Page 37 of The Vagabond Viscount
Were they really having this conversation?
“And Rome. The eternal city. The ancient Colosseum, Saint Peter’s Basilica, and all those other wonderful sights. Come, Augusta, we must do this. I promise you won’t regret coming with me,” pleaded her mother.
What would the rest of the family think of the two of them sailing all the way to Italy? And what about the duke? Her parents had never spent more than a night or two separately in her entire life. How would her father cope with spending months apart from his wife?
A flurry of questions raced through her mind.
“I don’t know. It’s just such a long way. And what if we get there and I hate it?”
The duchess brushed her other hand over Augusta’s cheek. “But what if you love it?”
It would be easy to say no. To stay in London and continue to grieve. But the thought of Flynn and the things that he wouldn’t ever get to do settled in Augusta’s mind.
I owe it to his memory to travel where he would have loved to have gone but didn’t get the chance. To honor him.
“Alright, let’s go to Rome. When do you think we should leave?”
Lady Anne rose. She glanced around the breakfast room for a moment. From the deep furrow in her brow, her mother appeared to be giving Augusta’s question about possible departure dates a long hard consideration.
“How soon could you pack? I mean, if we can secure passage in the next few weeks, would you be ready to sail?”
In a matter of minutes, the notion of going to Italy had gone from a mere flight of fancy to becoming something very real.
Augusta turned to Victoria. “What do you think?”
“It might do you good to take a long trip. See some new sights and freshen your soul,” said Victoria.
She had always wanted to see Rome, but now that the offer to travel was laid before her, Augusta hesitated. “It’s six weeks to reach Civitavecchia. I remember that because Serafina said the long sea voyage was boring at times.”
Six weeks to Italy, then six weeks home. In between they would have to spend at least a month in Rome to make it worth their while. “When would we be back in London?”
The duchess rubbed her hands together. “Well, if we could find a ship to take us before the end of July, we could be in Rome by sometime in September. With all things running in our favor, you would be back in England well before Christmas.”
“Don’t you mean we?” corrected Augusta.
“Yes, of course, I meant we,” said her mother, following a short pause.
Augusta picked up the letter from Serafina. She still hadn’t read it, but she could imagine what it said. Lots of stories about the places and people that were in her friend’s life. Places and people that Augusta would get to know if she took the chance and got on board a boat.
“What do you think Papa will say when we tell him we are planning to go to Rome? Will he want to come with us?”
She suspected that the duke might not think it such a wonderful idea. Her father wasn’t one for travel. He loved London and Mowbray Park. This was the man who refused to travel to Strathmore Castle in Scotland, her mother’s family seat, because he considered it too far to go. The notion of spending months away from home wouldn’t likely be something Clifford Kembal would leap at with any sense of joy.
“I am going to enquire about when we could sail for Rome. As to what your father says, I don’t really care. This is not his adventure. It is yours and mine,” replied the duchess.
“I could come with you,” said Victoria.
Their mother shook her head. “No. I need you to stay here and keep your brothers in order.”
“What about Coco?” asked Augusta.
At the mention of the youngest Kembal offspring, the duchess raised her gaze to the ceiling. “Your father needs to bring her into line. I have tried and failed. Repeatedly. That girl is going to get herself into serious trouble someday. While I am out of England, it will present him with the perfect opportunity to do something to curb her wild ways.”
Victoria studied her toast with great interest. Augusta opened Serafina’s letter and ran her eyes over it. Neither of them was going to dare to ask the duchess as to how much she knew about their younger sister’s nocturnal habits. Augusta had a horrible suspicion that little of it had gone unnoticed.
Serafina’s missive was full of its usual color and interest. One of her younger sisters had recently received her first holy communion, and there had been a huge party at Palazzo Lazio to celebrate. Augusta had lost count as to how many siblings her friend had, but there were quite a few.
“Apparently, Rome was very warm when she wrote this letter, and Serafina said they were expecting a long, hot summer. Or at least a better one than last year.”
