Darius’ face suddenly took on a look of delight. “He got caught kissing you in the gardens, didn’t he?” he asked happily.
“Deliberately, I might add,” Jasper stated with a nod, knowing full well the duke’s brother simply wanted to embarrass him. He ignored the slight inhalation of breath Marianne allowed just then, and he rather wished he could have seen her expression.
This news had Darius’ brows furrowing. “Wait. How long have you been married?”
Jasper and Marianne exchanged quick glances. “What time is it?” she asked, her gaze going to Darius’ waistcoat.
Darius pulled a chronometer from his waistcoat pocket. “It’s nearly half-past-six,” he said before snapping the lid shut and stuffing it back into his pocket.
“Then.... just about fifteen and a half days,” Jasper said, rather stunned to think of all they had accomplished since they had exchanged vows in the parlor of Devonville House. He turned to Marianne. “Seems longer than that, don’t you think?”
“I would have said sixteen days,” she agreed, her expression so deadpan, Jasper wondered whether she was teasing or not.
Blinking several times, the older man allowed a huge grin. “Oh, well then, it’s no wonder you look as if you’ve been tumbled three ways to Thursday,” he said, his comment directed to Jasper. He suddenly sobered. “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Slater,” he added as his ears took on a decidedly reddish cast. “Or rather, Lady Henley,” he corrected with a nod.
“If you’re to be doing archaeological research with my husband, then I should like you to call me ‘Marianne’,” she said. “Especially since it seems we’ll be away from London for a time.”
“Well, then, it’s good to see you again, Marianne,” Darius said with nod. He took Marianne’s gloved hand so he could brush his lips over the back of her knuckles once again. “I cannot believe you took such an old man to be your husband,” he chided.
Marianne blinked. “But...”
“I am not an old man,” Jasper said with a sigh. “I am one-and-thirty,” he added, his gaze going briefly to Signora Romano. Her cheeks seemed bright red, and he wondered if she had been in the sun too long.
“Now, now, no need to have your first marital spat over age,” Darius commented with a good deal of humor. “Although I am reminded of my own wife, God rest her soul. She was older than me, and I didn’t discover the fact until we’d been wed for nearly ten years.” He frowned then. “We could hardly abide one another’s company, which is why she stayed in London whilst I decided my place was at Hadrian’s Wall.”
Although he words were aimed at Jasper, he seemed intent on learning how they were received by Marianne’s companion.
Marianne was sure the duke’s brother was flirting with Chiara despite his odd words about his late wife. She dared a quick glance in her husband’s direction, hoping they would never come to such a state in their marriage. After what had happened in the course of just a fortnight, she had decided they suited one another very well. Why, if all they ever did together was engage in sexual congress, she would be a happy wife.
“Where is your son these days, Dr. Jones?” Marianne asked, remembering he had one with his late wife. Her father had at one time hinted she might receive an offer from the young man. They had met Carter Jones whilst visiting one of the sites of an old Roman fort Darius was excavating near the remnants of Hadrian’s Wall. Marianne remembered the boy, who was forced to spend time with his father as Darius did his research. None too pleased with the arrangement, Carter’s protestations were as annoying as they were childish.
She wanted nothing to do with him.
“London. Spoiled brat claims he’s ready to take the Westhaven dukedom whenever my brother, Alexander, drowns in the Aegean Sea. As if he forgets I have to die as well for that to happen,” he added in disgust. “I keep hoping Alexander’s wife will bear him a proper heir.”
Not familiar with the Westhaven dukedom—other than knowing that Alexander, Duke of Westhaven, had only a daughter a few years younger than she—Marianne didn’t respond.
“Don’t lose faith, old man,” Jasper teased. He allowed a sigh before he suddenly realized Darius hadn’t been introduced to the woman whose villa he had recommended for their stay on Sicily. “I apologize, Signora Romano. I haven’t introduced you to Dr. Jones. He is the man who told me of your guest villa.”
Chiara’s eyes widened a fraction, betraying her surprise at hearing Jasper’s claim again. “I am honored to meet you, Dr. Jones,” she said as she dipped a curtsy.
Darius gave a bow and took her hand in his. “The honor is all mine, my lady.” He lowered his lips to the back of her gloved hand.
Jasper couldn’t help but notice how Darius lingered over Chiara’s hand. “Thank you for recommending her villa,” Jasper said as he continued to glance between Chiara and the archaeologist.
“I did not catch your name, milady,” Darius murmured, holding Chiara’s white-gloved hand between his beefy thumb and forefingers.
Chiara blinked before she dared a glance at Marianne, almost as if she were seeking permission to respond. “I am Chiara Maria Valentina Ferraro Romano,” she stated, straightening until she was nearly the archaeologist’s height. When he removed his hat and she could see his entire face, her eyes suddenly widened with recognition.
“It’s very good to meet you, Signora Romano,” Darius said as he once again lowered his lips to her knuckles. “You are from Rome, no?”
Her eyes widening again in surprise, Chiara dipped her head a bit. “I am,” she acknowledged, her olive skin displaying the tell-tale signs of a blush.
Darius looked as if he intended to simply lift Chiara from where she stood and carry her off to his cave or his den or wherever he was spending his nights. “Where are you staying, Dr. Jones?” Marianne asked, realizing someone needed to take the man’s attention off her companion or she would no longer have one.
The archaeologist finally tore his gaze from Chiara. “I took a room at the Villa Vigata down near the marina,” he answered.
Marianna blinked and gave a quick glance at Jasper, wondering if he knew what was going on. When he simply gave a shake of his head, Marianne turned her attention back to Chiara. “I think it’s time to change for dinner. Forgive me, Lord Darius, Lord Henley,” she added as she dipped a curtsy.
Chiara curtsied at the same time before stepping back while Jasper gave a bow. “I’ll see you at dinner, my love,” he murmured.
Marianne allowed a grin and hurried into their villa while Chiara disappeared into her own.
Neither looked back at the two men who stood staring at their retreating backs.
Chapter 26
Exposing a Puzzle to the Light
The next day
Ah, more progress,” Darius said when he appeared at the edge of the foundation in which several mosaics were on the verge of seeing their first daylight in possibly thousands of years. Since the harsh light of the sun washed out the colors of the tiles, James and Jasper had erected a makeshift sunshade of a thin fabric that allowed light to pass through but helped them see the details of the exposed tesserae.
The toe of one of his Hessian boots knocked away the dirt surrounding a series of stones at his feet. “What have you determined?” Darius asked as his gaze swept their dig site. James was off in the opposite corner of their site, using a broom and a small shovel to remove the last layer of dried dirt from the hunting scene they had partially uncovered the day before.
“At first, I thought this was all Greek, because instead of traditional tiles, you can see these tiles appear as tiny pebbles,” Jasper said as he brushed away the soil that Darius had just dislodged. A faint pattern began to emerge from what Jasper had originally thought of as a mosaic tile floor—an opus tessellatum—but farther out from his initial discovery, the colored stones were indeed more square. “Now that I’m seeing these more square tiles, I’m beginning to think I just started at a spot where the tiles were more damaged. Close
r to the surface. The edges worn away by erosion.”
Frowning as he angled his head, Darius tried to imagine what the entire pattern might reveal. There just weren’t enough black and white tiles exposed, yet, though. “Given the shape of the columns and the foundation that have been dug up, this has to be Roman,” Darius claimed as he waved a hand at the rest of what had been excavated.
“I’ll know for certain when I reveal more of the pattern,” Jasper replied. “But I agree. The entire site seems Roman.” Just the day before, he had felt a good deal of disappointment at the thought that the mosaic might be Greek. He had nearly arranged to head for Rome a few weeks earlier than planned, ready to write a letter to a Greek researcher to let him know the location of the excavation site. With today’s findings and Darius’ assurances, Jasper decided he should continue his work.
“I still don’t know how you can tell the difference,” Darius murmured, pulling out a stiff brush and joining Jasper in removing the loose dirt from over the tiles. “The last three I saw up in Pompeii looked Hellenistic in every aspect. Subject, tile colors. One was even signed with a Greek name.”
“Roman copies of Greek originals,” Jasper acknowledged. “Especially if they were colorful. Took the Romans some time to develop their own style. In this area, I would expect to find only black and white tesserae, maybe with some red, and motifs featuring sea creatures,” he explained. “On my last trip to Rome, almost every mosaic I uncovered was made up of black and white tiles in a sea horse pattern.”
Darius nodded. “I read your book on those ruins. Roman baths, weren’t they?”
“Indeed,” Jasper replied. “What I didn’t include in the book was any mention of the mosaics I discovered in one corner of the bath house,” he teased as he moved sideways a few inches and used a tool to scrape away a layer of hard ground from the artwork below. “I think it must have been a changing room, or a steam room, perhaps.”
Intrigued, Darius brushed away the newly loosened dirt. “Something too salacious for a book?” he guessed, a low whistle following his question when several rows of tiles were suddenly exposed.
“There were sixteen sets of mosaics, all different positions of sexual congress. Some featured more than two participants,” Jasper claimed, once again using a small ax to break away the stubborn ground. “Only a few tiles were missing, and they appeared to have been deliberately removed from strategic locations, if you catch my meaning.”
“You uncovered a Roman orgy!” Darius said with a huge grin. The grin disappeared when the sun that lit this part of their workspace was suddenly cast in shadow.
Jasper glanced up to find Marianne and Chiara regarding him with looks of shock, their faces framed by the open parasol his wife carried. Or perhaps their gaze was directed at the older archaeologist, who seemed oblivious to their presence. Scrambling to his feet, and followed a moment later by Darius, Jasper gave a bow.
“We didn’t mean to interrupt,” Marianne said as she dipped a curtsy. “I was just curious as to what you may have uncovered today.”
Jasper bowed. “We’re still uncovering the entire scene,” he replied as he waved to where James was working. “That one over there is definitely a hunting scene. Three hunters and a jaguar. Are you on your way to town?” he asked.
Marianne shook her head. “No. Just sightseeing,” she replied. She indicated a basket hung over one arm. “And bringing your luncheon. Where shall I put it?”
James hurried up to take it from her. “Signorina Aurora is most kind,” he said as he took the basket from Marianne. “Always seeing to our stomachs,” he said with a nod in Chiara’s direction. “I’ve a mind to marry her.”
Chiara Romano narrowed her eyes. “You and every other man of your age in Sicily,” she said with a grin, her gaze avoiding Dr. Jones.
“We will leave you gentlemen to your mosaics,” Marianne said. Although her attention was directed at the tesserae that had been completely exposed, she wasn’t wearing her spectacles and couldn’t make out any of the details of the mosaics. She curtsied, as did Chiara, and the two took their leave of the dig site.
“You looked as if you had seen a ghost when you met Dr. Jones last night,” Marianne said with a quick glance back at where the men were once again crouched down under their makeshift shade. “When did you first meet him?” she asked when she was sure they were out of the men’s earshot. She had watched in fascination as the two older people stared at one another, as if they couldn’t believe their eyes.
They had obviously met before, and not just the night before.
Chiara allowed a sigh. “A long time ago. Before I was married,” she said. “Twenty years, maybe more?”
“Here?” Marianne queried, rather surprised by Chiara’s words.
“Rome, actually. I was still living with my family,” Chiara replied. “I only came to Sicily because Antony brought me here. After we married. His familia is here, you see. Or, rather they are in Palermo now. It is why David and I have two houses to manage instead of just the one.”
Marianne nodded, realizing the sprawling villa in which they were staying had belonged to her husband’s family. David had probably inherited it upon his father’s death. “How did you come to meet him?”
Chiara allowed a grin. “My husband?” she clarified. At Marianne’s nod, she sighed. “Antony found me. On the steps of the Forum. Crying my eyes out of my head.”
Blinking at the odd comment, Marianne suddenly understood what she meant. “What had you so upset?”
Inhaling, Chiara seemed to think about how to respond before she finally let out the breath in a hiss. “A man, of course.” She let out a humorless laugh. “I was young. I was in love. I was sure...” Here she stopped and sighed again. “But I was wrong. He left, you see, and my heart was broke. We had spent that day wandering the streets of Rome, visiting all the ancient sites...” She suddenly rolled her eyes, blinking as if she had to stave off tears.
“Why?” Marianne prompted.
“They were the places he took delight in visiting. He had such a... reverence, I think is the right word, no? For the old. For the ancient. So I went to all those places with him again, but I didn’t know why.”
Angling her head, Marianne realized Chiara referred to the man who had broken her heart. “What happened then?”
“Antony found me.”
Marianne blinked. “Your husband?”
“Sì. He escorted me home in his town coach and kissed me.”
“Just like that?”
Chiara displayed a brilliant smile. “I didn’t even tell him why I was crying.” She suddenly sobered. “I couldn’t tell him everything, of course. I never did.”
“You couldn’t tell him about the man who broke your heart?”
“Oh, I told him just a bit about him, sì, but not all of it.”
They walked in silence for a time, the midday sun finally becoming warm enough so Marianne paused to remove her pelisse. “This man who broke your heart... do you think he loved you?”
Chiara turned her gaze out toward the water and then scanned the horizon until she returned her attention to Marianne. “He said so. Many times. But if he truly loved me, he would not have left me in Rome, no?”
Having read many a tale of women who had been left heartbroken by men—men who went off to war or who left to find employment—Marianne finally shook her head. “I suppose it depends on why he left.”
“To go back to his country.” At Marianne’s look of confusion, Chiara added, “He was not Italian.”
Furrowing a brow as she considered the older woman’s earlier words, she said, “But he had reverence for old Roman places.”
“Just as your husband does.” Chiara grinned at seeing Marianne’s reaction to her comment. She added, “Maybe more.”
Strolling in silence for a time, Marianne wondered how different life for Chiara would have been if she had ended up with her first love. “Would you have gone with him?” Marianne asked. “If he had pro
posed marriage?”
“If?” Chiara repeated, one eyebrow arching up.
“Did he propose marriage? Because in England, if a man proposes marriage and then changes his mind and breaks off the betrothal, the woman is left ruined,” Marianne explained in a hoarse whisper.
Chiara shook her head. “Because she has given up her virginity?”
Marianne’s eyes widened. “Possibly,” she hedged. “Although...” She paused, just then remembering Jasper hadn’t attempted to take her virtue before their wedding. She supposed he could have. “My husband didn’t even try,” she murmured, disappointment suddenly apparent in her voice. “Did yours?” She covered her mouth with a gloved hand. “I apologize,” she said. “I cannot believe I even put voice to such a question!”
Chiara threw her head back and laughed. “English ladies are so proper,” she said with a giggle. After a moment, she leaned her head toward Marianne. “I fear you will think the worst of me should I tell you what happened,” she murmured.
Marianne paused and moved to stand in front of Chiara, stunned by her words. “I rather doubt there is anything you could say that would change my good opinion of you,” she replied with a shake of her head.
Straightening, Chiara nodded. “I was enceinte the day Antony found me at the Forum.” She quickly waved a hand and added, “I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but my son was already growing inside me. A good thing, too, for Antony could never get another child on me. He loved that boy, though. I never told Antony the truth—and he never asked—but I often wondered if he knew.”
Trying her best to hide her shock at Chiara’s confession, Marianne wondered if David’s real father knew he had a son in Sicily. “David? My husband’s valet?” she asked quietly.
“Sì. He’s a good boy. Twenty years old already,” she said proudly. “Until today, when your husband introduced me to Lord Darius, I had not given his father a thought in a very long time.”
The Vision of a Viscountess Page 21
