38. An Announcement Before Dinner

CHAPTER 38

AN ANNOUNCEMENT BEFORE DINNER

T wo hours later

The Montblanc coach bearing Lord and Lady Bellingham, David Slater, and Randy and Tom Foster pulled into the courtyard at the Baroque villa during the Golden Hour. Partially hidden by the foothills of Mount Aetna, the sun cast off the last of its warm rays as the sky in the east displayed brilliant pinks and oranges.

“These sunsets in the Mediterranean are so gorgeous,” Barbara said as she stepped out of the coach, helped down by her son, David. His attention was on the marble fountain in the center of the courtyard, water splashing from a dolphin’s mouth, the creature held by a marble statue of Poseidon. Ceramic pots of oleanders and red frangipani shrubs lined the courtyard’s circumference, their pink blooms a stark contrast to the black lava blocks making up the circle drive.

“I remember them well,” Will said, offering his arm.

Trimarco, the butler, had already opened the door to the villa, his posture rigid as he stood at attention. Six footmen hurried out to meet the dray cart bearing the trunks and valises.

“Welcome back. I will show you to your rooms,” Trimarco said in stilted English, turning to lead them up the stairs. “Dinner will be served at seven o’clock in the dining room on the first floor. Liquor will be served in the parlor at half-past six o’clock should you wish to join her ladyship.”

“We’d like that,” Barbara said. “Lady Montblanc said you would have accommodations for our servants?”

“ Sí ,” he replied, continuing the climb up the circular staircase. “The coach is going back for them now. I will show them to their rooms and provide directions to your apartments.”

Not having been in the villa before, the boys followed behind, their gazes darting about in wonder.

“Montblanc must have been rich,” Tom murmured as they climbed the marble stairs.

“He was,” Will said, his head briefly turned so his quiet response wouldn’t be heard by the servant. “Now Antony is.”

When they reached a second landing off the circular stairs, Trimarco led them down a long corridor, pausing to indicate three separate guest bedchambers for the boys and finally a door he said was to an apartment for Will and Barbara.

The sound of Randy’s low whistle upon entering his room could be heard by the others.

“This is twice the size of my bedchamber at home,” Tom said, joining his brother to survey his room.

“You have a painted ceiling, too?” Randy asked.

“I do,” Tom said, his gaze going up and around as he admired the molded stucco statuary in the corners. “There are putti everywhere,” he said, referring to the cherubs painted on the ceiling and displayed in white stucco.

“My room, too,” David said, grinning when he joined the other two. “This place must have taken decades to paint.”

“Aunt Barbara is probably asking Uncle Will if she can hire an Italian artisan to redo her bedchamber,” Tom said on a chuckle.

A pair of footman arrived with the first trunk, and Randy directed them on where to take it. Another pair followed, and still another, until all the luggage had been delivered.

Barbara emerged from the apartment to remind the boys to dress for dinner. “Wear your best,” she said, before she spun in a circle as she admired Randy’s room. “Although Signore Cavarallo’s villa is comfortable, this is...”

“Far better,” Donald said, appearing in the open doorway.

“There you are, Cousin,” Randy said. “Is your room next door?”

Donald chuckled softly. “Mine is at the other end of the corridor,” he replied. “I have a special arrangement with the lady of the house.”

“Donald,” Barbara scolded. “Don’t be crass.”

“Well, I do, Mother. We’re to be married soon,” he argued. He glanced around. “Has anyone seen my trunk?”

“It’s in our apartment,” Will said, joining them. He had changed into a formal waistcoat but wore no cravat. “Anyone seen Stevens?”

“Here, my lord,” his valet called out, his breathing labored from having climbed the stairs. He was followed by his wife, who carried a stack of clean clothes.

“In here,” Will said, ducking into his apartment.

Donald followed and helped himself to several pieces of clothing from his trunk. He began changing, his movements hurried.

“I suppose your bedchamber is much like this?” Will asked in a quiet voice as Stevens saw to wrapping a cravat around his neck.

Glancing around as if noticing the room for the first time, Donald nodded. “Except for the color of the velvet and...” His gaze went to the ceiling. “The subjects in the painting, it’s much the same.” He tucked his shirt into his pantaloons and pulled on a silver embroidered waistcoat.

“Does this house really belong to Antony now?” Will asked.

“It does,” Donald affirmed. He chuckled softly, remembering what Nicoletta had said about the boy earlier. “Nikky is quite determined he not become a spoiled aristocrat.”

Will arched a brow. “See to it you don’t, either.”

Settling a tail coat over his shoulders, Donald sobered. “Yes, sir.”

M eanwhile, on the way to the parlor

“Where’s papa?” Antony asked, a finger tugging at his neckcloth.

“Dressing for dinner,” Nicoletta replied, pausing before a mirror in the corridor. Although the light from a nearby sconce wasn’t very bright, she could make out her reflection in the looking glass. The crepe gown she wore was of the latest style, but the gummed silk fabric still scratched her wrists where it was tightest. The black matched her hair, though, and although she usually appeared pale whilst wearing mourning clothes, her color was still high from her earlier lovemaking with Donald.

“You are more gorgeous every time I see you,” Donald said, making his way in her direction. He bowed to Antony and took her hand in his to kiss the back of it. “Might I be allowed to escort your mother to the parlor?” he asked, turning his attention to Antony.

The boy grinned. “I am escorting her,” he claimed.

“Ah. Then I shall follow,” Donald replied, aiming a look of disappointment in her direction.

“You looking especially... is dashing the right word?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied, falling into step as they made their way to the parlor. From the other end of the corridor, the rest of his family were headed in their direction.

“I am nervous,” Nicoletta admitted.

“You needn’t be. You’ve already met my mother and father,” he reminded her.

“What of your cousins, though? Your brother?”

“Well, I would tell you to imagine them naked, but I think that is not such a good idea in the event you think they possess a better physique than mine.”

Nicoletta burst into a fit of giggles, her amusement still lighting her face when his parents entered. They curtsied and bowed while Antony ran to Will with his arms lifted.

“Antony,” his mother scolded.

“Ah, the marchese wishes to fly, does he?” Will teased, lifting the boy into the air.

Donald introduced Randy, Tom, and his brother, the three taking turns bowing and kissing the back of Nicoletta’s hand.

“You did not tell me your cousins are so handsome,” she chided. “That your brother is, too?”

They laughed at Donald’s expense before she encouraged them to sit and enjoy a glass of vermouth. “Or if you prefer, prickly pear liquor,” she suggested, as Trimarco saw to distributing glasses of the clear libation. Once everyone had been served, they looked to her for direction. “ Saluti! ” she said, raising her glass a few inches. They all followed suit, Anthony the last to join the chorus.

When the room quieted, Nicoletta asked, “Which of you is to be an earl?”

“That would be me, my lady,” Randy said. “My father is the Earl of Gisborn.”

“Ah, so you are the oldest?”

“ Sí .”

“Then I shall ask you. Since your cousin Donald and I are to be married very soon and this is your Grand Tour, I wondered if I might be allowed to join you? And bring along my son?”

Obviously surprised by the request, Randy straightened. “Of course, my lady.” He glanced at Donald. “It’s not really for me to say, though.” He turned his attention to Will and Barbara. “I think Uncle Will outranks me.”

“Ah, but he and Lady Bellingham are on their wedding trip, are they not?” she asked. “Whereas I would like to go on a Grand Tour.”

Randy chuckled. “If you’re waiting for an invitation, you have it, my lady. Besides, if what you say is true and you marry soon, this tour will become your wedding trip.”

She glanced at Donald, who was vigorously nodding, before she displayed a brilliant grin. “You make a good point, Lord Randy.”

He acknowledged her comment with a shrug. “As for Lord Montblanc... I think I can speak on behalf of my brother and cousin when I say he can be a member of our Grand Tour,” he said. “He’s our cousin, after all.”

Antony beamed in delight as David and Tom laughed.

“He’s going to be so spoiled,” Donald chuckled, a moment before dinner was announced.