Two Little Lies Read Online Free PDF

lasted only a moment. It was replaced by a burning, righteous fury. Yet the proud lady spared him not a glance before mounting the steps into her carriage and lifting a gloved hand to signal that they should depart.
    Later, when he considered it, he realized that he had, in fact, seen very little. There had been a flash of color as the woman turned, skirts of deep burgundy, jewel-like against the black velvet of her swirling cloak. A black hat set almost flirtatiously to one side, and bountiful black ribbons tied at the chin, lifting lightly in the breeze. That unmistakably proud set of her shoulders. Those slashing black eyebrows. The way she carried herself, like the haughtiest queen, stepping up into the carriage as if she owned the world.
    Her face, though—yes, there was something different about her face. She did not look the same. The nose…it was not quite right. And yet, he would have known her anywhere, even had a thousand years passed. It was Viviana Alessandri. Oh, yes. And still his breath would not come, and his heart would not leave his throat.
     
    By the late afternoon, the mantel clock in Lord Chesley’s Belgravia town house was running ten minutes slow, the pendulum’s doleful tock-tock-tock echoing hollowly, as if it might tick its last at any moment. The atmosphere inside the parlor was oddly subdued, too. With a neatening rattle, Chesley laid aside his newspaper and studied his lone companion.
    “I think I shall go upstairs, Vivie, and have a nap before dinner,” he said, rising. “One never adequately anticipates the wear and tear of travel, does one?”
    Viviana looked up from her sheaf of roughly sketched notes and music, and smiled at her host. “Si, it is trying, my lord,” she agreed. “Even little Nicolo was exhausted yesterday. A remarkable thing indeed.”
    Chesley strolled toward the windows which overlooked the arboreal glory of Hans Place. “What do you wish to do tonight, Vivie?” he asked musingly. “Shall we look up Digleby, and go watch the rehearsals for Fidelio? Or—wait, I know the very thing! We could take the children to Astley’s Amphitheatre!”
    Her eyes lit for a moment. “But Nicolo is too small, no?”
    “Nonsense,” said Chesley. “He’ll have a lovely time.”
    Viviana pushed away her cold cup of tea. She had promised herself she would not go about in London any more than was absolutely necessary. One never knew who one might run into. But at Astley’s? No, surely not. Still, it had been a long trip from Venice to London.
    “How kind you are, Chesley, to think of my children,” she answered, coming to her feet. “But perhaps we ought simply to have a quiet evening here? I fear Papà may have overtaxed himself with the walk from St. James. And now he is upstairs romping with Nicolo.”
    “But of course, my dear,” said the earl. “I sometimes forget just how old Umberto is now.”
    “Si, as does he,” Viviana returned.
    Chesley closed the distance between them, and took her hands in his. “Vivie, my dear, are you perfectly all right?” he asked. “You have not seemed yourself these last two days. Was it the travel? Have I asked too much of you, in pleading for this visit to England?”
    She smiled, and squeezed his hands. “I wished to come,” she said, lying unabashedly. “I wished to be away from Venice for a while.”
    Chesley laughed, and lifted her hands in his, as if he might dance her round the room. “Oh, indeed! Why stay in Venice when one can winter in England!” he said. “I’m sure it must be all the rage. No, admit it, Vivie. You wished to leave your French marquis cooling his heels, did you not? Poor devil! What was this one’s name?”
    “Gaspard.”
    “Yes, alas, poor Gaspard!” said Chesley.
    Viviana grinned. “Gaspard had become tiresome,” she admitted. “I shall not miss him.”
    Chesley’s expression sobered. “But spring is far away, my dear,” he said. “And Buckinghamshire will be very cold come January.