The Stargazer by Michele Jaffe Read Free Book Online

his head. “Just like a woman to argue that looking manifestly guilty was proof of her innocence. I believe I was asking the questions and you were answering them. Do you have any other equally compelling proofs of your innocence?” Ian decided to make it easier for her. “I don’t suppose you would care to explain, for example, what you were doing in Isabella’s apartment, if not murdering her?”
    Bianca glared at him for a moment. He was so peevish and stubborn, refusing to see reason. Her first inclination was to show him that she could be just as stubborn by refusing to open her mouth, but she thought better of it. Perhaps she could tell him enough to prove she wasn’t a murderer without having to reveal everything.
    “I was teaching Isabella to write. I went there every Monday at the same time to give her exercises. We had a standing appointment.” She looked him in the eye, daring him to challenge her.
    “Sounds very innocent. Why wouldn’t you admit that before?”
    “There was no reason to. I told you I had nothing to do with Isabella’s death.”
    Ian was suspicious, she could sense it. She began moving around the room, cleaning up and preparing for the disposal of the body.
    “Why did you do it?” Ian challenged suddenly.
    Bianca spoke through clenched teeth. “I have just said, I didn’t do it…”
    “No, not the murder, that is not what I meant. Why did you agree to teach Isabella to write? What convinced you to potentially disgrace your family by cavorting with a courtesan? Surely there are other more adequate writing tutors in Venice that she could have hired than some chit who thinks she’s going to be a famous doctor.” Ian added the fruits of his research into her background that morning. “You have an immense fortune from your father, you certainly don’t need money … What possible motive could you have?”
    “As you yourself pointed out, women don’t need motives, only means.” Bianca spit his words back at him. She could scarcely speak she was so enraged. He was hateful, she decided, completely odious. How could she ever have thought he was attractive? “Unlike the worthy, honorable, and exalted men of your social circle, women who desire education have a hard time finding it. At any rate, those of us deluded enough to think ourselves learned—although never nearly as gifted as you and your friends—are often approached by others less fortunate for help and instruction. Many women, like Isabella, are too vain to admit to a man that they are illiterate. Imagine, my lord, not being able to read history, natural science, a letter from a friend, even a love poem. Imagine not being able to keep your own accounts, not knowing how to do simple addition and subtraction. Without those skills, a woman is always at someone else’s mercy. I suspect that you men prefer them that way. Wouldn’t you agree, my lord?”
    “It’s an interesting theory, signorina, but like all your others it is missing one crucial element—proof. How did this arrangement with Isabella come about, for example? Did she pass you in Piazza San Marco and, overhearing you lecturing whatever poor fellow you happened to have gotten the ear of, ask you for writing lessons? Do you advertise your stenographic method? Or was it—”
    Bianca interrupted his sarcastic litany. “Actually, it was after we became lovers. I wanted to receive letters from her when I was away and was disturbed by her inability to write.”
    Ian raised one eyebrow. “That, signorina, is the first sensible thing you’ve said all day.”
    “And also the first lie.” Bianca sighed and looked at him, almost with pity. “My lord, while I am grateful that you think I have enough sexual appeal to woo a beauty like Isabella, I must insist that you put the notion of our having been lovers from your mind. I met her while working on my book. For my research it was necessary to see and speak to all types of women. I let it be known that I was