Chapter 2
This is the Almost the Beginning
Two hours earlier, in Vittoria’s bedchamber
“Is it too tight? I think it’s too tight,” Nicoletta D’Avalos Slater, Marquesa Montblanc, said in Italian as she regarded her reflection in a cheval mirror.
“It’s fine, Aunt Nikky,” Vittoria assured her, waving away the lady’s maid who had seen to her hair. “It shows off your rising moons to good effect.” The younger woman dipped her head and glanced down the front of her own bodice. “I wish Papa would have allowed me to wear such a gown.”
Nicoletta glanced at her only niece and allowed a long sigh.
“Oh, but your gown is gorgeous. My brother must have dropped a good deal of coin with your modiste,” she murmured, fingering the silver-on-silver moiré silk.
Underneath the yards and yards of draped fabric making up the bell skirt of the otherwise fitted gown was a series of puffy petticoats and every last bit of the tulle the modiste could claim she possessed.
Set aside on the dressing table was a pair of dove gray gloves, the closest match to the silver.
A diamond encrusted comb, a prized possession of Vittoria’s late mother, was already gracing her hair.
“Which is why I only have two gowns this Season,” Vittoria complained, her fingers nervously pinching one of the bows holding up the drape on the right side.
There were a number of rosebud bows sewn onto the skirt as well as at the edges of her square-cut bodice and along the seams of the long sleeves, their tails appearing as if they were connected to the next one in the row.
She feared if someone dared pull one of them, they might all come undone and the gown would drop to her feet.
“Is the other just as beautiful?” Nicoletta asked, her critical gaze still on her own red satin and black lace gown.
In her past, she had worn the gown at one of the balls of her first and only Season.
Back then, the gown had been perfectly respectable for a young lady. The bodice hadn’t been nearly as tight.
She hadn’t been married back then, though. Nor had she given birth to two babes.
“More so, I think. It’s blue, but not light blue. More vivid,” she said, pulling Nicoletta from her reverie. Vittoria opened the door to a wardrobe and pinched the skirt of the other ballgown.
“Oh, it will be perfect with your black hair,” Nicoletta breathed. She reached out with a red-gloved hand and fingered the fine silk deNaples fabric. “I may have to borrow it,” she teased.
Her niece grinned, knowing there was no way the gown would fit her aunt.
“I do appreciate you and Zia Armenia seeing to my come-out,” Vittoria said, sadness settling over her features.
Color had been applied to the high cheekbones of her heart-shaped face and to her full lips.
Above her upturned nose was a pair of eyes that seemed to change their hue from brown to sapphire blue depending on what she wore.
Dark brows matched her black hair, currently swept up into a coiffure that was already threatening to escape its pins and the diamond comb.
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this,” Nicoletta replied. “I am only sorry your mother could not see you looking so radiant,” she added. “She would be so proud of you.”
Vittoria dipped her head. “She is watching from heaven, as Papa would say.” The loss of the contessa the year prior from a terrible fever had forced the delay of Vittoria’s come-out and had left her father, Edoardo Enrico Vincenzo D’Avalos, heartbroken.
Knowing he required a new wife, Vittoria had encouraged him to use her come-out ball as a means of meeting a potential contessa.
Although Edoardo had visibly winced, she knew he had been considering the possibility when she managed a peek at the guest list earlier that afternoon.
A number of young widows and unmarried daughters of aristocrats were included.
Those names had been preceded by other names unfamiliar to her, such as one her father claimed belonged to a wealthy American.
“Probably too old for you, but I may wish to do business with him,” her father had said when she asked about Patrick McAdams.
Nicoletta resisted the urge to wince. The entire time she had grown up with her brother, Edoardo, she had never thought him capable of empathy. To have concern for others. To think of someone besides himself. He had been the epitome of a spoiled Italian aristocrat.
Edoardo had left Catania for Rome years before her own come-out, managing to regain some of the influence their father had lost with his poor investments and incessant social climbing.
Marriage and family had changed Edoardo, though.
Inheriting an earldom had sobered him, but it was family that had made him a responsible aristocrat.
He had married the daughter of a duca and used the funds from her generous dowry to make the renovations necessary to restore Palazzo D’Avalos in Roma so it was more glorious than when their father had inherited the title the century prior.
Even now, she knew Edoardo was downstairs seeing to the last-minute details of the ball he was to host on his daughter’s behalf. The guests would begin arriving in only a few minutes.
“Please know that the special guests we have invited will not detract from your come-out,” Nicoletta said.
Vittoria whirled around to stare at her aunt. “Special guests?” she repeated.
“Donald’s family,” Nicoletta replied, keeping her voice low. “They arrived in Roma only yesterday and have taken up residence in the Villa Montblanc.”
Her dark brows furrowing in confusion, Vittoria asked, “Is that why you’re staying with Zia Armenia at Villa D’Avalos?” Her eyes rounded. “To avoid them?”
“No, of course not,” Nicoletta replied on a chuckle. “To surprise them. They think we are on Sicily, in the Villa Montblanc near Catania,” she explained. “And Donald believes they aren’t arriving here until next week.”
Vittoria scoffed, obviously not agreeing with the subterfuge. “How did you manage to convince Donald to stay at Armenia’s instead of at your villa?”
Nicoletta’s grin widened. “I told him I was having the parlor repainted and couldn’t abide the awful odor.”
Shaking her head as she tittered at hearing her aunt’s machinations, Vittoria asked, “Are these the people who have been touring Egypt of late?”
“They are.”
“Didn’t one of the young men get married whilst there?”
Nicoletta didn’t try to hide her surprise her niece would remember the details of her cousin-by-marriage, Thomas, ending up in a marriage of his own. She was looking forward to meeting the young lady, Helen, and Cousin Randy’s new bride as well.
“Indeed. So now both the Gisborn heirs are off the marriage mart, as they would say in England,” Nicoletta responded. “Which is too bad for you.”
Her mother-in-law, Barbara, had written to say that Randy had been “quite vexed” by his second cousin, Diana Henley, so she was relieved to learn they had married whilst the family was in Athens.
Nicoletta thought perhaps she had misunderstood the meaning of the word “vexed”, for she couldn’t sort why that would be grounds for a man to marry.
What impressed Nicoletta the most, though, was learning the young lady was not only the daughter of an archaeologist, but that she was one as well.
Nicoletta had never heard of a female working in the field of archaeology.
“Roma is to be their last stop on their Grand Tour,” she explained, closing the door to the ornately-carved wardrobe.
“So I saw to it they had invitations to this ball.”
“Well, I am honored, I suppose,” Vittoria said, turning her attention to the cheval mirror and standing where Nicoletta had been doing so only moments ago.
“I am glad to hear it. Besides, it means more young men with whom to dance.”
Vittoria blinked before her eyes widened in delight. She fussed with a couple of hairpins when another lock of hair threatened to escape her coiffure. “How is Zia Armenia? Papa said she agreed to be his hostess this evening.”
Nicoletta lifted a bare shoulder. “She invited us to stay with her, I think because she is lonely,” she replied.
Vittoria sounded an unladylike snort. “Armenia has more lovers than any other woman in Roma,” she claimed.
“Vittoria,” Nicoletta gently scolded. Her eyes suddenly widened. “How would you know such a thing?”
Holding a gloved hand behind the whorl of an ear, the young woman said, “I listen to everything that is said in this house.” A grin suddenly split her face. “You are planning to surprise your husband’s family, no?”
Blinking at the sudden change in subject, Nicoletta turned to the clock on the fireplace mantel. “Indeed,” she acknowledged. “I thought I was excited to see them again, but Donald will be over the moon happy. He is looking forward to showing off his new daughter.”
“Your new daughter,” Vittoria corrected her.
Nicoletta grinned. “We’ll be moved out of Villa D’Avalos and back into the Villa Montblanc on the morrow.”
“Why so soon?”
Grinning, Nicoletta said, “A certain grandmother will insist her grandchildren be close at hand. If Donna Bellingham could have another babe, she would do so.” She allowed a long sigh.
“Antony is spending his days with a tutor, and Amalia has been crawling for some time. I think she will be walking before the month is done. They grow up so fast.”
Vittoria gave a start. “Papa said the same thing to me only yesterday,” she whispered.
“Because it’s true.”
A commotion out in the corridor had them turning toward the door. A knock sounded, and Nicoletta hurried to answer it.
“I guessed right,” Donald Slater said on a soft chuckle, referring to the identity of the bedchamber in which the two young ladies were ensconced.
He lifted his wife’s hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles.
“I came bearing news. The butler announced that the Russos have arrived,” he said, referring to an aristocratic couple they had befriended in Catania.
Their daughter, Nancy, was nearly as old as Antony, and the two youngsters frequently played together.
“Maria has been looking forward to touring Roma for years,” Nicoletta remarked, referring to the Contessa Russo.
“As it happens, Russo only required an invitation to this come-out ball to finally arrange a holiday,” Donald replied, his gaze darting to Vittoria. He let out a low whistle. “It’s a good thing my brother isn’t here, or you would find yourself a married woman before the week was out,” he teased.
Nicoletta and Vittoria exchanged glances of amusement. “Remember, I haven’t told him the surprise,” Nicoletta whispered.
“What surprise?” Donald asked, bowing to his niece before he took her hand to his lips. The sound of chamber music could be heard from somewhere in the distance, the quick tempo suggesting the dancing selections had already begun.
She tittered as she curtsied. “If Zia Nikky hasn’t told you, then I shan’t either,” she replied in her stilted English. Glancing at the clock on the mantel, her eyes once again widened. “I must go down now or Papa will accuse me of missing my own ball,” she said, rushing from the bedchamber.
Nicoletta grinned as she watched her niece depart and then turned to regard her husband with an arched brow. “I am reminded of a certain night not so long ago,” she murmured.
He took her into his arms and kissed her on the lips. “While I was parted from you, it felt like an eternity,” he whispered. “But I shall never forget this gown,” he added, pulling away to glance down the front of her bodice.
“It’s too tight, isn’t it?” she asked in her accented English.
He knew better than to agree, for if he did, she would spend the next half-hour undressing to don a different gown, and they would be the ones missing the ball.
“It’s perfection on you. Surely you know it’s my favorite?
” He dipped his head to drop a kiss on the top of first one mounded breast and then the other.
Nicoletta aimed a teasing grin in his direction. “If you’re sure. Will you escort me down?”
“I will indeed,” he answered, offering his arm.
The two took their time descending the two flights of stairs leading to the ballroom, neither one of them aware the special guests had already arrived.