Page 35 of Tempted By the English Marquis
Lady Anne left him standing, unacknowledged, while she went to the Duke of Lazio and dipped into a curtsy. After that she headed down the table, stopping to greet every person in the room. Everyone except him. Her message, though not the least bit subtle, was that she would get to her son when she was good and ready.
When Lady Anne finally made her way around the table to where a frustrated and humiliated Gideon stood, she barely gave him a nod. “Lord Holwell.”
He gritted his teeth. Her demeanor matched the one in the letter she had sent to the duke. She bristled with barely controlled fury.
I don’t know why you are angry with me. I am not your husband.
As far as he was aware, he hadn’t committed any crimes against his mother. Though, from the look on her face, the fact that he was standing in Palazzo Lazio was probably as close to high treason in her book as he could get.
I am the one who is meant to be outraged, not you, Mama.
Two could play at this game. Gideon fixed a welcoming smile to his face and bowed low. “Your Grace. I trust you are well. May I wish you a happy and blessed Easter.”
Her gaze slid from him to the others seated around the table. She was checking their faces and testing the mood of the room. “Thank you. And I wish you a happy and blessed Easter also.”
She continued past Gideon and took up a seat farther along the table. He knew his mother and how she played the role of victim only too well. The cold greeting, she had given him couldn’t possibly be followed by a warm embrace. It would take too much power away from her.
Mama is here, but where the devil is Augusta?
He wanted to talk to his sister before their mother got a chance. Resuming his seat, Gideon turned to the one of the few other people at the table he knew for certain spoke fluent English—Nico’s wife, Isabelle.
The contessa gave him a comforting smile. “I expect you are happy to see your mother and are looking forward to a private reunion later this evening.”
Nico must have warned his wife about the situation, and Isabelle was doing what she could to support Gideon. He was grateful for her efforts at continuing the fiction of the happy Kembal family.
“Yes. Very much. It’s been too long. Mama can be a little shy when it comes to public displays of affection. But I am surprised that my sister Lady Augusta is not here.”
“I expect she and Serafina are still out somewhere in the city. They were with the family earlier in the day when we attended the Easter blessing at Saint Peter’s Basilica, but they said they were going to take a walk along the river before they returned home. There was meant to be fireworks not far from Castel Sant’Angelo a little while ago. I expect they decided to stay and watch them.” Isabelle leaned in close to Gideon and gave a brief nod in the direction of Serafina’s mother. “Though if they arrive home anytime later than midnight, you will get to see why no one gave a second glance at your mother’s display of temper when she arrived earlier. Serafina will be in for a tongue lashing from her mother. Donna Francesca is very much like the duchess—only the reckless and unwise ever dare to cross her.”
Gideon made a mental note to never get on the wrong side of the contessa. He was already in enough trouble when it came to his own mother; he didn’t need any more enemies.
But he did want to see his sister. And Serafina.
ChapterEighteen
“Hurry up, Augusta. My mother is already going to skin me alive; we don’t need yours to step into the fight,” said Serafina.
She had paid her bodyguards a few extra coins to turn a blind eye while she and Augusta had slipped away to catch up with friends after the fireworks. But time had caught up with them and her promise to be home this side of midnight had not been kept.
Serafina pushed open the gate which led into one of the smaller private gardens of Palazzo Lazio. It was a tried and tested way to slip into the palace without being seen. From the garden, it was just a short dash up some stairs reserved for the use of household servants, then a brisk walk along a narrow hallway and into the safety of one of the rarely used second floor sitting rooms.
She cunningly kept a sampler of needlework hidden in a drawer, so that if anyone found her, she could rightly claim she had been working on perfecting her stitches.
A huffing, inebriated Augusta followed her through the gate. “I was just enjoying the fireworks. It’s not my fault one of your friends asked us to come and share a glass or three of wine with them.”
“I know. It’s my fault. I should have said no, but I was caught up in the moment. If you get into trouble, you can lay the blame at my feet.”
It was Easter. Rome was full of people and life. Serafina had wanted to enjoy the vibrant city, not sit at home, and endure yet another afternoon of her mother’s disapproving looks. Or worse, her lectures on how an about-to-be married woman should behave. There would be plenty of time for Serafina to learn those harsh lessons later.
“I just wish I could be allowed to have both. Be out having a wonderful time, while staying in Donna Francesca’s good graces,” replied Serafina.
Yes, and if the moon was made of cheese, we would all be happy.
They crossed the short patch of grass and walked onto the stone path. If anyone happened across them, they could simply declare they had been home for some time and were out enjoying the fresh air. Serafina prayed they would remain undetected. It was hard to convince people with a hastily made up lie when you were swaying unsteadily on your feet.
Inside the palace, stifling giggles as they went, they made their way up to the second floor. Serafina pushed open the door of the sitting room. Sanctuary beckoned.
She came to a sudden halt, and Augusta crashed into her with a loud“oof.”
