The Juliet Club Read Online Free PDF Page A

softened by age: moss crept up the walls, and centuries of use had worn shallow indentations into the front steps. Faded green shutters covered the windows, giving the house a secretive look. A series of ancient terra-cotta pots were lined up on either side of the front steps, filled with a profusion of blue, yellow, and pink flowers.
    â€œ Villa Marchese ,” she murmured, a shiver of excitement running through her. “ Bellisima! ”
    But her father glared, first at the villa, then at her. “Indeed,” he said coldly. “It’s amazing what the wages of sin can buy these days.” He finished with a huge yawn.
    Kate gave him a look. She knew her father had a chip on his shoulder when it came to Francesca Marchese, but really . . .
    â€œYou wouldn’t feel so tired if you’d taken that herbal supplement for jet lag like I did,” she said. “And sin seems a little strong.”
    â€œI’m speaking of academic sin, of course,” her father said. “To think that she acquired all this”—he made a wide, sweeping gesture with his arm to encompass fifteen bedrooms, extensive gardens, a ballroom, and an entire floor of servants’ quarters—“by writing that ridiculous book!”
    â€œA lot of people loved The Shakespeare Secret, ” Kate offered meekly. Three million people, to be precise. She herself had purchased a copy in secret and stayed up until two in the morning to finish it. Unfortunately for her father, she had found it enthralling, something that she could never, ever admit. “And the reviews were pretty good.” In fact, the reviews were fantastic, which her father knew quite well.
    â€œYes, yes, yes,” he said testily. “She has achieved fame and fortune by cheapening the work of the greatest playwright the English language has ever known. Very impressive.” He stood stock-still and glared at the villa as if he were a virtuous David confronting the immoral might of Goliath. “Well, as long as we are forced to reside in this den of iniquity, I suppose we might as well get settled.”
    He walked up the steps to a massive oak door and swung the heavy brass knocker, one, two, three times.
    Each knock echoed in the quiet courtyard with all the force of a magical incantation, then the door swung open, revealing a bent, elderly woman. She was wearing a black dress, black lace-up shoes, and despite the heat, a black cardigan. She had a long black staff topped with a tarnished silver knob, which she seemed to be holding not for support but as a potential weapon should the need arise.
    â€œBuon giorno,” her father said. “We’re here for the Shakespeare Seminar.”
    â€œAh, si, si .” She smiled broadly, revealing a blinding set of dentures, and pulled the door open a little wider, gesturing for them to come in. “Shakespeare, si !”
    â€œI’m Professor Tim Sanderson. This is my daughter, Kate,” he said, as he hauled his suitcase over the threshold. “And you are . . . ?”
    â€œSi, si!” She nodded her head vigorously and pointed to herself. “Maria!” Then, introductions accomplished, she started up the sweeping staircase at top speed. After a moment’s hesitation, Kate and her father looked at each other and realized there was nothing for them to do but follow.
    Maria ushered them through a maze of halls with the courtly manner of an old family retainer. They walked past walls lined with enormous oil portraits in heavy gold frames, the faces dim and darkened by age; past dozens of doors, a few open just enough to offer teasing glimpses of grand four-poster beds and vases filled with fresh flowers; and past wall niches that contained plaster statues of saints or more flowers.
    â€œMust cost a fortune to keep this place going,” her father said. “She’ll probably run through all her money within a year and not even know where it all