Page 39 of Tempted By the English Marquis
A servant escorted him back to his room. And while the man didn’t speak a word of English, with a bit of pointing and nodding, they managed to get things sorted. Gideon politely refused the offer to have the bath in his suite filled with hot water. Much as he yearned for a long soak, he was too exhausted to be bothered. He promised himself he would indulge in a bath tomorrow morning. The deep tub looked the perfect place for him to gather his thoughts before finally meeting with his mother and sister.
His clothes had been taken away to be laundered—something for which he was most grateful. Every single garment in his travel trunk bore the stale scent of damp sea air and salt. There was even mold inside his favorite pairs of shoes. He would follow up with Count Nico and enquire about a gentlemen’s tailor.
Gideon had decided he liked having lost the extra pounds. He figured that if he invested in a new wardrobe, it might inspire him to keep them off.
His welcome had been an odd one to say the least. Nico and Isabelle had been warm and friendly. The Duke had also been kind. But Gideon couldn’t say the same for Enzo and Francesca de Luca, and more disappointingly, his own mother.
I wish I could have caught up with G tonight. I am so looking forward to seeing her.
One of his real concerns was Augusta’s state of mind. How was she coping? What had Lady Anne told his sister, and did she agree with their mother’s decision to separate from the duke?
Does she even know?
It was still so difficult, impossible, to think that his parents had become estranged. That his mother was, for all intents and purposes, happily living thousands of miles away from home while at the same time his father barely had a grip on his sanity.
His anger and resentment toward the duchess continued to simmer in Gideon’s blood. Her refusal to speak to him this evening had only added fuel to the fire.
I want to understand what has happened.
He loved both his parents; he didn’t want to take sides. Lady Anne was making it increasingly difficult for Gideon to stay impartial.
“I’ve only seen what this has done to Papa. I don’t know the crime he has committed against her,” he muttered.
The ornately carved bed sitting close to the window beckoned. Its red and gold silk coverlet whispered the promise of a long night’s sleep.
His brain, however, had other ideas. It wouldn’t shut off. Thoughts and emotions rolled around at a frantic pace.
“I really ought to try and get some sleep.”
Shrugging out of his jacket, Gideon flopped onto the end of the bed. It had been a long day. The relief he had felt at finally arriving in Rome was dampened somewhat by the sense that his presence at the palace was not entirely welcome.
I shall give it a day. If the de Lucas are still standoffish, I will seek a suitable hotel.
His preference would be to take his mother and sister away from Lazio Palace, and then begin the arrangements for their boat trip home. From the way his mother had been behaving this evening, he doubted that was going to be as simple as it sounded.
Closing his eyes, he lay back on the bed, sighing as the soft feather mattress welcomed him with its gentle embrace. With his hands resting on his stomach, Gideon silently prayed that sleep would overcome his troubled mind.
When his eyelids fluttered open a few minutes later, he knew he wasn’t in for such luck. He was overtired. And sleep had always eluded him whenever he was too fatigued.
The frown on Gideon’s face transformed into a gentle smile as he took in the ornate ceiling which soared overhead. Nearly every inch of it was covered in a large fresco, painted in a muted palette of dusty green, gold, and rust red. The colors of the earth.
Judging by the highly detailed images of people gathered around drinking and eating, the theme was clearly one of celebration. In the background of the painting was a rustic landscape with tall cypress trees and a road which led up to a red-stone villa.
I wonder if that is an actual place or just something the artist created from his imagination. If it’s real, it would be wonderful to visit.
As a child, Gideon had spent many happy hours studying the extravagantly decorated summer and winter ballrooms at Strathmore House, his mother’s family home in London. His favorite was the ceiling of the summer ballroom. It was decorated with a gilt grid, and in each section, animals and people enacted a series of stories on a colored background. The design was meant to test a person’s knowledge of Aesop’s ancient fables.
For those who didn’t know them, there was a separate panel on one of the walls which explained each fable. Included were stories of the boy who cried wolf, and the goose which laid the golden egg.
The fresco in his room at Palazzo Lazio clearly drew its inspiration from the real world. Gideon could imagine spending hours simply staring at the ceiling while enjoying the rural landscape.
The artwork was intriguing, but it still did little to calm his mind. Rising from the bed, Gideon picked up his jacket and put it on. If sleep was going to evade him, he may as well go for a walk in the palace grounds. If he got some fresh air, then hopefully he might tire himself out.
Stopping at his travel trunk, he briefly considered if he needed his coat, then decided he did. Rome wasn’t warm but the lack of wind was a welcome change to the chilly sea breeze that he’d had to tolerate during the long voyage from England.
After leaving his room Gideon passed through several large galleries on his way out of the main palace building. His gaze took in the myriad of dramatic religious paintings which were dotted amongst the numerous portraits on the walls. And while he appreciated these, he did however find the numerous paintings depicting bloody battle scenes, to be a rather disturbing way to decorate a family home.
Reaching the nearest set of stairs, Gideon stopped. He took in the small marble statues which sat either side of the entrance.
