Free An Innocent Abroad: A Jazz Age Romance by Romy Sommer Page B

Vittorio
Spinazzola, and will ask him to show you around the diggings. Are you free on
Friday?”
    Adam’s
eyes lit up. “We could make a day’s excursion of it. Will you join us?”
    Stefano
shook his head. “I already have plans.”
    Adam
began to lay out a plan for the outing, including the whole group in his
scheme.
    “You
also expressed an interest in the diggings,” Christopher said to Isobel. “Shall
we go?”
    She
wanted to, but Friday… “I’d love for a quiet day to do some painting. I have a
new idea I want to work on.” Her words fell into a sudden lull in the
conversation, louder than she intended. All heads turned her way.
    “My
cousin Izzy is an artist,” Frances explained to Stefano.
    “Is
she?” For the first time he let his attention linger on her. Heat spread
through her, sending a traitorous flush up her cheeks.
    “Then
I shall remain behind to escort you,” Christopher said, returning her to
reality with a resounding thump.
    She
shrugged, hoping she achieved a credible indifference. “There’s no need for
that. I’m very unsociable when I’m working. I’ll get so absorbed in what I’m
doing that I’ll forget you’re even there.”
    “I’ll
keep Izzy company,” Frances offered. “I can’t imagine anything duller than
tramping around a bunch of rubble in the heat and dust. I can sit and read
while Izzy paints.”
    Isobel
stiffened. Having a chaperone did not form part of her plan. Then Frances
caught her eye, and winked, and Isobel remembered their first trip into
Positano, when Frances had abandoned her to run an ‘errand’. No doubt she’d
been to visit her lover.
    And
tomorrow she’d meet him again, just as Isobel planned to do.
    She
nodded infinitesimally. “Yes, Frances can keep me company.”

Chapter Ten
     
    Peering
down through the window in Frances’ room, Isobel watched Uncle Padraig’s
horse-drawn carriage disappear around a bend in the road, followed more
sedately by the hack Adam had hired for the excursion. No-one remained in the
house but the two young women and the servants. She closed the window and
turned back to the room.
    “Try
this one.” Frances took a dress of ivory-coloured silk overlaid with fine lace
from her cupboard and laid it across the foot of her bed.
    “I
can’t wear that in broad daylight!”
    “Who’s
to know what you wear today?” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial
whisper. “You’re not really going to draw pictures, are you?”
    Isobel
stuck out a tongue, then giggled. “And you’re not really going to sit and read.”
    For
days, Frances had worn a haggard look in her eyes, but this morning she’d
regained her usual spark. The prospect of seeing her lover again had brought
roses back to her cheeks. “I don’t even plan to go down to the village with
you. Not as long as I have the whole house to myself.”
    Seeing
her glow, and the air of suppressed excitement about her, Isobel wondered that
no-one else in their party had questioned Frances’ plans for the day. With her
irrepressible energy and liveliness, Frances would never sit and read quietly
all day.
    Frances
stretched out on the bed, moving with all the sensual satisfaction of a cat.
This was the same bed where she’d made love to her Italian lover. Where she no
doubt planned to make love to him again today.
    A
knot tightened in Isobel’s chest. Would she wear that same glowing,
satisfied look by the end of the day?
    Encouraged
by Frances’ honesty, she answered, “No, I don’t intend to paint all day.”
    Before
she could change her mind, she unbuttoned her dress and reached for the one
Frances suggested.
    “Oh
no!” Frances whipped the dress away. “You can’t wear those .”
    Isobel
looked down at the white cotton petticoat that covered her more intimate
undergarments.
    Her
cousin rose from the bed and dug in the top drawer of her dresser, tossing
clothing at Isobel, leaving her no choice but to strip down and change into the
offered garments.