Chapter 5
Arrivals Make for Merry and the Beginning
A few minutes earlier, in the ballroom
“Now this is a ballroom,” Will Slater, Earl of Bellingham, murmured as he escorted his wife, Barbara, into the opulent, high-ceilinged testament to mirrors, marble, and gold.
Down a short flight of stairs was the actual ballroom—their arrival had brought them into an open hall manned by several footmen collecting wraps and hats.
“It’s positively gorgeous. Now I know from where Adeline took her inspiration for the ballroom in Morganfield Manor,” Barbara gushed, her gaze sweeping the ceiling to discover five huge crystal chandeliers, all their candles lit.
Every tall mirrored panel on the walls was framed with gilt, and the black and white marble tiles formed a chess board on the dance floor.
A generous band of Turkish carpet rimmed the room, which meant her tight slippers probably wouldn’t pain her as much as they usually did at the end of such an evening.
“I wonder if there are any flowers left in all of Roma?” Helen Tennison Forster asked, her arm gripping her new husband’s as if she needed him for support.
The elegant urns sporting the giant displays of hot-house flowers were placed between the mirrored panels, their caryatid bases featuring carved marble cherubs.
Tom chuckled. “Those are probably from the D’Avalos gardens,” he whispered.
Helen’s eyes rounded. “We really must go out there when we’ve a chance,” she said, waggling her eyebrows. If it hadn’t been for the gardens behind Morganfield Manor, she and Tom wouldn’t have shared the fateful kiss that eventually led to their marriage.
“I rather doubt there will be much to see in the way of flowers,” he countered. “They’re probably all in here.” He leaned down and lowered his voice. “Dance with me? This will be our first as a married couple.”
She tittered. “This will be our first ever. You never did dance with me the night we met,” she reminded him.
“You must agree it was better that we spent our time together in the gardens,” Tom replied, his brows waggling. “I find kissing you far more enjoyable than dancing.”
That had been the night before Tom and his older brother, Randy, and the Slaters had departed on their Grand Tour. After spending nearly two years in several countries—Sicily, Greece, and Egypt along with stops on several Greek islands—they were at their final destination.
“Don’t feel too offended. I’ve never danced with my husband, either,” Diana Henley Forster said. She and Randy had stepped up to stand next to the younger couple since Randy, as the heir to the Gisborn earldom, would be announced directly following his aunt and uncle.
“I plan to make up for it tonight, my sweet,” Randy said, his gaze darting about the ballroom. “Have you seen David? He should be announced before me,” he murmured.
“He left in the first coach, quite some time before we did, so he’s probably already dancing,” Tom said. He and Helen followed Randy and Diana when their uncle stepped forward to speak with the butler.
A moment later, and the booming baritone voice of the announcer sounded their names and titles.
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” Barbara murmured, displaying a tentative grin when those in the ballroom turned to regard them with expressions of curiosity as they descended the stairs.
“We have the advantage,” Will whispered. “They don’t know who we are.” He nodded in the direction of an older man who was openly staring at them.
“How? We don’t know them,” Barbara countered, dipping her head when a young lady curtsied as they passed.
“Exactly. However, we were invited by a marchesa.” His gaze fell on a middle-aged man holding court with the largest number of guests surrounding him.
“Ah, I believe I have found our host.” He led Barbara to the circle, and when the aristocrat acknowledged them with an expression of curiosity, Will said, “Conte D’Avalos? ”
“Sì? Ah, you are Don Bellingham?”
“I am. Posso avere l'onore di presentarvi mia moglie, Barbara, contessa di Bellingham?” May I have the honor of introducing my wife?
The conte stepped forward and dropped a kiss on the back of Barbara’s hand.
“It is my pleasure. I am Nicoletta’s brother, Edoardo, and the honor is mine—to finally meet the parents of my sister’s husband,” he said in heavily-accented English, waving a gloved hand to indicate the older couple as he made the comment for the benefit of the others who stood around them.
He shook Will’s hand and then greeted Randy, Diana, Tom, and Helen as they were introduced.
“Is there not another with you? Donald’s brother? ”
Will glanced around the ballroom, his brows furrowing when he didn’t see David. “My youngest son, David, Viscount Penton,” he replied. “But I don’t see him.”
“Ah, yes, he is here. He was in search of my daughter so that he could secure a dance with her. I told him I would allow him two.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Barbara replied. “I wished to tell you I am so sorry for your loss,” she added. “Nicoletta wrote of the contessa’s death in a letter we received whilst in Greece. Her grief was quite evident in her writing.”
“Grazie,” he replied, dipping his head. “Although this is my Vittoria’s come-out ball, I admit to asking Zia Armenia if she might invite some donne non sposate,” he said, referring to unmarried women. “I think it is time I see to marrying again.”
“Then we shouldn’t keep you from your other guests,” Will said, giving the conte a bow. “Thank you for including us in the festivities.”
“Of course. You are family. Do help yourself to refreshments, and enjoy the ball,” Edoardo said, his attention going to another couple that was approaching from the dance floor.
The Slaters and Forsters all bowed and curtsied before they stepped away to line up near the edge of the dance floor.
“What do you suppose has become of David?” Barbara asked.
“He should be easy to see since he’s wearing black,” Will commented, his brow arching when an older couple passed them performing the waltz. The man was wearing a puce top coat and a lime green waistcoat. “Black doesn’t seem to be the color of choice for gentlemen this evening.”
“Except for that man who is speaking with the conte,” Diana murmured, her attention returning to their group as her brows furrowed.
“What is it?” Randy asked, noting her look of confusion.
“The lady dressed in red. With the man in black. She looks...” She paused and shook her head. “Familiar, but... not,” she stammered.
Barbara cast a sweeping glance behind her and around the ballroom. She inhaled softly when she realized the conte and the man in black were no longer in the ballroom. The woman, however, was still there, her gaze sweeping about as if she was in search of someone.
The music suddenly ended, which had those in the circle of dancers returning to the carpet at the edge of the marble floor.
Barbara glanced over at the woman again, and when their eyes met, she blinked. “She looks exactly like the Marchioness of Morganfield,” Barbara whispered.
“Indeed,” Will agreed. “And she’s headed this way.”
Barbara curtsied as did Diana and Helen while the gentlemen were quick to bow.
“My lords, my ladies, please do pardon me for not having greeted you upon your arrival. I am Donna Armenia, and I am supposed to be helping host this affair,” the woman said. “I was detained by another guest, but I believe I caught all your names as you were introduced by the butler.”
“Grazie, my lady. If I might say... you look so familiar,” Barbara commented.
The statuesque woman seemed to consider the comment for a moment before her eyes widened with understanding. “You have met my sister, Adeline Carlington, no doubt. The Marchioness of Morganfield?” she clarified, displaying a hesitant grin.
“Yes, that’s it, of course. Then you are Nicoletta’s aunt?”
“Indeed I am.”
Will reached for Armenia’s hand and kissed the back of it before performing the formal introductions. “Her ladyship left an invitation for us and a note that we should attend this evening,” he explained, motioning to Armenia.
She tittered softly and lowered her voice so only Barbara and Will could hear her next words.
“Nikky and your son should be making their appearance at any moment,” she said, her gaze darting to the top of the stairs.
“He has no idea you have arrived in Roma—at least, Nikky hasn’t told him—as she wished to surprise him with your presence. ”
Barbara inhaled softly. “We wondered when they might come up from Catania,” she said. “But... they’re not at the Villa Montblanc with us,” she added.
“They’re staying at my villa and will join you at their villa on the morrow,” Armenia explained. “It was the only way she could keep you a secret from Donald.”
“Well, we are certainly surprised,” Barbara said. “I’m looking forward to spoiling their new babe. When we last saw Nikky and Donald, she hadn’t yet given birth.”
Armenia grinned in delight. “Amalia is a doll. A rather happy, almost toddling doll. Why, she’ll have all of you wrapped around her tiny pinky before you quite know what’s happened,” she warned.
“We look forward to meeting her,” Will said. “And I wished to thank you for the invitation and the means of transportation for us to attend this evening.”
For a moment, Armenia appeared confused.
“I cannot take credit for what my nipote has done,” she replied, referring to the three coaches that had been sent to the Montblanc residence to transport them to Palazzo D’Avalos.
She directed her gaze to the top of the stairs.
“But you’ll be able thank Nikky directly right now. ”
Everyone turned their attention to the top of the stairs when a trumpet sounded. The butler announced, “Donna Nicoletta, Marchesa Montblanc, and Signore Donald Slater.”
A collective gasp sounded from their group. “They’re here,” Tom and Randy said in unison.