, his gaze having drifted to the distressed lady now
besieged within a sea of faces. A smile flickered on Lt Herne’s face. “Can we be
absolute sure yon page attending to the victim of loss, is not a girl?”
“Rosy cheeked, quite pretty for
a boy, but a boy nonetheless,” she said, confident in her judgement of gender.
He laughed. “One glance is
sufficient to claim the page a boy?”
His mocking tone gave rise to wariness. Perhaps Lt Herne was more astute
than she’d given him credit for. “If, as you are suggesting, this notorious
jewel thief is a woman, are you of mind she masquerades as a man?”
Seeming unwilling to avert his
eyes from the bevy of women gathered about the victim of theft and that of the
host Lady Hamilton, he said, “Quite possible, do you not agree?”
She almost laughed. “The very
thought is most amusing, but unlikely.”
He swung round again, hands
behind his back as though standing commandingly on the quarterdeck of his ship,
those damn delectable eyes levelling on hers: searching, but for what?
“Come dear lady, I can see why
a man might indulge in a little amour to afford the chance of relieving a
salacious lady of her valuables, but where would a man hide his booty and the
lady unsuspecting of any thing untoward thereafter?”
“A pocket. Where else?”
If only she could read his
thoughts, instead she centred attention upon his animated kissable mouth to evade
eye contact.
“True, but if the man had an
accomplice, a lady . . .”
“Accomplice?” she said,
breath catching in her throat. “Would such not appear rather obvious?”
“I think not. The victim and her
young admirer happened to be in a darkened corner, and I passed by unnoticed.”
“Yes, but an accomplice would
have to make contact with the thief.”
“In passing, admittedly, but I
swear the very devil could have brushed past unnoticed, for the lady was
utterly enamoured by the young man’s attentions.”
“You have pockets,” she
charged, determined to throw him into the frame of suspicion. “And men of
military disposition are swift and slick in movement, are they not?”
“Indeed, and should you care to
afford a quick glance at gentlemen within this room, save those in military
dress, you will see few have pockets upon their silk coats, their kerchiefs
tucked to sleeve.” He chuckled, that oh so husky chuckle again, which caused a
frisson of pleasure to ripple down her spine. “A lady on the other hand . . .”
His eyes drifted to the cleft of her breasts. “Yes, a lady could slip a
necklace down into her bodice and no one any the wiser.”
She sensed her cheeks aflame,
his eyes boring into hers and it was time to change the subject, but it was
changed for her. Lady Hamilton called to her, and she slipped away from Lt
Herne. “Therese, darling, would you do me a great favour? Would you be so good
as to take Mrs. FitzroyPalmer up to the second floor, along with her page? I’ll
join with you, directly, as soon as I’ve made apology to our most esteemed
guest Horatio Viscount Nelson.”
As it happened, the esteemed
gentleman came forth, and said, “Your ladyship, William has instructed the
doors to be closed and is at this very moment in the process of checking the
guest list. No one shall be allowed exit until every guest is accounted for.”
Emma smiled her eyes fixated on
Nelson, and oh dear, Lt Herne it seemed had guessed right, for there was
sincere sense of intimacy between Lord Nelson and Lady Hamilton: Emma’s
response quite telling. “Am I to presume it was at your suggestion the doors
were to be closed?”
“It seemed eminently sensible
in the circumstance of valuable jewels stolen from under our very noses,’ said
Nelson, his eyes not leaving Emma’s. “It is the practise aboard ship for a
lockdown if theft of Admiralty property occurs.”
“I thank you most
affectionately,” said Emma, her face all flushed eyes sparkling. “What would we
do without you?”
Therese clutched Mrs.
FitzroyPalmer’s elbow. “Come dear lady, it seems their lordship’s have taken
command, and perchance your jewels will come to light.”
The lady continued sobbing
whilst being led away, and Therese glanced around for sight of Lt Herne, but
he’d vanished. As they passed through to the vast outer salon leading to the
staircase she spied Lord William in conversation with Lt Herne and other naval
officers.
Indeed, Lt Herne was correct,
she did feel a little sorry for William Lord Hamilton. It was all very well for
a man of great age to be in possession of a beautiful young wife, but one young
enough to be his daughter was a risqué proposition. As British Envoy to Naples
and state business to conduct, Lord William had many responsibilities, but
surely not so blind as to be unaware of simmering attraction between Emma and
Horatio? Yet, his lordship seemed to bestow great affections upon Nelson, a
strange relationship having developed.
She cast another fleeting
glance at Lt Herne, the man astute beyond words. Best avoided, Therese, best
avoided.
Whilst ascending the staircase
opportunity to catch his every movement became too tempting and she glanced
down at him. She instantly wished she had not, for he glanced upward. Their
eyes collided, and despite the distance between them it felt akin to a silent
caress. She could not, must not let such happen again. She must avoid Lt Herne,
at all costs.
Mrs. FitzroyPalmer ceased
blubbering, and said, “What a foolish, foolish thing to do. What ever possessed
me to think such a delectable creature as that young man could be any thing
other than a rogue?”
“It happens to all of us,” said
Therese, concern hopefully etched upon her face and sufficiently convincing.
“Such a beautiful necklace, too.”
“Genuine, Therese, real rubies
and diamonds, not a glass stone amongst ‘em.”
“I had not thought otherwise.”
Mrs FitzroyPalmer cast a
tear-laden glance her way. “That’s a pretty pendant you’re wearing, too, and
modest with it.”
“Of sentimental value, and
thank heaven unlikely to attract the eye of a jewel thief.”
“Sentimental value is sometimes
greater than monetary worth, and if I am not mistaken a tiger eye. Very rare
amber, indeed.”
“I confess I am not in the
least given to diamonds and precious coloured stones, I fear I might lose them
or have them stolen.”
Mrs. FitzroyPalmer laughed:
tears ebbed. “Ah well, I liked the necklace well enough, but I feel sure Mr.
FitzroyPalmer, dear Wesley, will replace it with one equally as beautiful. What
else does he have to squander his money on but I?”
“Oh, then there’s a Mr . . .”
“Yes, I know what you’re
thinking,” said Mrs. FitzroyPalmer, as both stepped onto the gallery above
stairs. “Why then would a woman of my years be playing footsy with a young
man?”
“Well, I wouldn’t presume to
pass . . .”
“Perhaps not judge me, but
think it utter madness of older woman besotted by youth and vigour. And, and by
jove that young man was well endowed.”
“You mean he . . .?”
Mrs. FitzroyPalmer giggled. “Oh
dear girl, I am always wont to know what I have to look forward to.” The lady
giggled, actually giggled. “Don’t look so surprised, I am a woman of the world,
and not beyond a little pleasure of the vigorous variety.” Therese drew breath,
a band as though tightening across her breasts whilst Mrs. FitzroyPalmer
giggled again. “I do believe I’ve shocked you.”
“No, not at all, but I think I
may have eaten something that hasn’t agreed with me. I feel quite sick.”
“To the closet girl, to the
closet,” urged Mrs FitzroyPalmer, pushing her along from behind. “There, there
now,” she said, snatching the screen aside, “head over the pot.”
She had not been sick in a long
while, and to wretch was mortifying, more so as Mrs FitzroyPalmer’s page held
forth a glass of wine. “It’ll take the taste away, Countess, ‘twill that.”
To say thank you was an effort,
and worse, the pair hovered in expectation of further eruptions. Thankfully
such did not occur, and her stomach levelled out, her thoughts too. Though Mrs.
FitzroyPalmer’s expression implied sense of knowing, though quite wrong in her
thinking.
“No, no, I am not with child.”
“Ah, so food the cause then, or
that dreadful wine at the supper table.”
She dared not reveal what had
caused the sudden repulsive eruption. “Perhaps the latter.”
“How long is it now since . .
.well, your husband’s death?”
“Five, five years.”
“I so remember Valentine . . .
Such a vibrant young man, excellent horseman and good dancer. Yes, yes, indeed,
Valentine Roscoff, the man many young women sought to ensnare.” Mrs.
FitzroyPalmer snorted. “Strong thighs on him, too, and excellent lover in the
buff I shouldn’t wonder.”
“Killed by the very thing he
loved above all else . . . his damn horses.”
“Oh deary me,” said Mrs
FitzroyPalmer, seating her ample proportions to a chaise. “Not the loving
husband you’d hoped for, then?”
Not unaware of Mrs.
FitzroyPalmer’s coarseness and pleasure seeking ways, it was a little
disconcerting to have someone talk of Valetin in that way, and annoying when
people pronounced his name wrongly. She glanced away, her eyes centred on the
door praying Emma would appear.
“Valetin was extremely loving
in his own way, but his heart lay with his horses.” She turned to face her
charge, which was a little ironic in that Mrs. FitzroyPalmer had taken charge
of her instead. “I think he thought of me as a mere trophy to his manliness.”
“Yes, makes sense. He was a man
of great beauty and plagued by young ladies, and because of it no doubt eager
to wed and save himself the embarrassment of being hunted by ambitious mothers
and unsuitable daughters thrust under his nose.” Mrs. FitzroyPalmer’s overly
powdered plump face had begun to craze due to spilt tears, her expression
warmer, tender even, in a motherly way. “Sit down.” She furthered, patting the
chaise. “You miss him, I can tell.”
“I do and I don’t.” She sat
down, the splendour of the ornate red sitting room having passed them by as
topic of conversation. “I did love him. In fact thought I could never fall out
of love with him, until we went to St. Petersburg. Once there I barely set eyes
upon him. He was up and gone before I awakened and rarely returned until I had
fallen asleep.”
“Where did he go?”
“To pay court to Catherine. He
was her master of the horse, and court duties prevailed.”
“And the lady herself an eye
for a fine stallion, if we are to believe many things essayed of the woman.
“I did wonder myself at first,
if Valetin and the Empress were lovers, but on hearing from others of her
exploits, it seemed he was far from her chosen one. She was after all old
enough to be his mother at that time, and died herself a year later.”
“Then why long absences from
the marital bed?” Mrs FitzroyPalmer shifted awkward, less about posture than
perhaps discomfort at inner thoughts. “If I am still able at seventy years and
a young stud is willing I’ll not turn him away.”
“Oh Valetin came to my bed, but
always so late and he was up and away by dawn.”
“And you feigned sleep, because
you mistrusted him.”
“Perhaps, a little, and then it
became habitual. I felt I no longer knew him.”
“But the marriage was
consummated, was it not?”
“Oh yes, initially.”
“Initially,” exclaimed
Mrs. FitzroyPalmer. “Fool, utter fool. What kind of man leaves his wife
wanton and wonting in the affections stakes? Good God, girl, did you not
consider taking a lover?”
“I loved Valetin then, but later
I thought his abandonment of moi was perhaps because I had not fallen with
child as quickly as hoped for.”
“Lordy lordy, my husband and I
indulged ourselves for three years of bliss before the first bairn made itself
known to us. And damn the little hides that followed, for I swear a mere look
of desire passing between us became our downfall and another on the way before
the year was out. Five of the devils on the trot and all boys at that.” Mrs.
FitzroyPalmer, laughed, winked. “And two going spare if you fancy your
chances.”
Therese could not help but
smile, a burning question on the tip of her tongue, and Mrs. FitzroyPalmer
obliged without question, and not a bashful glow to cheeks or hint of
discomfort. “Alas, Mr. FitzroyPalmer has developed a little problem on the
lower deck, and not as able in keeping me satisfied. He’s quite sweet about my
fancies, for he knows I love him most dear.”
“How sad.” What else could she
say?
“It is not uncommon, you know,
and although Emma loves William most dear and he adoring of her, she does have
a sparkle in eye not seen in a long while. And mark my words, young Nelson has
Emma within his sights, if not his grasp as yet.”
It was wise to hold her tongue
and refrain from mention of Lt Herne’s observations, and she was glad she had,
for the door opened and Emma Lady Hamilton swept into the room, ravishing in
silk lavender coloured gown dotted with miniscule white lilies.
“Dearest May,” she said,
naturally addressing Mrs. FitzroyPalmer whose gown clashed violently with
Emma’s: being of gold and black stripes and blace lace frills adorning a
shockingly low neckline. “I am so sorry but it seems the thief has escaped
detection. I cannot for the life of me understand any of this. I am absolute
sure in mind a guest would not indulge such roguery.”
Mrs. FitzroyPalmer bestowed a
smile upon Emma, and sighed deeply. “As I said to Therese, here . . .My darling
husband will replace it with something equally beautiful.” She then puckered
her nose. “I am, after all, his most treasured possession.”
“You are exceedingly gracious
in your loss,” said Emma, expression one of amusement blending with incredulity
at Mrs FitzroyPalmer’s declaration as her husband’s most treasured possession.
“Well, if you’re sure there’s nothing more I can do, I shall return below. It
is vital I try to make amends to those whom thought William and I were accusing
them of theft.”
“Why would they think that?”
“Horatio . . . I mean Lord
Nelson suggested the doors be closed and all guests then prevented from taking
leave of the residency. It was thought we might have had an uninvited guest,
and perhaps that person would then be discovered.”
“Hmm, I wouldn’t have put it
past one or two of the invited guests to have robbed me given the chance. And
that fine looking Neapolitan in gold breeches made mention of the necklace, his
eyes constant in focus upon it, and I have it on good authority he’s somewhat
asset rich and cash poor.”
“Oh no, not Count Almafi,” said
Emma, most defensive of the man. “He’s too much of a gentleman and richer than
he wishes known to a soul. Rather wise don’t you think? He is after all on the
hunt for a wife. Although he wishes to engage in a love match, he . . .”
“Yes, yes,” said Mrs.
FitzroyPalmer, dismissively, “wise man in seeking a wife to love him for him
not his wealth.”
Seeming dismissed by Mrs.
FitzroyPalmer’s outburst, Emma said, “I shall take my leave now, but you must
rest a little while longer. You’ve had a most terrible shock.”
Therese snatched the
opportunity to escape as well. “As the gathering seems to have reached its
close, I think I’ll retire to my chamber.”
Mrs. FitzroyPalmer waved them
away. “Go, go, the pair of you. I have Juno for company, and shall away to my
bed soon enough after a tipple of brandy.”
Once the page had closed the
door, Emma said in a whisper, “Sleep well, and sweet dreams. I shall see you at
dinner tomorrow, for I am not given to rising early.”
Whilst watching Emma flee, Lt
Herne leapt to mind.
No, no, no. Put him from your thoughts, Therese.
She too
fled, straight to her guest chamber.