13. Misery Begets a Confession

CHAPTER 13

MISERY BEGETS A CONFESSION

M eanwhile, in the Prince of Biscari gardens, Catania

Staring at the clouds surrounding the peak of Mount Aetna, Nicoletta barely noticed how the afternoon breeze had chilled the air or how it had loosened a lock of her hair from its pins to leave it falling over one shoulder. She wasn’t even aware of how long she had stood at the top of the Prince of Biscari gardens until the scuff of a boot had her giving a start. She whirled around and immediately dropped into a deep curtsy, her skirts gathering to form a silk puddle over her slippers.

“Lord Montblanc. My apologies,” she murmured, her gaze directed on the pavement at her feet. “I did not know you were there.”

A black leather-gloved finger came into view. Startled, she watched as the marchese reached out and barely touched her chin, urging her to lift her face. When she did so, she found the elderly man regarding her with an expression of longing.

“I did not mean to disturb you, mia bella ,” he said, moving closer so he could offer his arm. “Lady Armenia said I would find you here.”

Nicoletta hesitated but finally placed a gloved hand on his arm. “Was I supposed to meet you?—?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. His thick wavy hair, once black, was entirely gray and blew about in the wind. For some reason, he appeared younger than he had during the night at the ball when their betrothal had been announced. The planes of his face weren’t as sharp, his brows not as foreboding. Perhaps the light of day and fresh air helped in that regard. “But I do wish for your company. There are words I must speak to you. Explanations which need to be made,” he stammered.

Regarding him with furrowed brows, Nicoletta finally gave him a nod and pointed to a bench in a nearby clearing. She did her best to stifle a sob as they made their way to the wrought iron seat, its design meant to accommodate two people if they sat close.

Having cried herself to sleep for the past several nights, her thoughts always on Donald and how forlorn he had appeared that last rainy day before he departed House D’Avalos, she knew the marchese would have noticed her puffy eyes and reddened nose.

She had given up hope Donald had changed his mind. Stayed in Catania to remain close to her despite the change in her circumstance. But word from the man in whose lodgings he had stayed and of those who worked at the dock confirmed he had boarded a sailing ship and had departed for England.

Montblanc waited for her to be seated before he carefully settled next to her. His cane, a length of carved ebony topped with a silver lion’s head, rested over his lap, held in place with one gloved hand. His other he used to grip one of her hands, holding it so it rested atop his thigh.

She half-expected he would smell of disuse, of the odor so frequently associated with those who were old and infirm. Instead, she was surprised when she detected a hint of citrus and spice wafting past her nostrils. Although his skin appeared translucent where it was exposed, the dark veins beneath visible in the afternoon sun, he did not appear as old as she had first thought. From the shape of his cheekbones and nose, she knew he had at one time been a rather handsome man.

“I know you despair at what has happened,” he said quietly.

Nicoletta inhaled softly and turned to look up at him. Although she had seen him about Catania on a number of occasions, it had always been from afar or during an entertainment. She couldn’t recall ever being so close to him. Even when they had danced a waltz at his ball the week before, he had held her at arm’s length.

“I do,” she agreed, deciding she could admit why there were dark circles beneath her eyes and why she did not display her usual easy smile. “You probably think me foolish?—”

“I do not,” he interrupted.

She gasped. “You don’t?”

He turned to regard her with a grimace. “I did not wish for it to be like this, mia bella , especially since I know how much it hurts to think you have lost someone you love. To have to give them up for...” Here he stopped and scoffed. “For the greater good.”

Nicoletta furrowed a dark brow. “What... what are you saying?”

Inhaling deeply, which was accompanied by the faint sound of a wheeze, Montblanc dipped his head. “I once loved your mother with all of my heart,” he said, his hand tightening on hers. “When she died giving birth to you, I cursed God and the heavens. I offered him all of my worldly goods and my fortune should she be allowed to come back to life. But, alas, it was not to be.”

Her eyes rounding at hearing his confession, Nicoletta was quick to say, “It’s a wonder my father still lives. You must have cursed him even more.” She was sure he would have blamed D’Avalos for getting another child on her mother. Her older brother’s birth had been hard on the comtessa, but she had survived and lived another five years before Nicoletta’s fateful birth.

“Oh, I did. I still do,” he admitted. “Every day.”

Her gaze caught his, and she flinched at seeing the guilt in his eyes. She narrowed her own when he didn’t look away. “And yet you are friends with him,” she accused.

He shook his head. “Conte D’Avalos and I are mere acquaintances. Mostly from circumstance. Nothing more,” he replied.

Nicoletta thought back to the day she had met Donald in these very gardens. How her father and the marchese had walked side by side through the labyrinth, their conversation kept so quiet, she couldn’t hear a word they said as she followed behind. From their manner, she had thought them old friends. “Our marriage will change that, though, will it not?”

He nodded his agreement. “If it must.”

Nicoletta furrowed her brows in confusion. “My lord?—”

“Father,” he interrupted, before letting out his breath in a whoosh .

Giving a start, she stared at him. “What?”

“ I am your father. Your natural father,” he said in a hoarse whisper, his gaze darting about as if he feared they would be overheard.

Nicoletta blinked several times, her mouth dropping open to put voice to a sound of protest. He raised a finger to press it against her lips and shook his head.

“Your mother and I were lovers. Long before she married D’Avalos and again after she had given him his heir. When she grew round with my child, I was... I was thrilled. We were so happy.” He struggled to clear his throat as his eyes grew glassy.

Staring at him as if he had grown horns, Nicoletta held her breath before letting it out in a scoff. “How... how can you expect me to marry you if what you say is true?” she finally blurted. She had a thought to rise from the bench and race down the labyrinth to the street below. Run until she could no longer run. Given his age, he would not make it far in his pursuit of her.

As to where she would go...

“Because you carry a babe. My grandchild. My heir,” he replied.

Nicoletta scoffed as she shook her head, the meaning of his words finally becoming clear. “What if... what if it’s a girl?” she countered.

He lifted a bony shoulder in response. “She would still be my grandchild. I would give her... everything,” he said. “You as well, of course.”

“I cannot be your wife if I am truly your daughter,” she argued.

“You cannot, it’s true,” he acknowledged. “On paper, and for the purposes of lineage and inheritance, you must be, though. Everyone must believe we are man and wife.”

She glanced down at where his hand engulfed hers. Despite her initial revulsion at hearing his words, she began to understand why he had done what he had. “How?”

He gave her a wan smile. “We will live together in the castle. Come to town for the entertainments. Behave as if we are married,” he explained. “Which, if you think about it, is much like the way a father and his daughter appear when they are together in public.” He leaned down and kissed the side of her head as a means of demonstration. “I shall not take you to my bed, of course. You shall have your own rooms. Your own salon,” he went on. “We shall dine together and speak of the child as if I am the father.”

Nicoletta dipped her head at hearing the last, relief flooding her. The thought of sharing a bed with a man old enough to be her grandfather had been part of the reason she had spent the past few nights in a state of despair. “What of the servants? Won’t they suspect the ruse?” she asked. Everyone knew servants shared the gossip from the households in which they worked. If only one housemaid mentioned her suspicion to a friend in town, word could spread to other households and end up reaching the ears of aristocrats eager for the latest on-dit.

“I intend to display my affection for you,” he said, his words quiet. “Frequently. I have been unable to do so for nearly twenty years, so I have some making up to do in that regard.”

Inhaling softly, she stared at him with uncertainty. “Affection?” she repeated softly.

He nodded. “I cannot tell you how many times I wished for you to know the truth. How many times I nearly sought you out,” he said, a wistful expression youthening his features. “So that day here in the gardens, when I spotted you with Signore Slater, I realized how it could all work out. For the both of us,” he explained. “For the two of you, eventually.”

Nicoletta couldn’t help the blush that colored her face. Having learned from her aunt, she had always been a consummate flirt. Something had been different that day when Donald Slater appeared, though. As if her heart knew something she didn’t. “You knew that I would fall in love with him?” she questioned.

He chucked softly. “You looked exactly like your mother did the moment she met me the very first time,” he said, his eyes once again glassy with tears. “My heart was no longer my own. Signore Slater’s.... his was lost to you that day. I am sure of it.”

Nicoletta stared at the older man for several seconds before she suddenly turned on the bench and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her hands gripping the fine wool of his coat as she clung to him.

He kissed the top of her head as he held her. “I will give you everything you want, mia bella . Anything you need. You are my daughter, after all,” he said, a wan grin appearing when she finally pulled away to regard him with tear-filled eyes. “I only ask that you remain with me until such time as I die.”

Nicoletta winced at hearing the finality in his words. “And my child?”

“Shall have everything they need. Including a father, should you and Signore Slater decide to marry.”

Gasping, she stared at the eyes she now realized matched her own. “You wanted him to get a child on me,” she breathed.

“It was a necessity, yes,” he agreed. “Better him then...” He waved his hand through the air as if to indicate any of the other aristocrats that might have shown her favor.

She glanced away for a moment. “Why him? Did you arrange for him to be the one?” she asked in dismay. “Does he even know?”

He shook his head. “I did nothing but witness your first meeting with him,” he claimed, “and although I rather doubt Signore Slater is even aware of his role in all of this, I will admit I could not have chosen better if I had.”

“Even though he’s a bastard?” she challenged.

“ Acknowledged bastard,” he countered, surprising her with what he knew. “I was actually thrilled to learn of his lineage. Did you know his great-grandfather was an admiral in the British Navy? That his father was a commander?” Montblanc paused when he noted her expression of surprise. “He comes from a family who understands the importance of service to Crown and country. They are not merely spoiled aristocrats, and I am hoping we will raise your son to be more like them than like... me,” he stammered.

“Or D’Avalos,” she murmured, her gaze on her mind’s eye.

He gave her a wan grin. “So you understand?”

She nodded. “You know I’m going to tell Mr. Slater,” she threatened. She had already written a short missive to him, telling him of her despair in discovering he had left Sicily. If he kept his promise, he would write back to her upon his arrival in Oxfordshire.

“I am counting on it,” Montblanc responded. When she displayed another look of confusion, he added, “It is my hope he will one day return for you and take you to wife. Be a father to his child. Give you another, perhaps,” he went on, his face brightening as he spoke the words. “I know there is a possibility my grandchild... grandchildren will end up in England, but they will have possession of all my lands on Aetna, and the villa here in town, and the castle,” he went on. “I know it does not seem like it now, my sweet, beautiful daughter, but I do want you to be happy.”

Nicoletta settled back against the bench and stared at the marchese for several seconds before finally nodding. “All right. If that is how it is to be, then I shall play along in your ruse.” Her eyes suddenly rounded. “Am I allowed to tell my aunt?”

He shook his head. “Not yet, please,” he murmured. “We cannot take the risk of exposure,” he explained.

“And what of my father... D’Avalos?” she said, giving her head a shake when she realized she felt a good deal of relief at learning he wasn’t really her father.

“The man you know as your father must remain so,” Montblanc insisted. “I shall favor him with promises of a vineyard when I die. His greed will prevent him from guessing the true reason for my taking you to wife.”

Nicoletta nodded her understanding and was about to stand when she paused. “When will we marry?”

He furrowed his gray brows. “It must be soon. The first day of spring?”

She nodded. “Armenia will help with the arrangements and invitations.”

“Where would you like to go on our wedding trip?” he asked.

Nicoletta briefly thought of mentioning England but thought better of it. “Roma,” she finally replied. “We should go to Roma.”

He nodded as he displayed a huge grin. “I have a villa there, as it turns out,” he said. “One I believe you are already familiar with.”

Her eyes widening with understanding, she scoffed. “Aunt Armenia was not happy with fath... with D’Avalos when he told her he had sold it to you,” she murmured.

“Then after I die, you can give it to her,” he replied. “It is unentailed, so I will be sure it is yours to do with as you please.”

She blinked several times, shocked at hearing his cavalier comment. “She’ll be forever grateful, as will I.”

“Then... it is settled? You’ll do this with me?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

Nicoletta glanced towards Mount Aetna. “Ten years,” she stated.

Montblanc blinked. “Ten years?” he repeated.

“I will play the role of your wife for ten years,” she said. “Signore Slater has promised me he will wait for me for ten years. After that...” She shook her head.

The marchese chuckled softly. “Oh, mia bella , I rather doubt I will be alive for half of that,” he said on a sigh.

Her eyes rounding when she realized he was speaking of his own mortality, Nicoletta finally nodded. “All right, then. What shall I call you? When we are in public?”

He considered the query a moment. “Montblanc when we are about town. Ricardo when we are in private,” he said, wincing at this last. “I would prefer padre, but we dare not risk it.”

Nicoletta nodded her understanding. “Perhaps you would be willing to escort me home... Ricardo? It will give you an opportunity to shower me with affection in public,” she added, giving him a teasing grin.

He guffawed. “It would be my honor, my lady.”

The two stood from the bench and Montblanc offered his arm. Glancing up at him with a brilliant smile, Nicoletta placed her hand on it and the two wound their way down the garden labyrinth to the streets below.

From all appearances, they made a very happy couple.