Page 2 of Tempted By the English Marquis
A reluctant Gideon followed his mother into the formal drawing room. He could manage five minutes. Years of social gatherings had equipped him with the ability to down a glass of wine swiftly while maintaining his manners.
His mind drifted elsewhere, but his gaze was focused on the back of the silver evening gown worn by the duchess. When she came to a halt, Gideon stirred, lifting his head.
He caught sight of two dark-haired gentlemen standing, talking to his father. From the look of them, and their manner of dress, they were not English. Gideon had just ventured a guess that they might be French when one of the men spoke.
“Is this your son, Your Grace? He looks like you.” The Italian accent was unmistakable. It wasn’t just the elegant way the gentleman rounded the curves of his words; it was the speed with which he spoke.
The Duke of Mowbray, Clifford Kembal, beckoned his son over. “Gideon, come meet Count Nico de Luca and his cousin Matteo.”
What followed was a quick dance of bowing and handshaking, and a sharing of smiles. He might well wish to be out of the house and on his way to the party, but Gideon would never be so crass as to disappoint his father when greeting guests.
“So, what brings you two gentlemen to London?” he asked.
Count de Luca, who was the shorter of the two—though both men were well over six feet—nodded to the duke. “We were just telling your father about our shipping business. The de Luca family has been involved in the Mediterranean sea trade for several hundred years. Our company has offices near the new London Docks at Wapping.”
“And I was telling the count and Signore de Luca about your Uncle Charles and the Saunders Shipping Company being based at the North Quay warehouses,” added Clifford.
Gideon’s uncle on his mother’s side was a French émigré and had established a successful import and export business in London. Gideon’s cousin Francis worked with his father in the company, and they had plans for Francis to take it over when Charles eventually retired.
“I went to school here in England when I was young, my mother was born here. Our family knows the Duke and Duchess of Strathmore. And my wife was English,” said the count.
That would explain his near flawless grasp of the language.
“I’m sorry for the loss of your wife,” said Gideon.
Nico and Matteo looked at one another, then Nico softly laughed. “My wife, Isabelle, is very much alive and well. When I said she had been English, I meant she became Italian when we married. If she wasn’t heavy with our first child, she would have made the journey with me.”
Gideon caught his father’s eye and the look of expectation which sat on the duke’s face. He silently cursed his bad fortune in not having earlier made it successfully out the house. Having assumed he wouldn’t be meeting them, he hadn’t bothered to find out anything about these gentlemen. Guests having to explain who they were and their connections to the family only served to highlight Gideon’s apparent lack of social graces.
I should have greeted them by name, not stood like a statue while Papa had to make the introductions. What a clod.
“When Nico decided to come to England, he invited one of my younger sisters and myself to join him. Who would be foolish enough to pass up the chance to come to see the great city of London?” Matteo asked.
Matteo de Luca gestured to the other side of the room. Gideon glanced over his shoulder. His mother, sisters Augusta, Coco, and Victoria, and another young woman he didn’t recognize were chatting amongst themselves near the window. The duchess was pointing to something in the garden and the group appeared genuinely interested.
Mama has always been able to hold a room.
“That is my sister Serafina. She has been most eager to learn and practice her English. On the boat from Rome, she spent hours studying the phrase book and getting Nico to engage in . . . how do you say? Polite conversation,” said Matteo.
“Serafina is going to be staying with us while her cousin and brother are busy with business meetings. She might be closer in age to Victoria, but it would appear that she and Augusta have hit it off right away,” said the duke.
Gideon studied the back of the young Italian woman, taking in her long glossy black hair. She was dressed in a dusky pink gown, which flowed elegantly from her slim shoulders all the way to the top of the cream shawl she had draped over both arms.
If she was around his sister Victoria’s age, that would make Signorina de Luca likely about eighteen or nineteen years old. A touch too young for Gideon’s taste. He found most girls at that age either acted giggly and silly around men or worse—they had been trained as husband hunters by their fortune-seeking mamas. Thehaut tonhadn’t dubbed them simpering misses without good reason.
In his opinion, it was only as they got closer to the time when marriage became a part of their future plans, that young women discovered a sense of self-regard. A certain steadiness of mind, which a wife needed to possess.
Not that Gideon had the slightest intention of marrying anytime soon. The Marquis of Holwell was far too busy living the riotous life of a young, wealthy nobleman. When it came to wild oats, he had plenty of them left to sew.
He had a role to play in ensuring the line of ducal succession would be fulfilled, but with a still healthy father, and two strapping younger brothers to help secure the bloodline, Gideon was in no particular hurry to wed.
And as much as it vexed his mother, he also didn’t consider any of the current crop of eligible misses to be worthy of his attention. He would find a wife when he was good and ready.
“Excuse me for a moment,” said Clifford. The duke crossed the floor to where the women were gathered and spoke briefly to his wife. Lady Anne’s gaze settled on Gideon, and she nodded.
They are going to make the final introductions. Excellent. I shall give it a few minutes and then I can take my leave. I have a drunken soiree to attend.
He was still considering which of his lady acquaintances might be up for a midnight rendezvous in a carriage in Hyde Park when his mother approached. Behind her trailed her three daughters. His view of the young Italian woman was obscured by his sisters Victoria and Coco, who preceded Serafina and Augusta.
