The Makeshift Marriage Read Online Free Page A

together.
    How she wished he would go away. He was forcing himself upon her and she was uncertain of how to handle the situation. For the first time since leaving England she really wished she had a companion, but she did not, and he was waiting for her to reply. She felt cornered, and loathed herself, and him, when she meekly gave in to the pressure he was putting upon her. “My name is Miss Milbanke, sir.”
    He drew her hand to his lips. “I am charmed to make your acquaintance, Miss Milbanke. And now, I shall order something a little more palatable for you.” Without waiting for her reply, he sat down, snapping his fingers at the serving girl.
    “I —I’m not hungry, sir,” said Laura lamely.
    “Nonsense, you came here to eat, Fräulein, and eat you shall. Besides, propriety will not be offended by my assistance, Miss Milbanke. After all, we are allies, are we not?”
    “Allies?”
    “England and Austria.”
    “Oh. Yes.”
    “And so I will consider it a privilege if you allow me to order your luncheon for you.” He spoke briefly to the maid, who did not smile at him as she had smiled at Laura.
    Glancing around, Laura noticed for the first time how suddenly quiet the square was. The crowd of Venetians had vanished, including her beggar guide, and she was now quite alone with the baron. The golden alyssum tumbling over a nearby wall stirred audibly in the breeze, birds sang in the garden behind the eating house, and the sounds of Venice continued beyond the square —but at Fontelli’s everything was horribly quiet.
    The baron removed his red shako and leaned back in his chair, smiling a little at her apprehension on seeing how deserted the square now was. “I am not welcome in this city, and neither are any of my countrymen. The people of Venice are fools, are they not? With Austria as their overlord they are more prosperous than they have been in centuries.”
    “The conquered never love their conquerors, sir.”
    “It does not concern me what they think or why they think it. They are of no consequence to me.”
    How arrogant he was, more arrogant even than Sir Nicholas Grenville, and that was saying a great deal! Was it to be her fate here in Venice to take her meals with disagreeable companions?
    The silent serving girl brought the baron’s order, which included a bottle of Tokay wine. He smiled at Laura. “I trust, Miss Milbanke, that you like risi e bisi. It is rice sprinkled with vegetables and ham and Fontelli prepares it most excellently.” He poured the wine and then commenced to eat his meal.
    “Do you like Venetian food, Baron?” she asked.
    “It is passable. As is the wine, although it cannot compare with our hock.”
    “No, of course not.”
    He looked sharply at her, rightly suspecting her of sarcasm, but she met him with a bland, disinterested expression through which he could not see and which would have silenced a lesser man. The rice dish looked delicious and the wine was cold enough to chill its glass, but the last thing she was going to do was give him the satisfaction of seeing her enjoy what he had rudely insisted upon ordering. She did not want his company or his strange notion of chivalry; she found him conceited and swaggering and objectionable. Normally she would have left him in no doubt at all of her feelings, as she had done that morning with Sir Nicholas, but there was something about the Austrian that cowed her just a little, an air of menace of which she was constantly conscious.
    He was aware that she had not begun to eat, but for the moment he chose to ignore it. “I have only recently returned from a visit to England, Miss Milbanke,” he said conversationally. “A town called Taunton. Do you know it all?”
    “No. I come from Sussex.”
    “Taunton is most charming.”
    “Indeed?”
    “You are not eating your luncheon, Miss Milbanke. You English have no idea how to enjoy your food.”
    “Maybe that is because we are not renowned for our cuisine,