Chapter 30 Brothers Come to an Understanding
Brothers Come to an Understanding
Later that evening, at the same dining table
The faint strains of a piano-forte faded to silence as Donald finished the last of his grappa. He glanced over at his father and arched a brow.
“I think that must be our ladies letting us know they are ready for us in the parlor,” Will said, a grin lighting his face.
“Not a moment too soon,” Randy murmured, a quelling glance directed across and down the table at David.
His cousin had imbibed entirely too much liquor at the end of the extravagant meal, his usual amiable manner and sparkling dinner conversation entirely missing that evening.
In its place was a bitterness aimed at the young lady who had been sitting across from him.
He didn’t seem to realize she had been absent from the table ever since all the women took their leave the hour prior.
To her credit, Lady Vittoria had pretended to ignore him during the entire seven-course meal.
“Apologies,” David whispered. “I know I have not been myself this day,” he admitted.
Seated adjacent to Donald at the mahogany table, Will pushed back and stood. “Apology accepted, but know this, young man. Your manner will be most improved by breakfast, or you shall be remaining behind when we tour the Roman Forum on the morrow.”
David’s glassy eyes widened in alarm. “Uh, yes, sir,” he replied sheepishly.
Randy and Tom stood and followed their uncle out the door, both silent as a lively tune once again sounded from the parlor. Donald and David remained at the table, however.
“Do you wish to talk about whatever it is that has you vexed?” Donald asked his younger brother.
The viscount furrowed his brows. Despite the nearly eight years difference in their ages, the expression made the two appear as if they might be twins. “I did nothing wrong last night,” he stated.
Surprised at the odd response, Donald leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Has someone claimed you did?”
David stared at his brother for a moment as if he might be mad. “Didn’t you hear Lady Vittoria? She... she called me a... a rogue,” he claimed. “And try as I might all day whilst we walked about all those fountains, I could not convince her otherwise.”
One of Donald’s eyebrows arched. “Were you?”
David blinked. “No. I... I tried to help. I followed her and that Don Diavala or... Luciano... whoever he was,” he stammered while waving a hand dismissively. “How was I to know Vittoria could look after herself?”
Donald stared at his brother a moment, his face displaying confusion. “What are you talking about?” he finally asked, as if he thought David’s words were said from a drunken stupor.
“That damned Don Luciano.”
Obviously not expecting the response, Donald nodded. “Now, he is a rake,” he stated.
“Exactly! As soon as Lady Vittoria had been announced and was at the bottom of the stairs, he offered her his arm and escorted her right out of the ballroom and into an alcove,” David explained. “The one with the statue of Apollo.”
“Go on,” Donald urged, his look of alarm apparent as he leaned forward.
“I was about to offer my assistance to the lady, but she ... well, let us just say she must have realized what Luciano intended, for I think she might have damaged the Tucci family jewels with her fist,” he said.
“I managed to do some harm when he suddenly bent over and his face collided with my knee. I think it might have broken his nose.”
“Oh,” Donald whispered in awe.
“And then Apollo delivered the final blow by tumbling off his caryatid. His arrow might have... impaled the conte heir’s crotch.”
Wincing despite the obvious moment of humor he experienced, Donald suddenly barked a laugh.
“Now that is a sight I would have paid good money to see,” he claimed.
“Don Luciano is a well-known libertine, but I’ve never known him to pursue virgins.
Especially at their come-out balls,” he added thoughtfully.
David screwed his face into a grimace, unaware the libertine had such a reputation. “Do you suppose he had something else in mind?”
Although he seemed about to respond, Donald leaned back, his gaze going up to the chandelier above the dining table. “Perhaps,” he whispered.
“What are you thinking?”
Pulled from his brief reverie, Donald glanced towards the door as if to ensure no one else was listening to their conversation. He turned his attention back to David. “There is talk that the Tucci contea is in some trouble. Financial trouble,” he explained.
“Aren’t they all?” David asked before downing the rest of what was in his glass of grappa.
“Surprisingly, no,” Donald replied. “Edoardo is doing rather well despite his father’s mismanagement of the D’Avalos contea,” he added. “And there are others who do well from their vineyards and farms.”
Despite his eyes still appearing glassy from too much drink that evening, David seemed to understand his brother’s hint. “You think Luciano wanted to be caught with Lady Vittoria? So he would be forced to marry her?” he guessed.
Donald nodded. “For her dowry,” he whispered. “I have to reason to believe Edoardo has set aside a rather generous settlement for his only daughter.”
David jerked back as if he had been slapped across the face. “Damnation,” he murmured.
“Damnation is right,” Donald agreed. “But you being there last night—in that alcove—means you were in just as much danger of a false accusation as Don Luciano.”
“From the lady herself,” David groused. “She is convinced my intentions were not honorable when I was merely trying to... to help,” he claimed.
“And if you had been caught with her?”
David blinked. “What are you asking?”
Donald chuckled softly. “Would you do the honorable thing? Take her to wife to save her from ruination?”
His brother’s scoff was loud. “Not now I wouldn’t,” he replied. When he noted how Donald continued to stare at him, as if challenging him, he sighed loudly. “Well, she’s a rather unpleasant creature, in case you haven’t noticed,” he added in a quiet voice.
“I hadn’t,” Donald stated.
David’s responding scoff was quieter. “She’s a shrew, Donald. A spoiled rotten brat, and far too beautiful for her age,” he said as he leaned forward, his arms resting on the tabletop. “Argh.”
“Vittoria cannot help that she is beautiful,” Donald replied.
“You need only look at Donna Armenia and Nicoletta and her cousin, Elizabeth Bennett-Jones, to know that exquisite beauty runs in that family.” He paused before adding, “As for being spoiled, I suppose Edoardo has indulged her. She is his only daughter, after all, and it’s been hard for him since the death of his wife. ”
Screwing his face into a grimace, David sighed. “That doesn’t give her the right to be a shrew.”
Donald covered his mouth with a hand, the crinkling at the edges of his eyes giving away his humor.
“What?” David challenged.
“She is the first, isn’t she?” Donald asked, rubbing his hand over the side of his face as he grinned in delight.
“What are you talking about?”
Donald chuckled. “She is the first woman who hasn’t fallen at your feet and claimed undying love for you,” he said, grinning. “The amiable and lovable Viscount Penton humbled by an Italian aristocrat’s daughter.”
David’s eyes rounded. “Take that back,” he demanded.
Donald sobered, but he shook his head. “You have never been challenged by a woman before, have you?”
A growl sounded from his brother. “In case you’re not aware, and despite my brief betrothal to Lady Jane Fitzsimmons, I’ve not exactly had a lot of opportunities when it comes to women,” David stated.
“I am aware, as I shared that same problem prior to meeting Nicoletta,” Donald countered.
“I intended to use this Grand Tour as a means to... to—”
“Sow your wild oats. To meet lots of young ladies all over Europe and have your way with them,” Donald finished for him.
David furrowed his brows. “Well, not like that,” he responded. “I would have... woo’d them,” he added, before his eyes suddenly rounded. “Is that what you did?”
Donald dipped his head. “I fear our Father instilled in me the need to be extra honorable. Remember, I am the bastard in the family.”
Wincing, David shook his head. “He’s done the same with me. And since he’s been chaperoning our cousins and me during this entire trip—instead of you, I might add—I haven’t exactly had the opportunity to spend time in the company of the other sex,” he complained.
“If you had, would you?” Donald challenged.
Blinking several times, David allowed a long sigh. “I might have spent time at a brothel,” he whispered.
“Probably best for your prick that you didn’t.”
David rolled his eyes and made an odd sound in his throat. “Probably.”
“So...?”
David stared at his brother for a moment. “So... what?”
“Do you love her?”
The query was so unexpected, David straightened in his chair as if he had been struck. “Love who?”
Donald grunted his disbelief. “Vittoria.”
“What?!”
“Do you think you could at least... like her?” he pressed.
“From where is this coming?” David asked in confusion.
Glancing back toward the door, Donald lowered his voice and said, “I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that there has been some... hope that you and Vittoria might consider... courtship,” he stammered.
David blinked several times, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“If I were a female, I would be down there on the floor having just fainted after hearing such a... such a ridiculous suggestion,” he claimed, pointing down to the Turkish carpeting with a forefinger for emphasis. “In fact, I might yet do so.”
“Which, given what you’ve told me, means she is probably about to pass out on the parlor room floor,” Donald said absently.
“What?”
Donald once again glanced in the direction of the door. “I have reason to believe Nikky is discussing the same possibility of courtship with her niece right about now. I was... unaware the two of you were... incompatible.” He rolled his eyes.
David dropped his head to the dining room table and began banging it on the cloth-covered surface. “If I wasn’t so damned amiable, and agreeable, I could still be betrothed to Lady Jane Fitzsimmons,” he murmured. “I could be looking forward to a life—”
“Of extreme boredom,” Donald interrupted.
Straightening in his chair, David appeared a bit unsteady for a moment, his forehead red where it had struck the table. “What?”
It was Donald’s turn to scoff. “Lady Jane Fitzsimmons is perfectly pretty and proper, but you know damned well you would have grown bored if you were ever wed to her. Far better she ended up with Marcus Henley.”
Staring at his brother as if he had grown horns, David shook his head. “So instead of a perfectly proper and pretty young English girl, I’m supposed to marry a shrew?” he countered with disgust.
Donald cleared his throat and leaned forward. “I once thought Nikky a spoiled rotten brat,” he said in a whisper. He arched a brow. “But now I am very happily married to her,” he added, waggling both his brows.
Before David could reply, Donald got to his feet and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To the parlor to collect my gorgeous wife so she can have her way with me in our bedchamber.”
David watched as his brother disappeared, his brows furrowing in confusion as he replayed his brother’s parting words in his head. He finally chuckled softly. “Damnation,” he whispered softly.