Free Lady Elinor's Wicked Adventures by Lillian Marek Page B

across the wide space. Elinor’s gasp of pure delight startled Lissandra, who looked around at her surroundings, cocked her head, and smiled.
    â€œYes, it is good, is it not? One forgets to see the place where one lives sometimes. But look. We have arrived.” She gestured at the building that proclaimed Del Falcone in red script on a green background. Behind the windows, baskets of bread and platters of sausage were displayed to entice passersby.
    Lissandra led the way, with Elinor and Tunbury close behind and Rycote still looking uncertain. The rear was brought up by Maria, muttering angrily. Once inside, Lissandra was promptly greeted with cries of enthusiasm by a middle-aged couple, both of them plump, rosy-cheeked, and enveloped in aprons. Introductions revealed them to be Amelia and Eduardo Falcone, who proclaimed themselves ecstatic to welcome the English visitors and ushered the party upstairs to a table where they could look out onto the piazza.
    As Amelia led the way, chatting enthusiastically to Elinor and Tunbury, Rycote was far enough behind to notice that Eduardo had drawn Lissandra apart to say something to her that seemed to distress her. He also noticed that Maria seemed to be edging over in an effort to overhear, so he stumbled into the old woman and began to apologize loudly.
    Lissandra spun about, startled, and took in the scene. With a murmur to Eduardo, she went over to Rycote and took his arm. “I see you are a gallant knight, my lord. I thank you.” She directed a glacial frown at the maid, who retreated, muttering to herself yet again.
    Rycote started to lead Lissandra to join the others, and she gave him one of her brilliant smiles. This time, however, it did not seem to reach her eyes. “Something seems to be worrying you,” he said abruptly. “If there is anything I can do, you need only ask.”
    Surprise flickered in her eyes. “No, no, my lord. Eduardo wanted only to tell me about someone from his village. It is nothing.”
    Rycote nodded as if satisfied. He could hardly accuse her of lying, and after all, why should she confide in him? He was a stranger.
    By the time they were all seated by the window and supplied with small cups of bitter coffee, she had recovered her aplomb. Eduardo and Amelia covered the table with plates of pastries, bread, sausages, and cheeses, and Lissandra entertained them all with a stream of comments about the people in the piazza, spinning fantastic histories for them.
    Her gaiety seemed to drop from her when a group of French officers came into sight. She muttered something in Italian, almost certainly a curse from her tone of voice, and pulled back, but not before one of them caught sight of her.
    At the sight of Lissandra’s pale face, Elinor reached over to her and asked what was wrong. Lissandra just shook her head, but was still clutching Elinor’s hand when one of the Frenchmen strode into the room. He was reasonably tall for a Frenchman, and his uniform fit him well. All that gold braid and tassels would look impressive onstage. The fellow had a moustache, twirling up at the ends, and probably thought himself quite the ladies’ man. Rycote scowled at him.
    The officer swept off his plumed shako, clicked his heels, bowed, and spoke in French. “Donna Lissandra, I would not have expected to find you in such humble surroundings. Had I realized your parents were now permitting such outings, I would have offered to escort you myself.”
    Lissandra held up a hand to her companions to tell them to remain seated and looked somewhere off to the side of the officer. “Any such offer would be refused, as you have doubtless surmised.” Her voice dripped ice.
    A flush of anger crossed his face, and he glared at the others. “You will perhaps introduce me to your companions?”
    Her lips tightened, but she relented and waved a hand in his direction as she turned to her companions. “This is