Page 66 of Tempted By the English Marquis
“I know it’s not a palazzo, but it will do. This house is less than one hundred years old, which means you won’t have to deal with many of the problems that mistresses have to overcome in older homes. The pipes and flooring should still be in good condition.”
The state of a house wasn’t something Serafina had ever really considered.
I suppose I will be expected to manage the household budget and find savings where possible.
While she was intelligent and not opposed to hard work, Serafina would much rather her management of a house and its finances didn’t involve this particular one.
“Is there anything I should be looking for during our visit?” asked Serafina, trying to be helpful.
Donna Francesca straightened her back. She was an elegant woman—one who was ageing gracefully. But she had a spine of steel and a sharp eye. If anything was out of place at Signore Magri’s home, she would soon spot it.
“What I want you to do today, Serafina, is to imagine that this is your home. You will make the decisions regarding the house, which means by the time we leave, you should have a long list of things you think need changing. And make sure you don’t just confine your thoughts to trivial matters such as furnishings. You need to know who currently resides in the house - and who needs to go.”
Oh. I hadn’t thought about it like that.
This wasn’t just a friendly visit to discuss the arrangements for the supper; this was a sortie to gather information. To identify matters which would have to be thrashed out as part of the marriage negotiations. Enzo de Luca might well be thinking that this was a done deal, but the devil was in the details. Or in this case, in his wife’s opinion.
Donna Francesca knocked on the window of the carriage, and the door opened in an instant. No one dared to leave the contessa waiting.
Serafina followed her mother out into the morning sunshine. For the first time since her father’s announcement of her impending betrothal, she sensed that someone might actually be on her side.
She had hoped to speak to Gideon before they left, but according to her maid, Matteo had arrived early and taken him to his fencing club. It was nice that her brother and the English marquis were meeting up and reconnecting, but she felt the loss of his presence this morning more acutely than she had thought possible. The gap of eighteen months apart had disappeared into nothing.
I need to talk to you, Gideon. To let you know about the supper. And the betrothal.
Donna Francesca slowly traced her gaze over the front façade of the dusky pink house. She hummed her disapproval. “Look, Serafina, those rose bushes have been allowed to grow high and wild around the lower-level windows. We shall have to put the head gardener on notice as soon as you move in. The man is clearly not up to the job.”
Serafina glanced in the direction her mother was pointing. A small rose had dared to peek its head above the window sill. While Serafina couldn’t find fault with it, she suspected it was the first in a long list of things that Donna Francesca would find deficient in Signore Magri’s home.
A young boy came rushing out from the side of the house. He was screaming. For a moment Serafina thought he might be in pain, but the look on his face was one of unbridled joy. No sooner had the boy dashed past them and into the house than two more young lads appeared. They were brandishing wooden swords, which they brandished above their heads.
The contessa huffed as she marched toward the front door, hot on the heels of the boys.
A footman rushed out and came to greet them. “My sincere apologies, Donna Francesca. We were not expecting you until a little later. Signore Magri is not yet home.”
Serafina held back a knowing grin. They had been due at the house closer to midday, but her mother had insisted they arrive just after eleven o’clock. This was a time-honored trick that her mother had honed to a fine art. Arrive early and see what mayhem was occurring in the lead up to the arrival of guests.
I wonder who the children belong to.
“Your master not being at home is an inconvenience, but since we are here now, we may as well go in,” said the contessa.
The note of self-satisfaction in her mother’s voice would likely only build. If the house was a harried mess, Donna Francesca would be well within her rights to press for Serafina’s future husband to allocate more money toward household servants. To gain power for her daughter.
Inside the house, they were shown into a formal drawing room. The paintings on the walls were of simple country scenes. There was not a religious painting or a representation of a battle scene anywhere. Serafina found herself liking the modest theme. It was a welcome change from the gilt and weighty art of her family home.
This house feels lived in. It’s more like a family home than a sprawling palace.
There was a definite homely warmth about the place. The last time she had sensed this was during her stay at Mowbray House in London.
A middle-aged woman entered the room and curtseyed to the contessa. She then turned to Serafina and did the same. As the woman rose, Serafina caught a glimpse of the expression of deep distrust bordering on outright suspicion which now sat on her mother’s face.
“Donna Francesca, forgive me. I did not mean to keep you waiting. The housekeeper is busy in the kitchens overseeing the last-minute preparations for your visit.”
The contessa looked the woman up and down. Serafina did the same. Whoever she was, she was dressed in a fashion which set her above that of a mere housekeeper. And if the housekeeper was currently in the kitchen, then who was this lady?
Did Signore Magri have an unmarried sister? Or perhaps she was a widow. That could possibly explain the children running around the house. But the way her mother considered this unknown female set the hair on Serafina’s nape on end.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, during which Serafina wondered if the woman understood how these things worked. This might well be her home, but as the mother of its future mistress, Donna Francesca was not expected to have to ask who this stranger was.
