Chapter 37
A Detour Provides Privacy
A few minutes later
Once the coaches and barouche merged into the midday traffic of Rome, David surreptitiously glanced at his pocket watch.
Sitting opposite him in the barouche, Armenia asked, “Might you know the time, mio don?”
“Half past two o’clock, mia donna,” he replied.
Armenia’s eyes widened. “Oh, dear. Would you two mind very much if I had the coachman take me home directly? I have an appointment soon, and I really must change clothes.”
Vittoria glanced over at her great aunt, her eyes widening. “Shall we have the coachman wave down one of the other coaches?”
“Whatever for?” Armenia asked.
“If we take you home straight away...” She directed a pointed glance at David. “I won’t have a chaperone.”
Armenia lifted a shoulder, but she turned her attention to David and said, “May I trust you’ll be on your very best behavior with my niece, young man?”
David was about to turn around to tap the coachman’s arm when he noticed her wink at him.
He hesitated with his response, uncertain if she had done so deliberately or if she merely had something in her eye.
“Of course, mia donna. Donna Vittoria rode with me yesterday after our walking tour. She can vouch for me.” He didn’t wait for Vittoria to say anything, turning on the bench to capture the coachman’s attention. “Villa D’Avalos, signore.”
The coachman acknowledged the change of destination, and David turned around to discover Armenia and Vittoria whispering behind an open fan.
Pretending he didn’t notice, David simply aimed his gaze at the passing scenery, eventually recognizing buildings they had passed the day before. “Do you live close to Piazza Navona, mia donna?”
“I do,” she replied.
“Zia Armenia lives in a villa the family has owned for many generations,” Vittoria claimed. “We worry about her, though,” she said, as if Armenia wasn’t sitting right next to her. “Living there all by herself.”
The barouche slowed, and the tiger jumped down to open the wrought iron gate leading into the courtyard.
David studied what he could see of the house. From his brief perusal, he knew the property was well-maintained despite its age.
A reminder of that morning’s encounter with the American Patrick McAdams had him grinning. “I rather doubt she’s going to be living there by herself much longer,” he replied.
“Whatever are you talking about?” Armenia asked, her dark brows furrowed in confusion.
“Oh, apologies, mia donna. I was merely remembering how Signore McAdams regarded you during the ball the other night,” David explained. “I do believe he’s in love with you.”
Vittoria gasped, her eyes rounding as she regarded her aunt with surprise. Armenia appeared momentarily stunned. “Who is Signore McAdams?” Vittoria asked, her query directed at her aunt.
“An American,” Armenia replied, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “His business is textiles,” she added.
“In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he paid a call on you this evening bearing...” David paused, realizing he really shouldn’t give away Mr. McAdams’ intentions. “Gifts,” he finished lamely.
Armenia blinked, her face displaying a blush. “You said that as if you are privy to his plans, mio don,” she accused. “Rather cheeky of you.”
“I suppose so. My apologies,” David replied.
“Still...” He clamped his mouth shut, struggling with how much he should say.
He wanted to help the American in his pursuit of Lady Armenia, and he knew Patrick wasn’t certain as to how she would react to his proposal, but he didn’t want to undermine the man’s attempts at courtship before he even had a chance to make a good impression on the spinster.
The coachman opened the door and held out a hand with the intention of assisting Armenia from the barouche. David scrambled out of the equipage first, though, and he turned and offered his hand instead.
Armenia placed her gloved hand in his and accompanied him to the front door of the villa. Before the butler had the door opened, David whispered, “He wants to spend the rest of his life with you, mia donna.”
Reacting as if he had slapped her across the face, Armenia blinked several times. “And you?”
Confused, David gave his head a shake. “Me?”
“Are you going to spend the rest of your life with her?” Armenia nodded in the direction of Vittoria.
It was David’s turn to react, and he chuckled softly. “That all depends, mia donna.”
“On what?” she challenged.
David glanced in the direction of the barouche, not surprised to see Vittoria watching them with curiosity.
“Well, first I have to make her like me,” he said.
“I would really prefer a match based on mutual affection, you see.” He dipped his head.
“Tell me, is it entirely inappropriate for a man to arrange for a pair of half-boots to be made for a young lady?”
Armenia once again blinked. “Have you already ordered them?”
He nodded. “I’m going to fetch them now.”
She displayed a grin of delight. “I won’t tell if you won’t, and might I suggest you sit next to her in the barouche?”
David nodded. “Grazie, mia donna.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I hope you’ll give Mr. McAdams a chance to make you happy.”
Her eyes widening at hearing David’s comment, Armenia didn’t have a chance to put voice to an answer when he bowed and rushed back to the barouche.
When David reached the barouche, he murmured the address of the shoemaker to the coachman. Climbing into the equipage, he took Armenia’s seat next to Vittoria as the coachman closed the door.
“Donna Armenia told me I should sit next to you,” he said, before Vittoria could put voice to a protest.
“She told me I was to allow you to do whatever you wished,” she countered.
David blinked. “Uh... really?”
“Almost as if she wants you to ruin me.” Despite hearing David’s scoff of disbelief, she allowed a huff. “I cannot blame her. She agreed to help with my come-out and to see to it I was successful at landing a husband,” Vittoria said sadly. “The sooner that’s accomplished, the better for her.”
David shifted on the bench when the horses pulled the barouche out of the courtyard and into the street. “I don’t believe that’s her motivation,” he argued. “In fact, she has your very best interests at heart, mia donna.”
“How do you mean?” she challenged.
David pulled one of her hands into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “If I give you the answer, I’ll sound like a braggart. I am a gentleman, and so you will have to ask her directly for her reasoning.”
Vittoria inhaled softly. “She is not wrong, mio don. You will one day be a marquess—”
“Probably when I am well past fifty years old—”
“—Your family is wealthy—”
“Probably, but I intend to learn for certain when I take over as the man of business for the marquessate.”
“Marrying you would be a sort of prize.”
He turned to regard Vittoria with a look of confusion. “I’ve never thought of myself as a prize, but I suppose in a transactional sort of arrangement, I would be.” He said this last on a sigh of disappointment and followed it with a rude sound from his throat.
“I am only a prize because of my dowry,” she replied.
David scoffed loudly. “Hardly. You’re gorgeous.
You are far wiser than most girls your age.
Able to defend yourself against the worst of our sex.
” He paused before adding, “And you’ve grown up in an aristocratic household, so you already know what’s expected of you when it comes to being a. .. a helpmate and a mother.”
Vittoria stared at him in wonder for a moment and seemed about to reply when she suddenly straightened on the bench, her gaze darting about. “Where are we going?” she asked in alarm.
“Oh, uh... I asked the coachman to stop at a particular shop so that I might collect an order I placed this morning.”
She slowly settled back against the squabs. “What sort of order?”
David shifted on the bench, turning his body so he was at an angle to better face her. “Before I answer that, might I ask about the half-boots you’re wearing today?”
She blinked at the sudden change of topic. “What about them?”
“I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t limping today,” he replied.
She straightened one leg so the hem of her hunter green walking gown fell onto the top of her ankle, exposing the half-foot.
The brown leather was well worn and far softer than the leather of the black half-boots she had worn the day before.
“Different boots,” she stated. “I would have worn these yesterday, but my lady’s maid insisted I wear the black because the color of my gown required it.
” She didn’t own any other color that would have worked with the azure blue walking gown she had worn the day before. .
“Good,” he replied.
“Good?” she repeated. The barouche stopped in an area where several streets intersected. She glanced around as David stood from his seat.
“Sì,” he said. “Would you like to come along? I’ll only be a moment, but I’d rather not leave you here by yourself.”
She stood and followed him out of the barouche, gripping his hand as she took the two steps down to the pavement and glanced around. “Where are we?”
“Via Pellegrino,” he replied. He offered his arm, and she took it.
Still glancing about in an effort to determine if she had ever been to this part of Rome, Vittoria finally gave up and simply followed him along a thin street.
At the fourth shop on the right, he opened the door for her, and the unmistakeable scents of leather and polish assaulted her nostrils. “You ordered boots?” she guessed.
“I did,” he replied, grinning. A dimple appeared in the base of one cheek, and she had to resist the urge to poke a finger into it.
The calzolai recognized David immediately and bowed to Vittoria. “Benvenuti,” he said before calling out to one of his children. The daughter appeared with the half-boots, her eyes widening in delight at seeing Vittoria. “Per Lei,” she said, holding out the footwear. For you.