A Chance Encounter (St. John Series Book 10) Page 11

  But tonight, would be different. A deep breath left Madelena as she viewed her reflection in the mirror. She had worked for over an hour, perfecting her hair and make-up. She had to look more attractive than any woman at Carnival. She had to capture the attention of Oliver and somehow manage to get him to take her to his bed. The problem was, she had no idea how. She had never had to try to work her wiles on a man before. Men had never been in her plan for life. She simply wanted to live independently and make her baskets. She never wanted a man to dictate her life. And now she found that her independent nature was going to be her downfall. Why had she not paid attention when Angela was flirting with men? Angela knew how to flirt. She had to, for she certainly would not capture a man with her personality.

  Adjusting a ringlet at the base of her head, she leaned closer to the mirror to make certain that the kohl she had lined her eyes with was in place and not too thick. She wanted to look attractive, not like a tart. Tonight, would be the night she would allow Oliver to take her to his bed. It had to be. Giving one last pinch to her cheeks to make them rosier, she nodded.

  “This is as good as I can get,” she mumbled to herself. Turning, she picked up her mask and left her room.

  Angela was just below her on the steps. Sandra had spared no expense on Angela’s dress. It was the finest pink silk money could buy. The ruffles upon the skirt held numerous beads, and the mask Angela was holding in her gloved hand was made of fluffy white feathers.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Angela turned and watched Madelena as she descended the steps. The expression on Angela’s face was one Madelena wished could be frozen in time. It was a look of shock and awe. A look stating that Madelena’s dress was more beautiful than Angela’s, and for once in her lifetime, Madelena had something better than her sister.

  Angela must have realized she was looking at Madelena with jealousy for her expression suddenly changed to contempt.

  “You look hideous,” Angela sneered. “I have never seen a more ridiculous attire in all my life! This is Carnival, not the circus.”

  Madelena allowed the insult to slide from her spine. “Yet, Papa personally selected my dress, whereas he could care less about yours.” She knew it was childish to insult her sister in such a fashion, but presently, she did not care. She was angry at her entire family, but if using her father’s love for her would anger her sister further, then she would use it to her advantage—despite her anger at him.

  “Well, it's still hideous. What pattern is that? A buffoon?”

  “It’s a peahen, you ninny! But I wouldn’t expect someone as uneducated as you to know. All you worry about is finding a beau and not broadening your mind.”

  “How dare you!” Angela hissed. “You are a vile, evil creature. How could we possibly be twins? The midwife must have switched my true sister at birth. That is the only logical explanation. No one as uneducated and ill-tempered as you could ever be my sister.”

  “Mayhap, we are not sisters at all. Maybe I am an imposter come to ruin your life. That is what both you and Mama think. You all think that I ruin every chance you have at marriage when in truth it is you and your viperous tongue. Now get out of my way. I do not want your sour disposition to ruin what is left of my evening.”

  Madelena breezed past her twin, a smug and confident tilt to her chin. She would not allow Angela to ruin her plan. She had to find Oliver, and bickering with her idiotic sister would only delay her rendezvous.

  Madelena hastily made her way out the front door and past the gate before she heard her mother shout at her to return—a command she would not follow. She had no plan in doing as her mother bade this time. This time she had a mission of her own. A mission to lose her virginity and that plan entailed her being able to find Oliver again.

  She made her way through the crowded streets of Rome to Signore Henshaw’s home. She arrived just in time to see Oliver exit the house. He was so handsome in his black attire, the same he had worn each day. She knew it was foolish to follow him. Yet, it was part of the intrigue of Carnival. She never promised him that they would meet. She would only smile coyly and bat her lashes when he asked.

  He weaved his way through the streets. Madelena struggled to keep up with him. To her dismay, he soon disappeared in the crush of people. She jumped to peer over the heads to no avail. It was as though he had vanished. Damn! How could he have disappeared so quickly? It's not like he didn’t stand out.

  “Where did he go?” she mumbled to herself. “How did I lose him? I mean it's not like there are other tall red-haired men here.”

  Her eyes took in each man present. All she could see was brown and black hair, no red.

  “Dammit,” she grumbled. “Now what?”

  “You can tell me where you found that dress, that’s what.”

  Madelena whirled around to spy Mae and Maude. A smile pulled her lips.

  “How did you find me?”

  “How could I not?” Mae said, looking around. “You are the most stunning woman here. I truly hope that Stephano Mortilini does not see you or my chances of claiming him for my own are gone”—she snapped her fingers—“just like that.”

  “Oh, Mae. Don’t be silly,” Madelena protested.

  “She is, isn’t she,” Maude interjected. “She spent the majority of last evening in Signore Mortilini’s company.” A vindictive smile came to the older woman. “And that did not sit well with your mother or sister.”

  An unladylike snort left Madelena. “Good.”

  “You simply must meet him though,” Mae said. “You would see why I am so infatuated with him. He is tall and broad and dark and handsome and tall.”

  “You’re repeating yourself, Mae.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m in love!” Mae exclaimed, clasping her hands and bring them to her chest.

  “Love? You only just met the man!”

  Mae smiled sheepishly. “A girl can dream, can’t she?”

  Maude interrupted. “No more talk of marriage to men you just met. It is Carnival. Let us celebrate before the sun sets.”

  Mae leaned in to whisper to Madelena. “Momma doesn’t like being out after dark. She says nothing good comes from the darkness and no one of good moral standing would dare be out after dark during Carnival. She fears for my virtue.”

  “And Madelena’s as well,” Maude spoke. “I do not like leaving you to your vices so near dusk. I felt uneasy doing such.”

  Madelena’s heart rate increased. She could not allow Maude’s good intentions to interfere with her plan. “Thank you for your concern, but I am to meet Papa later this evening.”

  “That’s what you have said for the past four nights. Are you really meeting your father, or is that just a tale fabricated so you can have a bit of fun?” The doubt was obvious in Maude’s voice.

  “Yes.” Madelena’s eyes grew wide as she continued her lie, her words coming out fast. “At the fountain. Near his office. We are to have dinner. We have had dinner. Each night. Honestly.”

  “Then why do you act as if you have something else planned?”

  “Oh, Momma!” Mae turned to face her mother. “Can’t you see! She is distraught. You heard her mother. Signora Russo has arranged a marriage for Madelena to Signore Drakos. Can’t you see why she is so jittery? These are her last days of freedom and her last time to experience Carnival. Allow her to enjoy her time before she is carted away from us to Greece.”

  Madelena rolled her eyes. Leave it to Mae to remind her of something she did not want to remember.

  “You are correct,” Maude said. “Madelena needs to have a good time before she weds.” Maude extended her hand to Madelena.

  Madelena placed her hand in Maude’s. The older woman gave a gentle squeeze.

  “I know how dreadful arranged marriages can be. My first marriage was arranged and thankfully ended after a week. My husband suddenly died to my greatest relief. He was not kind. I can sympathize with you on the fear. But do not fret. Many have had arranged marriages that turn
ed into happy ones. Look at your parents.”

  Madelena forced a smile to her lips. If only outsiders knew how much her parents despised each other, they would have different opinions on arranged marriages. At night she could hear them bicker. Their words were muffled by the walls, but the tone was unmistakable.

  “Yes,” Madelena replied.

  “No more talk of marriage. You said so yourself,” Mae said, pulling Madelena forward. “Come. Let us celebrate and dance until we can no longer move, and then we will dance some more.”

  Madelena glanced around the square but did not spot Oliver. She looked back at Mae and nodded. Perhaps she could find him tomorrow.

  For the remainder of the afternoon Mae, Maude, and Madelena enjoyed the festivities of Carnival from plays to acrobats to jugglers. Madelena laughed and drank and danced to the point that she was dizzy. As the sun began to set, Maude reminded her she was to meet Signore Russo. Madelena had nearly forgotten her lie.

  “Thank you for the reminder,” Madelena spoke. “I was having such a grand time that I had forgotten.”

  “We will walk you to your father,” Maude said.

  “No!” Madelena said.

  Maude’s brows rose to her hairline.

  “I mean, you take Mae home and protect her. Everyone here knows who my father is and the outcome should they do anything inappropriate towards me. I am perfectly safe here.”

  “Madelena, I am not certain.”

  “I will be fine. The sun is still up, but if you keep belaboring the issue, it will be well past dark by the time I find my father.” Madelena plastered a smile to her face hoping it would help sway Maude.

  Maude gave a curt nod. “Very well. But if you cannot find him, you go straight home. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Madelena watched Mae and Maude leave. She made her way to the Fountain of the Four Rivers. She had met Oliver here for the past three nights. Why would tonight be any different? Sitting down upon the ledge, she gazed up at the statues.

  “Would you care for another dip in the waters?”

  Madelena turned and smiled. “Only if you join me.”

  Oliver tossed his head back and laughed. “I do enjoy your spirit.”

  “I am glad I am entertaining.”

  “Speaking of entertaining, what revelry do you have planned for us this evening?”

  Singing in the distance captured her attention, and a mischievous glint came to her eyes. “Do you sing?”

  “Heavens, no.”

  “Good.”

  She took his hand and dragged him to the area, laughing all the way. The song was hard for Oliver to understand. He spoke Italian well, but the pace of the song was too fast for him. Madelena, on the other hand, knew the words. It was an energetic song that caused her to lose her breath and stop several times. Her lips moved rapidly as she sang, and several times she sputtered when she lost pace. Oliver laughed. She motioned for him to join her. He tried—the keyword being tried.

  His words were slower than the rest, and many times the others would laugh at his attempt. Yet he kept trying. Madelena’s laughter surrounded him, and he gave her a boyish grin.

  “You sing wonderfully,” Madelena said, as they left the group. “I thought you said you couldn’t sing.”

  “I never said that. I simply said I don’t.”

  “You should do so more often. You have a beautiful voice. A nice, deep, soothing tone.”

  “Thank you. Yet my light does not compare to yours. You should sing more often.”

  “How do you know that I don’t?”

  “Do you?”

  “I do. I sing when I make my baskets. I sing to Esmerelda and to Ramus and Eula.”

  “Who?”

  “My chicken and goats.”

  “You sing to your livestock?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “I do. Esmerelda likes happy tunes. Ramus and Eula like them all.”

  “And how do you know?”

  “They have never told me differently,” Madelena replied.

  Oliver laughed and shook his head.

  Madelena shrugged coyly and began to walk. They passed a man painting. The man thrust his brush at Oliver.

  “Care to try, signore?!”

  Oliver held out his hand. “No.”

  “Oh, come now!” Madelena protested. “Let us see your artistic side.”

  “Fine. But do not say I did not warn you.” Oliver took the brush. Turning his head to his side, he thrust his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and took the brush to canvas. After several minutes, he spoke, “Voilà! My creation”

  Crinkling her nose, she could not control her laughter. “That is hideous!”

  “You wound me, my lady. Here I thought it was a wonderful likeness of you.”

  “Me?” Madelena repeated, looking at the display of colors upon the canvas. It nowhere resembled her. It nowhere resembled a human. “I thought you were painting…well…I don’t know what you’ve painted, but it certainly is not me.”

  A confused look came to Oliver. “Oh, I don’t know.” He turned his head and held his hands out in front of him, joining the index and thumbs of his hands, forming a square. “If perhaps you were drunk enough and in the right light—”

  The painter interjected, “Signore! This no more resembles the beautiful woman with you than it does my donkey! Perhaps it is abstract?” The artist’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, oh! That is it! The color is the woman. Look at the beautiful contrasts you have used in varying lines to represent her curves. The subtle tones to represent her kindness and the vibrant reds to represent her passion! I do believe you have represented your muse perfectly, signore!”

  Oliver and Madelena looked at each other and burst out into laughter.

  “Perhaps I simply cannot paint,” Oliver said.

  The man pulled his lower lip up and crinkled his chin, “Perhaps. Now, farewell, my friend!” The painter left, taking Oliver’s artwork with him.

  “He stole my painting,” Oliver said, trying to hide his humor.

  “I highly doubt he will get any money from it.”

  Oliver’s hand came to his chest. “You wound me again, Maddie. Here I thought I was a wonderful artist.”

  “Flowers!” a man shouted right in Oliver’s ear, causing Oliver to rub it. “Flowers! You need to buy your beautiful lady some beautiful flowers.”

  “If you keep yelling in my ears, I’ll put those flowers somewhere no one will buy them.”

  “Signore!” the man said. “I apologize.” His words were slurred as he held out a bouquet of daisies. “But your lady needs flowers.”

  Oliver looked between the man and Madelena. “You expect me to purchase her a common daisy?” He shook his head as he studied her attire. “Lilies only. And not just any color. But purple.”

  The drunken man’s grin widened. “I do not have purple lilies.” Poking Oliver in the chest with his index finger, he continued, “But wait here. You will love what I have.”

  “You don’t have to buy me flowers,” Madelena protested.

  “A memento to remember the evening. You know, since the painting I made for you was stolen.”

  A few moments later the man returned with a bouquet of white lilies accentuated with tiny purple and white flowers. Oliver paid the man and handed Madelena the flowers. She took the gift and placed them to her nose.

  “Thank you.”

  “Well, not many men get to experience the fun I have had this evening. The man did an excellent job of selecting the flowers. Sweet peas for a beautiful peahen.”

  She bashfully fluttered her eyes at him. “You are too kind. You should not have purchased the flowers. You already purchased all my baskets and only took one.”

  “And what did you do with the others?”

  “I repaired them and sold them again,” she sheepishly admitted, fully expecting him to be angry.

  Oliver laughed. “Brilliant!”

  “You are not angry?”

&nbs
p; “No. Now if I were one of my brothers, then that would be a different story.”

  “How many brothers do you have?”

  “Eight. And one sister.”

  “My, that is a large family.”

  “What of you?” Oliver asked. “Any siblings?”

  “Unfortunately,” she mumbled. “And I do not wish to speak of them.”

  “Then what do you want to speak of?”

  Delight twinkled in her brown eyes, causing them to sparkle. “Dancing?”

  “Dancing?”

  “I want to go dancing again.”

  “Then, by all means.” He motioned towards the group in the center of the square.

  She glanced at the tower clock and noticed the time. It was nearing two in the morning. She looked back at Oliver then the clock. It was nearing dawn! She was having a wonderful time, but at this rate, she would never lose her virginity. She had to be brazen. A man walked past carrying a bottle of wine. She had seen the man before. He worked in the same building as her father. Madelena snatched the bottle from the man’s hand.

  “Hey!” the man protested.

  Madelena knew what she had to do. She raised her mask, revealing her identity to the man. It was a bold move. She knew it would get back to her father by morning, and that was what she was hoping. The more who saw her with a strange man this time of night, the more her reputation would be ruined. Why had she not thought of this earlier?

  “My mistake. Take it,” the man said. He was not about to anger Signore Russo’s daughter.

  Madelena took a long drink from the bottle. She needed courage. At Oliver’s curious glance, she spoke. “I was thirsty.” She held the bottle out to him. “Want a drink?”

  “No. I thought you wanted to dance?”

  She held her finger up and took another drink for courage. “I do. Just not here. Let us find another group.” Before she lost her nerve, she added, “Perhaps closer to where you live.”