A much-harried Antonio bustled back out to greet them. “Signora Shipley e Signora Rosalind, benvenuti,I am Antonio the butler. Lady Darling and Lord Langsford await you in the library, where tea is being served.”
“Antonio, thank you. Blossom and I will be delighted to join them, if you would please lead the way.”
Antonio bowed, smiling. “Come this way. I will see that your things are taken to your rooms.”
“That will be much appreciated.” Constance and Blossom linked arms and followed a much happier Antonio into the house.
The contrast between these ladies and the previous couldn’t be more apparent. The American art collector displayed a happy countenance, a good nature, and a polite bearing, while the baroness was brusque, bossy, and overbearing.
Gabriella picked up her basket and sighed. It was time to get back to the kitchen. She only wished she could see the interaction between Jack and Cynthia. Maybe then she could face reality and banish her yearning for him for good.
It would never have worked anyway. Even if Cynthia wasn’t in the picture, even if he didn’t have to battle for his birthright, their backgrounds couldn’t be more different. And the biggest matzo ball of all was they were from two different centuries.Talk about a long-distance relationship!The sooner she accepted that fact, the easier it would be to survive.
*
Jack gazed intohis teacup as if the dregs could conjure up some vision for him to divine. When he’d returned to the house late last night, Mrs. Livingstone had been waiting up for him to give him the news—Gaby had quit his rooms and was now staying in the servants’ quarters.
He’d been tempted to go upstairs, flip her over his shoulder, and bring her back to his bed, where she belonged. But he knew how that would end. And so, he’d slept miserably in his lonely bed. Even though Mrs. Livingstone had changed the sheets, Gaby’s scent of lemon and freshly tilled garden after rainfall still lingered in his chamber.
His nerves were on edge. He couldn’t bear the thought of her living in such meager circumstances, but there was nothing to be done about it, at least not yet. Traveling the world and working on archeological digs had taught him to appreciate how other cultures lived. Luxury was something he enjoyed but could easily live without.
A vision did pop into his head, one of Gaby lying gloriously nude on his bedroll in his tent in Egypt. What a sight, indeed! He’d seen her disheveled, her clothing in wet tatters when he rescued her, but it didn’t take much for him to imagine what she’d look like naked with those luscious, dark waves cascading around her shoulders and those pouty nipples playing peekaboo through her curls.
Damn!He needed to calm down, or he’d soon be sporting a raging erection. He almost barked out a laugh as he realized the teacup had given him a vision after all—a vision of a dark-haired Italian-American beauty who haunted his days and nights.
Aunt Kitty raised her teacup to her lips. “You’ve hardly said a word today, Jack. You have many unaccountable behaviors, but silence is not one of them.”
He looked at her as if hearing her for the first time. “I’m simply pondering the importance of Cynthia’s arrival and the formality of asking her to marry me.”
Aunt Kitty’s eyes met his over the rim of her cup, and he saw that familiar gleam of mischief in her gaze. “Yes, I’m sure it preys on your mind. Your rogue bachelor days nearly being at an end must be somewhat startling, and perhaps even terrifying.”
He chuckled. “You and I both know that is all rumor and innuendo. Beauford might as well have accused me of stealing the crown jewels or seducing Queen Alexandria.”
“Heaven forbid! You have enough troubles without inviting Bertie’s wrath. He’d probably see you swinging from the gallows.”
Jack held his tongue but thought King Edward would probably be grateful for keeping the queen occupied and her attention off his well-known dalliances.
The door opened, and the baroness and Cynthia swept into the room, making a grand entrance.
Jack rose to his feet, and the baroness held her hand for him to kiss. “We are finally delivered from our wearisome journey. Lord Langsford, Lady Darling, how delightful to see you again.”
Jack lightly bussed the proffered hand and then turned to Cynthia, took her hand, and bent to place a chaste kiss on it. “It is nice to see you again, Cynthia.” The young woman, as always, reminded him of a pale lily—white, thin, and far too delicate. The contrast between her and Gaby was like the difference between night and day.
He took a deep breath, tamping down his frustration. He was determined to do what was best for the future of the earldom.
“I am pleased to see you, Lord Langsford,” Cynthia said in a soft voice, barely meeting his eyes. “The sea view is so lovely, I—”
The sound of laughter and the door opening left Cynthia’s comment dangling and unfinished. Stefano strode in with Constance on his arm and her companion close behind. The trio was chatting animatedly and with good humor.
“Ladies, I am delighted we can share this time together before traveling to Florence,” Stefano said. “It will give us a wonderful opportunity to strategize how to expand your collection, Constance, especially after that terrible loss of your Allegretto.”
“Think nothing of it, Stefano. The important thing is that no one was hurt. Besides, the painting was well insured, and I recovered my investment,” said Constance, waving her hand and dismissing the subject.
Stefano approached Kitty with Constance on his arm. “Dear Lady Darling, I found these two lovely ladies wandering around. It seems our gathering is growing.” He introduced everyone to each other, adding colorful commentary to each introduction. Everyone agreed to drop the formality of titles and address each other by first names. Kitty invited everyone to sit and partake of the freshly brewed tea and the pastries Antonio had rolled in on a three-tiered cart.
Jack exchanged pleasantries with everyone, but he was particularly intrigued with the American heiress. He’d heard she’d settled in Paris some years ago and frequently traveled throughout Europe, visiting auction houses and galleries or seeking out private sales of paintings and unique pieces to add to her collection. The woman radiated warmth and charm, yet Jack could see a keen awareness and a sharp intelligence in her eyes.
Her companion, the French woman named Blossom, was even more intriguing. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her tinted spectacles made it challenging to discern what she was thinking. Her simple gray dress was modest compared to Constance’s elegant blue silk ensemble that included a jaunty jacket with a ruffled neckline and priceless pearls. Blossom dimmed in comparison, yet something was arresting about her, an intensity of purpose that her modest appearance could not diminish. It was as though she were purposely hiding behind a drab costume. Jack’s curiosity was piqued.
