The Makeshift Marriage Read Online Free

narrow side canals before at last poling his craft toward some steps by a bridge. Some women were opening shellfish there and a crowd of beggars swarmed forward as the gondola nudged the steps. The gondolier leaped ashore to help Laura disembark and then turned to wave the beggars away imperiously, singling one out, however. He was a tall, burly fellow who did not look in the least as if he needed to beg for his livelihood, and Laura guessed that he and the gondolier were well acquainted. Was this play reenacted time after time, she wondered? No doubt they had an interest in the prosperity of Fontelli’s!
    The gondolier assured her that her new guide would look after her and that when she had eaten he would conduct her to another gondola. Thanking him, she paid the not-too-exorbitant price he charged, and then left the steps with the beggar. She felt a moment’s trepidation, for she did not know where she was going, but soon the uncertainty vanished as once again the magic of Venice folded over her. They walked up a narrow, busy street where there were stalls with colorful awnings, selling everything from stewed pears to grilled fish. Women sat on their doorsteps chattering loudly to one another as they peeled vegetables or mended garments, and there were children excitedly playing skittles down an alley. On the buildings that overlooked the street, there were strange carved heads. They had been much in evidence since she had left the hotel that morning, and now they seemed to watch her progress still, their lips drawn back in a snarl which should have been menacing and ferocious, but which in Venice was nothing of the sort.
    At last her guide led her into a small square, one side of which seemed to be entirely taken up by an eating house. It was crowded and obviously very popular with the Venetians. The beggar ushered her into a seat, accepted the coin she gave him, and then retreated to a shady corner at the far end of the square to wait for her. She sat there a little uncertainly, glancing at the several dishes being consumed at other tables. She did not recognize any of them and so felt a little foolish as a smiling serving girl appeared by her side. Taking a deep breath, Laura pointed at the next table where a well-to-do gentleman was eating something with obvious relish. The girl beamed and nodded, and a short while later a bowl was placed before Laura. It contained a dubious-looking piece of meat floating in what appeared to be a thin black soup. Her appetite dwindled as she stared at it.
    “Fraulein, I do not think you will enjoy what you have ordered.”
    She knew the voice even before she looked up into the hussar’s dark eyes. He stood there with his hands on his slender hips, his pelisse swinging as he placed one shining, spurred boot on a chair and leaned forward, smiling down at her. How could it possibly be coincidence that brought him to this very place at the same time as her? She believed in coincidence, but after her experience in the hotel that morning, she doubted very much that this was any such thing. It seemed only too likely that he had been following her, and as she looked up into his dark eyes she knew that her suspicion was correct. She felt cold suddenly, and more than a little frightened.
    He glanced at the bowl. “It will not be to your English taste, I think.”
    “Why?”
    “It is called calamari —squid cooked in its own ink.”
    Horrified, she pushed the bowl away.
    He smiled. “Permit me to order anew for you, Fraulein.”
    “Certainly not, sir! We have not been introduced and I know absolutely nothing about you.” Her words sounded prim and proper, but the last thing she wanted was to strike up any sort of acquaintance with this unnerving man.
    “Ah, etiquette,” he murmured. “Then I shall put matters right by introducing myself. Baron Frederick von Marienfeld of the Radetzky Regiment in the service of the Emperor of Austria.” He bowed smartly and clicked his heels