Masquerading (Open)

She wished he had not asked to know more. She wished they could have talked of other things instead. The truth of the matter was far beyond what she could even bear to remember. And she was worried. Worried for what Raphael would do if he knew.... her reasons.

She knew she must put aside her selfish desire to remain with an ounce of respect still. It was time to be bold, or at least to try to be so. "You should not duel. It is a risk which I do not need you to take. That man is aging, yes, but he is vicious. And from a family of fighters. He will not duel fairly. I can stand any dishonour he attempts to lay upon me, it does not matter. The lord can judge me."

Eleanora tried for a brave smile.

Raphael frowned, partly in concern and partly in confusion.

How was he to defend her honour if she didn't want it to be protected?

The merchant paused, mulling over how to respond. What she said was likely true - Volpe fighting unfairly would hardly surprise him - but what could be done?

"Milady, I saw Signor Volpe earlier today. He didn't recognise me without my mask but I certainly recognised him. He plans to blackmail you to keep your father from knowing what happened at the masquerade ball."

He paused briefly, trying to gauge if she was taking everything in.

"Even though you didn't do anything wrong, I embarrassed him and he seeks justice," he continued. "And without knowing my identity, he plans to punish you for my actions."

Raphael stepped forward, placing his one free hand on her upper arm. His grip was gentle but firm, matching his tone.

"Eleanora, if I don't defend your honour, what kind of man does that make me? And what will it do to you? What does Volpe have over you? And if I don't duel him, what can be done? I simply can't stand by and let him have his way with you!"

Eleanora heard the conviction in his voice, and feel the strength of his grip, and she knew that he would not be dissuaded. She couldn't stop him, and, secretly, she wanted him to put Volpe in his place. The mean, lecherous man would ruin her if he got the chance, and she could think of nothing else that could stop him.
Her eyes met his. "You must promise two things. To be careful of his slippery ways. And... to come back to me afterwards, not to forget me," She pleaded.

As soon as Eleanora held his gaze, Raphael felt as though he might melt. Her dark, innocent eyes often spoke much more than the shy woman to whom they belonged to.

"Oh, Eleanora, I'll not forget you," he smiled, finding the notion humorous.

He lifted his hand from her arm to her cheek, caressing the cold, soft skin.

"No gardener could forget the prettiest prize in the garden!"

Raphael leaned forward, gently kissing her forehead, but not pulling his head back. Instead, he stayed close, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"Did you bring the jacket?"

He was achingly close and a few moments passed before she remembered to breathe.

"Yes..... I have it here." She drew the folded red jacket from under her cloak, the parting of which revealed for a moment the dress beneath, which hugged her slim form. She gave the jacket to him, which had a heart-breaking symbolism for her, as if she were handing him his fate.

Unable to contain herself, she turned and strode away as quickly as she could, back into the dark, back into the streets, tears burning her.

Eleanora's departure was sudden and unexpected.

Raphael had been so close to her, feeling the warmth of her breath. Now he was on his own in the cool night with a glass of champagne in each hand and his red jacket resting over his forearm.

Truth be told, the merchant had hoped their brief business could have been followed by some pleasure, but perhaps he had underestimated just how much she had risked by visiting him so late at night.

He called after her, but when she didn't turn back, he realised he had to let her go. It was only once she was completely out of sight that Raphael realised they had not made plans for a reunion. He wasn't sure if he could fool her father's house staff a second time.

With a resigned sigh and a departing glance up at the moon, Raphael slowly made his way down to the carriage, instructing Antonio to drive them home.

He would have to get sone more sword practice under his belt if he was to protect Eleanora's honour.

Masquerading - Beatrice

Per Kiwi's request. Beatrice's story has been moved to a different thread: http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=1069883

Masquerading - Beatrice

duplicate post. not sure how to delete completely.

A day passed. Then another, then it was a full week. Signor Volpe still ruminated on his intentions to shame Eleanora, but his business was obsructing immmediate action. Greedy for more and more income, he squandered all of his hours on profane pursuits, working all of the hours which he could. The money poured in, and it pleased him.

Despite the pleasure of profit.... he had felt.... as if perhaps he was being watched. Followed. He had felt eyes on him, and twice whipped around to confront, and seen only blank stares. He had enemies. He scanned the faces of all around. He recognised none. He always had been twitchy, more so as his success increased. He resolved to be calm. He had merely worked too hard.

Volpe departed yet another business partner's house. Late, stomach full with expensive food and wine. He felt warm and pleasantly addled with drink, and his thoughts turned to Eleanora. And the things he might be able to force her to do if he posed his threats effectively. Her slim, firm body..... he imagined her pinned beneath him, stuggling and crying as he penetrated her. Of course, the story of her conduct at the ball would not suffice to bring to life this fantasy.... but Volpe knew another secret of hers.... and the time had come to use it....

These thrilling thoughts took his full attention as he procceeded through the desrted early-morning street, dark enveloping the houses on either side. Home was near enough not to bother with a carriage. He was absorbed in the images.... he did not realise that he had indeed been correct.... he was being tracked.

Raphael had first found Signor Volpe when he had returned to Piazza San Marco the day after his brief midnight encounter with Eleanora.

Once again, the old fool was blustering about how he'd been wronged and the justice he sought. Eleanora was rarely mentioned but Raphael knew she wouldn't be far from the silver haired man's mind.

Raphael's resolve had been steeled by his last encounter with Eleanora. He hated the hold Volpe had over her, and although he didn't know what chances he had of defeating the man in a duel, he could see no other way of protecting her.

As far as he was concerned, the worst that might happen would be losing the duel - likely an injury of some kind, but hopefully one that wasn't too serious. But at least then Volpe would have his justice, and there would be no need for him to exert his control over the beauteous young woman.

Or so he hoped, anyway.

Raphael had followed Volpe every day until he was confident of the older man's patterns. There had been a few close calls in the process, but by the time a week had passed, the young merchant felt ready.

Waiting in a narrow alleyway off one of the small streets that Volpe regularly frequented, Raphael tried to remain calm in the early morning air. And it wasn't long before he heard the familiar and distinctive footsteps of his quarry.

Once Volpe had passed him by, Raphael made his move.

"Signore Volpe!" he called, waiting for the older man to turn and face him before stepping out of the shadows.

He was dressed just as he was at the masquerade ball: red suit, his mask covering his face, sword resting at his hip.

"You seek justice for embarrassing yourself at the masquerade," he continued, openly resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. "I seek the same, and I challenge you to a duel."

Volpe froze. He was suddenly alert, ready. He had been surprised, but didn't mind- he was glad that the moment had come, that his foe was returned. He slowly turned to face his challenger.

"You are correct sir. I do seek justice. A respected man must be treated properly!" He looked Raphael up and down, the anger of the ball night creeping back to him.
"I admire your courage sir. Coming to find me, not hiding- had you done so, I would have been forced to seek retribution....elsewhere."

He drew the sword, always with him, often a threat, occasionally used. He assumed his duelling pose, sword arm outsretched, a glaring resolve on his stern face.

Raphael narrowed his eyes, his grin hidden by his mask. He had half expected Volpe might want a duel right away.

Usually, a time and place would be set, but the old fool was so brash that he wanted to start with no preparation! And he hadn't even asked for a witness to confirm the victor - but Raphael had been careful to take care of that.

The young merchant cleared his throat, and Antonio stepped out of the same shadows, making himself visible before retreating to the safety of the alley.

The presence of a witness not only legitimised the duel, but it also ensured that if Volpe was to try anything underhanded in order to win, the Venetian rumour mill would be quickly notified.

"I've already bested you once, Signore," Raphael announced as he drew his sword, mimicking Volpe's pose. "Do you insist I do it again?"

Raphael's strategy was simple. He was rested, sober, and cautious - he hoped Volpe was none of those. If he could make the man angry enough to make a foolish mistake, he would capitalise.

"Bested me?!" Volpe roared in reply, "Never did you best me, sir! And never shall you! I've duelled more times than you have attended mass, no doubt!"
He summoned his reserves of control- sometimes alcohol had the better of him, but other times he could suppress its effects if he needed to. This was one such a time. And he felt ready, and furious with his younger opponent. He noted the witness- good, he needed someone to verify his victory against this upstart.

Volpe moved towards Raphael, incing closer, before his arm twitched with impressive speed to deliver his first sweeping attack.

Raphael had learnt of Volpe's prowess in the previous days while he'd been preparing - and Eleanora was clearly confident in the man's abilities - but it wasn't until that first strike that the merchant realised he was out of his depth.

He quickly stepped back and blocked the incoming attack but didn't return the favour as his mind quickly worked to reassess the situation. It was true that Volpe was more skilled than him, and the older man clearly had more experience, but Raphael had one advantage: his age.

Hoping to anger Volpe into a mistake, and determining to remain on the defensive so that the lecherous fool would eventually tire and become an easier target, Raphael forced himself to taunt his opponent.

"I bested you on the balcony at the ball. Were you too drunk to remember?"

Volpe did remember, at least partly. But he had felt that it had been merely an example of a low trick, and not a true victory. He would show this upstart what real honour was.

The masked man blocked his first attack, dancing away rom him. Volpe attacked again and again, and several minutes passed in the same pattern- the older man the agressor, the younger man doing what he could to stay out of danger.

Volpe was becoming more and more excited, more and more impatient- the time seemed to be right for him to take his victory.

"I have you now, coward!!" He yelled, and lunged forwards with all his might.

Raphael had twisted and dodged his way to this point. Surviving an onslaught from Volpe, even when his best days were behind him, was no mean feat.

The younger man had made no attacks of his own - he couldn't risk it until he was sure he was being presented with his best opportunity.

Instead, he had merely taunted his opponent, watching for each incoming strike as it approached, blocking it or avoiding it as best he could - and sometimes by the narrowest of margins.

But now he could see that Volpe was beginning to tire. Even better, the man was growing impatient.

And then it happened. In act of frustration, Volpe declared what he hoped would be the winning strike.

Just as the attack began, and with Volpe fully committed, Raphael moved like he'd never moved before. He spun away to his right, coming full circle just as Volpe's arm was fully extended in a lunge, and swung the sword down hard, hoping to draw blood and thereby achieve satisfaction - and more importantly, victory.

Volpe's shoulder suddenly stung viciously, at the same instant at which he realised that his end-move was to be a failure. The opponent was too fast, had been waiting for him to commit. He stubled to the ground, scraping his palms on the stone, gasping his surprise.

Back to his feet, his hand reached to assess the damage. It came away red. Not a deep wound, but enough to spill a little blood. It worried him not one bit, as far as his safety, he had taken such a cut a hundred times before, but it told him, in an instant, that the duel was over. He had..... lost. The witness had seen it, the result would soon be all over Venice. He had no moves left to play. He met his enemy's eye, and gave the slightest of nods, before turning on his heel and striding away down the lonely street.

It was only as Volpe fell that Raphael noticed a dull thumping noise in his ears. It was loud and incessant, and it took him some time to realise he was hearing his own heartbeat. His pulse was racing and despite having made only one attack, his lungs were gasping, revelling in the beauty of remaining alive.

The young merchant took a few concentrated moments to regain his composure, lifting his mask as the older man found blood escaping through his fingers.

"Signore Volpe," he addressed the veteran fighter, "I am Raphael Idoni. I trust you won't forget being bested this time around."

Raphael turned towards the alleyway and summoned his driver.

"Antonio, please take Signore Volpe to a doctor and do so as discreetly as possible. We wouldn't want the poor man to be publicly shamed..."

Victorious in the duel, he now turned to face Volpe as he continued.

"...as long as he agrees to stay away from Eleanora Simoneti. If he strays too close to her, you shall have to tell all of Venice what you have witnessed today."

Raphael watched Antonio guide the scowling older man away.

Light was beginning to spill into the walkway as he turned, walking towards the wealthy quarter, barely able to contain his excitement.

The sun was high in the sky by the time he reached the Simoneti household, and he asked the doorman to ensure a note was passed on to Eleanora. He donated the equivalent of a day's wages to the man's pocket, and then left to get some rest.

The note read:
E,

It is done. Same time and place as last time.

R.

Eleanora took the note from Stefano, puzzled. He declined to make any comment on it, which she assumed meant that he had been paid handsomely for a level of discretion that certainly was not natural to him. She retired to her room.

E,

It is done. Same time and place as last time.

R.

The words thrilled her, flled her with joy and relief. Raphael had prevailed! He was safe. He was safe. Her thoughts were not concerned with her saved honour, only with her admirer's safety. She would see him again, without the dark cloud of violence and revenge this time. Free.... to talk to him, to look upon him, to thank him. She hoped neither man had sustained an injury during the duell. She tried to read between the lines, but nothing more was given away by the brief note.

She waited, sleeplessly, in her bed, fully dressed, waiting for the time to come around. Eventually she arose, and crept from the house.

His figure became apparent on the bridge, like last time, yet somehow he seemed taller, a stronger form. Perhaps it ws merely her blossoming optimism. This time they saw each other at once.

Raphael couldn't conceal his smile when he saw Eleanora approaching the bridge. Even in her walk, she appeared more confident than before. Whatever hold Volpe had had over her, it seemed to have gone...or, at the very least, loosened its grip.

"Bella Indigo," he grinned, greeting her with a kiss on each cheek. "I do appreciate you escaping your home to come see me."

Raphael stood back to admire her, the pretty flower that somehow couldn't see that she was the gardener's pride and joy.

The merchant himself wore a dark blue suit and black boots, with his sword resting on his hip.

Raphael turned his back to Eleanora for a moment, grabbing two glasses of champagne from the ledge of the bridge, before turning back around and offering one to her.

"Third time lucky, perhaps?" he grinned, holding out his glass as if making a public toast.

Eleanora smiled, less shyly than before, when he kissed her cheek in greeting. Her clothing was unremarkable- her dress was of expensive pale blue silk, but covered by the dak cloak that shielded her slim body from the icey clutch of the night. She took the glass, and joined him in the toast that he playfully proposed. Her heart felt light, freed of the immediate threat of disgrace, and (almost) free of any fear of Signor Volpe. She doubted he would give up for good, but she knew his cautious, scheming ways- he would take time, time to regroup, time to plan. She would not worry about that, not at this wonderful moment.

The pair drank in blissful silence for a minute, the need for seriousness and concern gone, meddling outsiders brushed out, at least for the moment, from the picture.

"Thank you for all that you have done. I can scarcely describe what it means to me that you would put yourself in harms way for my honour, for me. " She fixed him with her deep, sincere eyes, her hand on his.

It was her eyes.

They had captured him again. They had been the first part of her that he had truly seen at the masquerade ball, flitting and frightened. He had fallen for them then, and they held his gaze again now, this time showing only gratitude and a greater sense of assuredness.

He nodded at her thankfulness, but decided to make light of his own contributions.

"Not at all, Eleanora. I just like pretty flowers."

He grinned, registering her cold palm on his hand.

"Bella, we must arrange to meet at a warmer time," he added, placing his glass down and then covering her hand with his own, rubbing the soft, delicate skin to gift her fingers with some heat. "But until then, tell me of yourself. I can't think why such a delicate and refined beauty has been hidden away for so long."

Eleanora knew that now she could reveal a little more of herself. But.... how much? She had still one last secret....
The glittering stars made her want to be open, honest, generous with her history. She wanted to do any small thing that she could to repay the man who had twice rescued her.

"I haven't been completely hidden. I've been allowed to partake in one or two small gatherings over the last year or so, just.... not many. My sister is far more capable than I am- she knows how to act, what to say..... she's brilliant, and everyone loves her for it. I say the wrong thing, trip over, break things."

She smiled sadly at her handsome admirer. "Trouble loves me."

They were silent for a few minutes, holding hands and looking out over the canal, content to be together without immediate pressure.

"But there is another reason my father does not believe it appropriate for me to be in society for a little while. He wishes me to wait for a time longer, because of something that happened shortly after my eighteenth birthday. Something which I should not have done. It was very wrong of me. Or..... or so they say."

Raphael was content in his current situation: Eleanora's hand still clasped between his own; her softly spoken voice floating along with the canal waters that lapped against the sides of the buildings on either side of the bridge; the late hour gifting them privacy in a city that thrived on social company and gossip.

He listened intently as his flower talked of her failings and of her sister.

"Does that make me trouble, then?" he teased. "You must know that I have met your sister, and I wasn't taken with her. Yes, she's attractive, but I would rather you were here with me on this bridge than she."

He fell quiet again, feeling a gentle breeze waft over them as he simply took in the moment.

When Eleanora broke the silence, Raphael knew she was sharing a secret. By its very nature, the content showed her vulnerability.

The part-time swordsman turned away from the canal water and faced her, looking once again into her alluring eyes.

He couldn't think what horrible crime the delicate woman before him could have committed that would drive her father to be so cautious with her.

"I hope you didn't push a man off a canal bridge at midnight!"

He chuckled lightly, not attempting to mock Eleanora but merely hoping to help ease the nerves she must have been experiencing.

"If you do not wish to tell me, I will respect that. But I do confess to having my curiosity piqued."

Eleanora felt that she could tell him all. They had already experienced so much together, so much difficulty and uncertainty.

"I shall tell you, and I hope that you will not think less of me for it," She started quietly. "I was recently eighteen, and bored with my dull, protected life. My father had promised me more liberties, more social occasions and trips away. But I was weary with waiting, and desperate for excitement."

She looked away from him again, to the canal, steeling her resolve to unveil the next part of her scandal.

"I had some time, as was normal, with my best friend, Lucieta. We were supposedly discussing our studies in my room, but we were bored with it, and talking instead of..... of the things we had heard occur between men and their chosen women. We knew no details, but the idea terrified and thrilled us. Lucieta said...... she said that such things could also happen between two women. Which had never passed through my mind. Then..... we became, out of curiosity at first..... intimate. It happened several times before my father caught us together in my bed. He managed to keep it hushed up, mostly, but told Lucieta's father, of course. And he was a close friend of signor Volpe..... and, for reasons I don't know, told him the story. So that awful man knows too. And I never saw Lucieta again. Her family took her away, to avoid me."

A tear fell from her cheek into the vast waters of the canal, her face burning with shame.