Chapter 12
A Walk is a Bit Bumpy
Meanwhile...
Arm-in-arm, Nicoletta and Donald and their guests departed the courtyard of Palazzo D’Avalos and headed in the direction of the river. Once again, David was forced to offer his arm to Vittoria when his uncle and cousins paired up with their wives.
Vittoria allowed an audible sigh but threaded her arm through his elbow. “Are you sure you wish to be seen in the company of a tart?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.
David gave a start, surprised she would even speak to him. “I’m not sure if you are aware, but tarts come both sweet and sour,” he said.
She furrowed her dark brows. “What are you saying?”
Chuckling softly, he said, “I have a confession to make.”
“There is a church very close,” she countered, waving a gloved hand in the direction of a gothic building featuring a pair of ornate spires.
For a moment, David was confused until he realized she was speaking of a confessional in a Catholic church. “No, not that sort of confession. One meant only for you,” he replied.
She inhaled softly. “Tell me,” she urged.
David cleared his throat, his gaze going from her to the building they were passing.
“Had I arrived to the ball only a few minutes earlier than I did last night, I might have employed tactics similar to those that had Signore Luciano leading you to that alcove.” He paused them a moment so he could study the architecture of the buildings on both sides of the narrow lane in which they walked.
Vittoria narrowed her eyes. “So... you admit you are a rogue?”
He waggled his brows as if to reinforce words that could only confirm her suspicions about him being a rake.
“Only to suffer the same fate as him?” she went on, a look of triumph suffusing her face.
“Had I been the one joining you in that alcove, you would have been enjoying the encounter, I assure you,” he claimed. “You would not have given a thought to injuring my person, but then, I would have made sure your indiscretion went unnoticed by everyone in attendance.”
Vittoria huffed. “You… you insufferable—”
“I prefer my tarts sweet, by the way,” David added, a grin bringing a dimple to his lower left cheek.
“Then I suppose I must be sure to be forever sour in your—”
“Oh, Vittoria, shall we show our guests our favorite staircase?” The query came from Nicoletta, who, with her husband, was walking alongside Donald’s parents. Behind them were Randy, Diana, Tom, and Helen. Several in their party looked back at Vittoria.
She blinked. “Sì. Perhaps someone will enjoy a dip in the fountain there,” she replied, directing a glare at David.
He gasped. “I have not found the heat especially oppressive, but if you’re feeling faint, my lady, I could certainly assist you in a thorough dousing if you’d like.”
Vittoria’s mouth dropped open as her eyes turned to slits. “You wouldn’t dare,” she countered in a hoarse whisper.
“Continue to test me, and I’ll...” Although he seemed about to continue, David suddenly sobered when he noticed Randy had turned to glare at him.
“You are correct. I would not.” He didn’t add that he could certainly allow his imagination to come up with a suitable image that would keep him entertained should he ever be bored—Vittoria D’Avalos, sitting in the middle of a marble fountain, not only drenched, but suffering the indignity of a nearby statue peeing on her.
Not on her head, though. He found her coiffure especially fetching, the single lock of hair on her shoulder making him wish he could slide his hand beneath it so he could feel the silken strands against his bare skin.
Perhaps he really did need to seek out a priest in a confessional.
The two ceased their conversation as they followed the others to the Piazza Trinità dei Monti and the Spanish Steps.
“David and Vittoria seem to be conversing rather well,” Nicoletta said, her comment directed to her husband.
“That is no surprise to me,” Donald replied. “Everyone finds David rather amiable. I’m not sure what you have in mind for them, though.”
Nicoletta grinned as she squeezed his arm. “I think they would make a perfect match,” she claimed. “Don’t you?”
Donald made an odd sound in his throat. “Your niece and my brother?” he asked in disbelief.
Although he hadn’t been a witness to whatever Vittoria claimed had occurred the night before, her assessment of David had convinced Donald the girl wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.
The fact that David was even sporting enough to escort her on this day had him realizing his younger brother was more mature than he had been when they departed on their trip from England only two years prior.
He remembered a time when he had been on his own Grand Tour—it hadn’t even been ten years ago!—and he had wanted nothing more than to seek out female companionship. A chance to sow his wild oats. Then he had met Nicoletta in Catania, and all thoughts of other possible liaisons had dissipated.
Given David’s age and the fact that he had already been betrothed had Donald believing his brother would prefer to explore Rome on his own with an entirely different agenda than the one they were pursuing on this day.
One that included young ladies, and not of the aristocratic sort.
Nicoletta glanced over at Barbara, who was pretending not to overhear their exchange. “What, pray tell, do you think of Vittoria?” she asked.
Barbara arched a brow, her attention briefly darting to her husband to discover his attention was directed at the building they were passing. “She is a lovely young lady who will no doubt cause my David a good deal of trouble,” she replied, her lip quirked. “I saw how he watched her last night.”
“I fear I might have overheard words suggesting they were… annoyed with one another,” Donald murmured, glancing back to see the two in question had fallen behind their group. From the way their heads were bent, it was apparent they were speaking to one another, and not in a pleasant manner.
“Annoyed?” Nicoletta repeated. “Do you suppose he missed his dance with her?”
“No. I saw them dancing,” he said.
The marchesa inhaled softly. “Are you quite sure?”
He nodded. “A surprise, I know, since our niece’s dance card was quite full. I believe their words were exchanged well before she took her first dance partner. Mayhap before we even made our appearance at the ball.”
Nicoletta paused at a stone bench and lifted a dainty foot to rest it on the edge. Donald was quick to check the fastenings of her half-boot to see they were fine. He couldn’t help but notice her attention was on her niece, though.
“Are we pretending something?” he asked in a hoarse whisper, his gaze following hers to see that David and Vittoria had fallen even further behind their party.
From the way the young woman’s hands waved about—she wasn’t even hanging onto David’s arm—he knew they were engaged in an argument of some sort.
Nicoletta lowered her foot to the bricks making up the street and lifted her other foot to the edge of the bench. “Sì, and you’re performing your part perfectly,” she murmured.
“Grazie,” Donald replied, grinning when Diana and Helen mimicked what his wife was doing, their husbands quick to check their footwear for embedded stones. He angled his head in the youngest couple’s direction. “We’d best let them have their disagreement,” he murmured.
“I’m not sure whom I should be more worried about,” Diana whispered. “Although I know David can hold his own in an argument, I don’t believe that’s quite what’s happening.”
“Lady Vittoria truly believes David is a rogue,” Helen remarked.
“And she’s being a shrew about it,” Donald said on a huff. He turned to see a look of shock on his wife’s face. “Apologies, my sweet. but I’ve never seen her behave like this.”
Nicoletta sighed her disappointment. “No need to apologize, darling. I am well aware something must have happened last night to have them behaving so.” She allowed another sigh. “I was so hoping they might make a match.”
Donald blinked in alarm but didn’t reply.