“Marry you?”he asked, his eyes wide.“In a heartbeat.”
She sighed contentedly.“And what sort of ring would you give me?”She held up her left hand, the ruby and diamond ring glittering when it caught a beam of light from the window.
“Oh, I see what this is about,” he said, chuckling.Leaning over, he opened the drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a wrapped package.“I was saving this for our anniversary, but I believe now is a better time to put it on your other hand,” he said, giving her the box.
She inhaled softly, her gaze going from him to the box and back again.“You remembered,” she whispered.
“Of course I remembered,” he replied.“How could I forget the second best day of my life?”
“Second best?”she repeated, scoffing softly.
He saw her look of hurt and grinned.“The first was the day you accompanied me on the tour of all those fountains.The first day I kissed you.The first day I made love to you,” he said.“Before that, I would have had to say it was the day my son was born.”
She dipped her head, her attention on the box.“I am honored,” she murmured.
“You can open it.I think you will like it,” he said, motioning to the ring box.
Armenia opened the hinged box as if she thought whatever was inside might jump out at her.She gasped.“A sapphire ring,” she said in awe.“It’s enormous.”
“With diamonds,” he said, arching a brow.He grinned as she slid it onto the fourth finger of her right hand.“I wanted you to have a gemstone that matched your ruby but in a contrasting color,” he explained.
“Oh, Patrick,” she said on a sigh.“It’s gorgeous,” she said, holding up both hands with her thumbs pressed together.She wiggled her fingers.“You do realize you’re not going to the office in the next hour,” she said as she climbed back onto the bed.
Patrick chuckled and settled back onto the mattress.“Do your worst,mia donna,” he whispered.
“Oh, I intend to do mybest,SignoreMcAdams.”
It was noon before Patrick made it to the office.
Meanwhile, at Devonville House in Mayfair
Will regarded the pile of correspondence on the silver salver his butler had set on the edge of his desk and sighed.Although he and Barbara enjoyed the entertainments available now that they were living in Mayfair, there were times he wished they could simply remain at Devonville House and enjoy a quiet evening with Nancy.
The girl had excelled at learning English and had taken a liking to herpiano-fortélessons, the lively notes of her practice reaching him despite the music room being at the opposite end of the house.
He pulled a missive from the pile on the salver, immediately recognizing the even print of his oldest grandson.It wasn’t addressed to him, though, but rather to Nancy.The thirteen-year-olds exchanged letters on such a frequent basis, he had been forced to ensure David budgeted enough to cover the postage—for the letters from Antony as well as for those Vittoria received from Nicoletta and Armenia.
About to call for the butler to have him deliver the letter, he discovered he didn’t need to—Nancy was standing on the threshold to his study waiting to gain his attention.Since their initial return from Rome, she had grown at least twelve inches and wore her hair in what could only be described as a tumble of dark curls.Although Barbara frequently fussed over its inability to stay put in a coiffure, he continually reminded her the girl was only thirteen.She doesn’t need to look as if she’s attending her first ball when she comes to dinner, he would say, only to be met with sighs of frustration.And neither do you.If Barbara wasn’t quick on her feet, he would have enough pins pulled from her graying hair so her locks would fall past her shoulders, leaving her complaining about her ruined hair even as she tittered in delight when he attempted to nibble her ear.
What came after had him grinning with self-satisfaction.
“Pardon, Papa, but is there news from Catania?”
Will chuckled and held up the letter.“Indeed.There’s one for you from Antony,” he said, holding it out in her direction.“I haven’t even had a chance to read it,” he added, implying he regularly read her correspondence before giving it to her.
She ran to his desk and plucked the missive from his hand.“Far better that you don’t,” she said.
Giving a start, Will asked, “Is my grandson writing impertinent notes these days?”
Nancy screwed up her face into look of confusion.“Impertinent?”she questioned, her dark brows furrowing.“I don’t know what that means.”
“Good,” Will said.“I feared the marchese might already be sending you love notes,” he added, his manner rather jovial.He pursed his lips and made kissing noises.
“Love notes?”she repeated, her manner entirely serious.
“Yes.With claims of how much he wishes to kiss you when you next see one another,” he said, pulling another missive from the pile.He didn’t notice her expression of guilt when he added, “Here.Give this one toNonna.It’s from Nikky,” he said.“Probably word of another impending grandchild,” he murmured, secretly glad for his oldest son.Donald enjoyed fatherhood as much as Nicoletta did being a mother.
Nancy took the note from him, dipped a curtsy, and hurried out of the study.
