Before Will could reply, his cousin entered in a rustle of skirts. “Will, dear, so nice of you to call—at last!” she exclaimed, offering him her cheek to kiss before joining her husband on the sofa. “What of our agreement? I excuse you for a few evenings when I was preoccupied elsewhere and you disappear!”
“You’ve every right to scold, and I do apologize. I didn’t mean to be so neglectful. But…events transpired, and then I made that long-overdue trip to Brookwillow.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “In the company of a certain young lady, I understand.”
“And her chaperone, who wished to visit a dear friend who lives in seclusion near Hemley. I thought it only courteous to offer my escort, since I was going in that direction anyway.”
“Most gracious,” Lucilla replied dryly, her tone telling Will she didn’t believe his explanation for an instant. “Now that you have returned, let’s move forward! We’ll be dining en famille and can start planning at once.”
“I’d be delighted to dine, but first I’d better warn you that, grateful as I am for your kindness in trying to make a respectable gentleman out of me, I…I must cry off our agreement. After attending a few ton gatherings, I’ve discovered, like Marcus, that I don’t much enjoy them.”
“Always said you were a man of sense, Will,” Domcaster inserted with a grin.
While Lucilla shushed her husband, Will continued, “More to the point, after meeting several eligible ladies, I find it increasingly difficult to imagine myself cozening some poor innocent into marrying me so I can relieve her of her fortune and use it to restore my estate.” He shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. “I can’t do it, Lucilla.”
For a long moment she studied him. Will hoped she could no longer read his thoughts as well as she’d been able when they were children.
“I see,” she said at last. “What do you mean to do, then? Go back to gaming and forfeit any chance of finding a wife and having a family?” Putting a hand on her husband’s arm, she added softly, “’Tis a blessing you cannot imagine, having never possessed one. Don’t throw away the opportunity too hastily, Will.”
“Oh, I’m not ruling it out altogether.” ’Twas rather Allegra who had ruled it out for him, Will thought, wincing as pain slashed across his heart. “But as inured to poverty as I’ve become over the years, upon reflection I realized I don’t want to bring a bride to the ruin Brookwillow has become and have her despise it upon sight. I’d rather try to bring it into some sort of order first.”
He held up a hand before Lucilla could reply. “You’re going to say I haven’t enough capital to effect significant repairs, nor have I any knowledge of estate management, and you’re correct. But I can learn. I want to learn. It will take years, I know, but I’m convinced that this is what I must do.”
Looking at her frowning face, he sighed. “I am sorry, Lucilla. I don’t expect you to understand why I’m turning down your offer—though Marcus might,” he added, nodding to Domcaster. “I intend to leave for Brookwillow as soon as I settle my accounts in London. So if you wish to abuse me as an ungrateful wretch and throw me out before dinner, you’ve my leave to proceed.”
Lucilla looked to her husband, as if asking whether she should argue further. After he gave her a minute, negative shake of the head, she turned back to Will.
“I am terribly disappointed. I had so been looking forward to watching you win the heart of some sweet-tempered maiden—and having her soften yours in return. I don’t suppose this decision has anything to do with the interesting on-dit I heard this morning?”
“On-dit?” Will echoed in what he hoped was an innocent tone, though he suspected he knew what she’d learned.
“That Miss Antinori has abandoned her Season and left London. Now, some malicious tongues, encouraged by that viper Lady Lynton, no doubt, speculate that she became so…friendly with one or another of the rakehells pursuing her that she was obliged to leave—”
“The devil they are!” Will interrupted, fury suffusing him as he leapt to his feet, hands curled into fists. “Tell me who is spreading such scurrilous falsehoods! I promise you, when I am done with them they won’t speak at all for a fortnight!”
Eyes going wide, Lucilla gasped at his vehemence while Domcaster put a restraining hand on his arm. “Sit down, Will,” he said mildly. “As always with scurrilous rumors, ’tis best to do nothing. Those who were acquainted with the girl will know them to be ridiculous. Defending her would only prolong the talk.”
Hard put to contain his anger, Will resumed his seat. “You are right, I suppose. Still…” Making his decision, he continued, “Probably many in the ton would consider what she really did as reprehensible as ruination by some scoundrel, but I would prefer you know the truth. Having decided that society was…not to her liking, she chose to take a position as governess with a family traveling to Italy. She wished to see her father’s homeland.”
“The ton probably would think succumbing to seduction less shocking than hiring herself out as a governess,” Domcaster agreed. “I admire her independence, though.”
“Do you know which family?” Lucilla asked.
“Sir Henry and Lady Malvern.”
“I’m acquainted with Elizabeth,” Lucilla said. “She has a darling little girl. Very well, when the subject arises, I shall inform everyone that Miss Antinori was invited to accompany the Malverns to the continent.”
Smiling with real gratitude, Will said, “I would appreciate that.”
“Putting that version of her story about may be easier than you imagine,” Lucilla replied. “As I’m sure you will be pleased to know, Lady Lynton is soon to leave London. It seems Lynton departed the city right after Miss Antinori, telling Sapphira to vacate Lynton House as soon as possible since he meant to bring home a bride in the fall. I believe I heard something about Lady Lynton retiring to an estate in Cumbria…”
Leaning over to squeeze Will’s hand, she added softy, “You mustn’t despair, Will. Miss Antinori will return to England one day. Now, shall we dine?”
AFTER DINNER, Domcaster invited Will to share a brandy while his wife went up to freshen herself before the rout-party to which she was dragging her reluctant spouse.
“So you really intend to become a farmer?” Domcaster asked, handing him a snifter.
“Being one seems to agree with you.”
Domcaster nodded. “I never had any interest in cutting a figure in society or in gaming and drinking away my nights. To me, nothing can equal the satisfaction of walking my fields in the morning mist. Watching seeds planted in spring sprout into tender shoots that turn to green waves of summer grain and then to the gold of harvest. Give me that, the laughter of my wife and children, and I ask no more of life.”
It sounded good to Will as well—though he doubted he’d ever experience the bit about a wife and children’s laughter. “I look forward to it.”
“Whilst in town, I’ve consulted my man of business. I’ve been considering investing in additional acreage.”
“Is there any suitable land adjacent to Waverley?”
“I’ve enough of my own to manage already. I was thinking not so much of purchasing more, but rather of acquiring an interest in other properties.”
“With your expertise, I’m sure you’ll soon discover something suitable.”
“Especially if I’m assured of the honesty and good character of the estate manager. I’m thinking that for a property about the size of Brookwillow, ten thousand pounds should be sufficient to effect the most essential repairs and plant enough acreage to earn a profit.”
Ten thousand pounds, the size of Allegra’s supposed dowry—when she had one, Will thought, his attention so ensnared by bittersweet memory that at first he didn’t fully comprehend what Domcaster had just said. Suddenly realizing it, he almost dropped his glass.
“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
Domcaster smiled. “Why don’t we say that before you leave London, I�
��ll give you a draft on my bank for that amount? With interest at the going rate and flexible repayment terms, depending on the yields at harvest.”
“But as yet I know nothing of managing a farm. Why would you take a chance investing in Brookwillow?”
“I’ve always liked you, you know. Even more so now that you’re determined to eschew the easy path of wedding an heiress and work to restore the property yourself. Lucilla’s always said that Brookwillow is a fine piece of land that only needs sufficient cash and attentive management to set it to rights. You provide the oversight and I’ll supply the cash. You’ll need a competent estate agent to advise you. I’ll send over my manager’s eldest son. He’s a good lad and has been well-trained. I expect a handsome return on this investment, by the way.”
Awed and humbled by Domcaster’s generosity, Will said, “I hardly know what to reply.”
Domcaster shrugged. “Needn’t say anything. Family and all, you know. Just give me your hand on it and ’tis done. Then you can be off to Brookwillow to learn what your guardian should have made it his business to teach you years ago—how to profitably manage your birthright.”
His mind still muddled with surprise, Will shook Domcaster’s hand. From the turmoil of his thoughts, though, two sharply defined ideas emerged.
With such an influx of capital, he might accomplish at Brookwillow in a few years what would otherwise have required a decade. And once he’d made a good beginning, he would have the funds to pursue Allegra.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LAUGHTER AND THE MUSICAL babble of Italian conversation drifted on the night air from the ballroom into the garden where Allegra strolled with her cousin Alessandro, her duenna trailing a discreet distance behind. Breathing deeply of the blossom-scented air, she sighed. After three months in residence at her grandfather’s estate crowning the summit of a Tuscan hill, the beauty of the palazzo and the gardens around it still enchanted her.
She would never forget her reception the balmy evening she arrived with Signore DiCastello and the Malverns’ maid after their long dusty journey from Rome. Advised of her identity in a letter his servant had sent ahead by express messenger, her grandfather had been waiting on the terrace of the front entrance, just beyond where she now stood.
The duke himself had helped her from the carriage and stayed her at arm’s length before she could curtsey, his eyes inspecting her face as avidly as she inspected his.
She saw in him the sharp aquiline outline of Papa’s nose, the same dark, penetrating eyes gleaming with intelligence and fierce purpose, a high proud forehead now lined with age while his hair, wavy as Papa’s, fell snowy white to his shoulders.
Though Allegra felt she favored her mother, there must have been sufficient echoes in her visage of her father, for the duke cried, “Dio mio, how I see Emilio in you!” Then he’d drawn her into his arms and wept.
“Wool-picking, Allegra?” Alessandro asked, recalling her to the present.
“Wool-gathering,” she corrected, a tremor of laughter in her voice, “and yes, I’m afraid I was. Forgive me!” Alessandro, a serious young man who’d become even more intense, Allegra’s Italian maid told her, after the death of his father made him heir to the Antinori title, liked to practice his English with her. In the new world Italy would build since ridding herself of the Napoleonic invaders, the next duke must prepare himself to deal with men of every country, he’d told her solemnly.
“’Tis well-known that a beautiful woman may be forgiven whatever she asks,” he said, switching back to Italian as he smiled at her. “Did the press of visitors overwhelm you? I’ve noticed you often slip out to this garden after a day full of activities and callers.”
“You’ve caught me out,” she confessed. “With so discerning an eye, you shall make an excellent diplomat. And yes, I did feel the need for some quiet and solitude.”
“Am I intruding? I can leave you to Signora Bertrude’s company,” he said, gesturing toward the duenna.
“No, please stay. Unlike so many…callers, you are content to stroll in silence. And having your escort may discourage anyone else from joining me.”
Alessandro laughed. “You cannot blame the young men of the district from clamoring to pay their respects to so lovely and charming a lady—especially when she is the long-lost granddaughter of the duke!”
“Which, I do not doubt, is why so many come clamoring,” Allegra retorted. “Listening to so much talk sometimes makes my head hurt! And such a confusing mix of people, I’m still trying to sort them all out.
“Distant Antinori relations,” she began, ticking them off on her fingers, “come to report on properties they manage for grandfather. Officials from the old French government who’ve stayed on and wish to ingratiate themselves with the aristocrats whose lands and titles they previously tried to confiscate. Poets and philosophers entreating grandfather to take up their causes. And now, the Austrians beginning their administration. I’ve tried asking grandfather to explain it all, but he merely says a lady needn’t concern herself with political matters.”
“’Tis true.” Alessandro nodded. “Here, a maiden of good family occupies herself deciding which of her suitors might best please her as a husband, so she can persuade her guardian to accept his offer.”
“I’ve no interest in marriage now,” Allegra said, her exasperation increasing each time she had to repeat this apparently radical statement. “I am completely content to have found grandfather and my family again.”
In the months since her fiasco in London, she’d achieved a certain measure of peace. Though she thought often and fondly of Will, even the idea of marriage was still too painful to contemplate.
“Perhaps, but as an Antinori, it will be your duty to marry well, just as it is mine,” her cousin replied. “But then, you are half-English and must be allowed your sometimes odd ideas. Do English ladies interest themselves in politics rather than marriage?”
“Sometimes. Some become noted hostesses, inviting their husband’s friends and allies to debate affairs of government as well as sponsoring poets and writers.”
Alessandro frowned and shook his head. “I should not trust my wife among poets and writers. Inflammatory, unstable fellows. But one must tolerate them in the new Italy.”
The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel behind them made them both turn. The duke was walking toward them, resplendent in black evening dress with a red sash about his waist, the jeweled crest of the Antinori family glittering on his lapel.
“Ah, here it is you are hiding,” he said, coming over to take her arm. “Does the attention of these young pups fatigue you, dear one? If so, I shall send them home.”
“I would not be so discourteous to your guests, nonno. Alessandro has been entertaining me quite well.”
“Seeing you two in the distance, I could almost imagine it was your father Emilio strolling with your mother, Lady Grace, whom you so resemble.”
The duke patted his pocket, where Allegra knew he kept the miniatures she’d given him of her parents, painted shortly after their marriage. “He was not much older than Alessandro when he left San Gregillio.”
The duke sighed heavily. “Perhaps I erred, not letting him pursue his music here. I was also wrong not to trust him to remain faithful to his heritage, for he married your mother, a viscount’s daughter. Though I am not wise in the ways of your country, I know she must have sacrificed much to wed one whom her society thought a mere musician. If only he had brought her back to San Gregillio, that they might have been accorded the place of honor they deserved!”
“I think they meant to do so, nonno,” Allegra said, trying to ease the old man’s distress. “Worldly esteem aside, Papa was very happy in their love and with his music. I am only sorry Mama was never able to meet you.”
“I should resent her, for if my son had been unhappy, he might have returned sooner. But how can I be angry with the lady who made my Emilio content and gave me so lovely a nipotina, eh? Nor would my son have consid
ered returning except in triumph.
“But enough of the sadness of the past. Will you let me return you to the ballroom where your admirers wait? I won’t be here forever, and I wish for you to choose a fine young man to wed before I am gone.”
It was a familiar theme. Much as she wanted to please this imperious old man whom she’d come to love, Allegra had to grit her teeth as the equally familiar ache passed through her. “Can I not remain here with you, nonno?”
“My darling nipotina, I love having you with me, but ’tis my duty to insure you a husband’s protection, that you may never again have to hire yourself out as tutor to the children of others. No, I would surround myself with your children before I die. But I do not despair. It is only right that you are discriminating in your choice. Nor have you yet met all the eligible gentlemen in Tuscany. Surely one of them will catch your discerning fancy.”
Repressing a sigh, Allegra refrained from arguing further. Perhaps eventually she might steel herself to marry. But not now. And if pressed too much upon that point, not sharing the duke’s disdain at the notion of hiring herself out as a governess, she could always leave and make her own way in the world.
Retaining her independence and earning her own bread would be infinitely preferable to being bound for life to a man she knew little about and cared for even less.
Like the tall, elegantly dressed man making his way toward them, arrogant assurance in his walk. Both her grandfather and Alessandro stiffened at his approach, for this was a small family garden, not the formal one below the ballroom terrace that was illumined for the enjoyment of their guests. Allegra suspected her grandfather was not pleased that this guest dared trespass upon their privacy.
Count Hans von Strossen, the Austrian who’d recently been appointed governor of this portion of Italy, had quickly joined the court of her suitors and was fast taking persistence to the point of annoyance.
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