Forbidden Marquis

by Victoria Pinder

  She must have left. He returned to the bedroom and threw on his wrinkled white pants and shirt from the floor and hoped she’d returned to the party.

  The thought calmed him. Surely he’d done enough to show her how beautiful she was to him.

  Besides, her mother had just flown in and Rosalind hadn’t spent any time with her yet.

  As he descended in the elevator, he let that idea center him. There was no way Rosalind had left him.

  But her adamant response that she intended to return to her business echoed in his mind like a blaring stereo.

  The doors opened and he quickly raced across the lobby to the ballroom.

  People were still drinking champagne and dancing. He smiled and waved at his neighbors though he headed right toward the table that held her friend and mother. He clasped Astorre on the back as he knelt down between Clara and Rosalind’s mother and said, “Clara, Mrs. Diaz, sorry to bother you both.”

  Clara put her napkin down and turned her chair to face him as she asked, “What’s going on? Is Rossie feeling better?”

  Her friend saw everything and likely knew more than he did. His skin buzzed that he needed insight. He and Rosalind had been so happy but now he wondered if he was living in some fictional reality of his own making. He swallowed back his pride and said, “Rosalind left.” Her mother turned toward him as well and his face heated. Admitting his mistakes wasn’t something he liked to do. He glanced at both of them and said, “I was hoping she came here to see either of you.”

  Clara’s clear blue eyes met Rosalind’s mother’s and a moment later she shook her head and stood. “No, we’ve been at the wedding. We’ll help you find her.”

  He stood and offered his hand to her mother as he said, “I’m sure she’ll be in touch with you. You’re her mother.”

  “My Rossie is hypersensitive and impulsive. Last time she was upset I didn’t hear from her for a week. She flew to New York and went to stay with friends and calmed down before she came home and told me about Alberto and his friends and how they all laughed at how he was going to marry her. She relived elementary school and how he made fun of her then. Alberto never once made her feel special, which was why I couldn’t stand him.” Her mother then glared like she was a lioness about to attack as she said, “Why was she crying earlier?”

  Stephano’s mind raced. Maybe this had nothing to do with him. He'd held back the urge to physically attack Alberto when she'd run into the church earlier. Astorre assured him that he just needed to let her go. He met his friend’s gaze who also stood to join them as he told her mother, “She spoke to Alberto and came back upset. I chased him off before you arrived.”

  “Alberto was the worst sort of groom.” Her mother then took his arm and used him as a crutch as she said, “My daughter married a better man.”

  Not if his pride ultimately chased her off. Was his money and property worth losing Rossie?

  Clara formed a circle with the four of them as she said, “I went to the bathroom with Rossie to help her calm down and it related to her self-esteem.”

  Her mother let him go and her face went white as she said, “Oh no.”

  “Self-esteem?” Stephano needed to latch onto the idea that he hadn’t driven her away.

  Her mother’s face twitched like she wasn’t sure she’d answer him. But then she took his arm again and patted his shoulder like her daughter did when she said, “She honestly believes she’s not deserving of all the blessings in her life.”

  Clara crossed her arms and shook her head. “Alberto. I never liked him. Now I see how far back this goes. I had no idea they had that much history. I wish I’d known how to stop that train wreck of an engagement much sooner.”

  Whatever had happened before he knew Rosalind ultimately didn’t explain why she’d left him. He’d never hurt her. Her leaving meant she didn’t love him as he loved her. He kept his voice low and told them, “In the room, she took off all her makeup and acted like she expected me to see a horrible monster instead of her nice smile.”

  Clara covered her lips. “All that makeup was because she was insecure? I didn’t realize….”

  Her mother directed him toward the door as she said, “Yes. Rossie’s impulsive. I'd hoped she’d outgrown this, but Alberto caused too much damage. Please forgive my daughter for leaving. We’ll find her.”

  Right. The airport. It was a start and at least a mission. He guided them through the seats but then he glanced at the bride and groom. Matteo’s face seemed white and he beckoned them. Without a word Astorre patted him on the shoulder and took over guiding Clara and Rosalind’s mother to the door as Stephano said, “I need to go check on Matteo. Give me two minutes and I’ll do whatever I can to help you find her.”

  If Rosalind didn’t love him then he’d have to live without her.

  The thought left him cold. He’d never wanted to marry and live separate lives, risking the crown asking where his lady was at royal functions.

  The last thing he’d ever do was force a woman to live an unhappy life beside him. His own mother hadn’t been happy and he wouldn’t force Rosalind to suffer his mother’s fate. The title and lands could die with him.

  He joined his friend at the head table and ignored the impulse in his veins to stay and ensure he held his position to a higher standard than his father ever had. Traditions kept him rooted on the spot as he offered his hand to shake while Matteo stood and said, “Stephano, where have you been?”

  “Around.” He refused to tell Matteo that marrying for the title alone was a mistake. He glanced down at the bride who was engrossed in her conversation with Chelsea. Stephano quickly said, “I wanted to make sure that you don’t need my help with anything and you’re satisfied with marrying Sheena.”

  Matteo shrugged like who he married wasn’t a big deal. “It’s fine. We talked. She knows what it’s like to run things and she meets everything on that list you always talk about. Everything will work out.”

  “My list was a stupid idea.” Stephano's brows lifted. He’d forgotten what a stuffy, set in his ways, prude he sometimes could be.

  If his list had scared Rosalind, then he was at fault. He should have told her it was all rubbish and not just taken her to bed. Perhaps his list of demands just put more pressure on her to think she had to be perfect and use makeup for the rest of their days instead of just on special occasions where they both had to look good. He probably should have said that earlier too.

  Matteo let his hand go but asked, “I thought Rosalind fit the list?”

  Right. He needed to go. His neck tingled. He bowed in traditional leave-taking. “It seems I put too much pressure on her. Astorre is going to help me for a few minutes but we’re all glad you’re happy.”

  Matteo looked down at the women at his table and then out at his party. He bowed in return, something comforting in their country’s formality. “We’ll catch up at breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Come over when you’d like.” Stephano didn’t show the groom on his wedding day his back and instead walked in reverse. “Congratulations.”

  Once he was in the swarm of couples dancing, he turned as Matteo couldn’t see him anymore and rushed toward the door.

  Astorre already had a limo waiting and his friend guided Stephano in with Rosalind’s mother and Clara. Once Astorre was inside, Stephano said, “You understand more than everyone here. My title isn’t worth Rosalind’s suffering.”

  Astorre shrugged. “I’m letting my title rot so that it won’t hurt anyone.”

  Right. His friend had never wanted to be a duke and often said the same though Matteo and he both placed a small wager he’d change his mind in the end. There was much good he could do, if he was open to it.

  Clara snorted and looked out the window. “Except you’ll be poor and homeless with no skills. The world isn’t as pretty then.”

  Astorre didn’t respond and instead asked him, “To the airport?”

  “Yes.” Stephano leaned over to the driver and said,
“Hurry. I need to find my wife.”

  The driver nodded and pressed down on the gas. Stephano retook his seat and studied Rosalind’s mother. Barbara Diaz had the same hair color as Rosalind and her skin had a similar glow. “What would it take for Rosalind to believe she’s more important than my fortune?”

  Her mother folded her hands in front of her. “What do you mean?”

  This was partially his fault for not being honest earlier. Alberto might have triggered her, but he'd made demands of perfection and put it in writing. He loved her and shouldn’t have been so demanding. He leaned closer and pressed his hands together as he said, “I made her believe my title and duties mattered more than her. While she saved my title, lands and fortune when she said ‘I do,’ I'd hoped we could move past that when I said I loved her.”

  Clara let out a small sigh. Stephano turned toward Rosalind’s friend as she said, “I think she loves you too. It’s why she’s running. She’s scared.”

  He released a breath. If he had another chance, he’d handle everything differently. The air was tinged with electricity as he said, “Clara, I hope you’re right.”

  She ignored Astorre but glanced right at him as she nodded. “Me too. Let’s search everywhere—but I bet she went to the airport.”

  Stephano hoped Clara was right and that finding Rossie was all they needed to do. But he had no idea what he’d say to make her stay. He’d told her how he felt. If she left, he’d have to live with that fact. Perhaps he was his father’s son after all and didn’t deserve love.

  Rossie hopped out of the taxi and stormed into Charles De Gaulle airport like alligators were on her trail and were about to eat her. She ignored the churning in her stomach and marched toward the airline ticketing counter. While she didn’t read French, she understood logos.

  Once she found the one she needed, her legs cramped from all that walking, she waited in line as people pushed carriages and were basically asking for arrangements more than tickets. Finally she made it to an agent, though the line took forever. She handed her old ticket over and rifled through her pocketbook for her wallet. “I’d like to change my ticket.”

  Without waiting for the question, Rossie fished out her passport and handed that over as well. The agent typed on her computer and stared at it without blinking.

  Rossie shifted her weight from one foot to another. Finally the agent looked back at her and said, “There is a change fee, ma’am.”

  Of course. She’d expected that. She swallowed and took out her credit card though she wished… never mind that. She went to hand the lady her card but then took it back and asked, “How much is it?”

  The woman stared at her computer and read the numbers slowly and clearly, “Three thousand four hundred seventy-two dollars and twenty-nine cents, ma’am.”

  Ouch. She’d have to take an extra job to pay that back, otherwise her savings took that hit. She started to give her the card again but stopped, her mind clouded. If she left, she might never see Stephano again. If she left, she’d be alone. Forever. Her mind twirled faster than a wind chime in a storm as she said, “What?”

  The lady thought she needed to be read the number again so she started, “Three thousand-”

  “No,” Rossie interrupted her. She needed to make a choice. Stephano deserved better than her, but if she left, she’d never be happy without him. She propped her elbows on the counter. “Even if I go back… I’m not sure.”

  A shadow behind her stopped the fluorescent light. Goosebumps grew on her arms as Alberto said, “Rossie, do you need money to get a ticket?”

  She turned and straightened her shoulders as she met the sympathetic brown eyes of the man she’d almost married—and the blonde who wasn’t his cousin. She recalled the boy who’d pushed her off a swing—how could she ever have trusted him? She blinked the memory away as she said, “Alberto. Abigail.”

  Alberto removed a credit card from his wallet and her heart almost stopped. It was her, well technically their joint account card. She’d stashed away money for their honeymoon and eventually a home to buy. Blood pumped faster throughout her body, as she needed to cool down, and she reached out to push the card back. Alberto said, “We’ll get you a ticket to fly home with us. You look like a trash can just fell on top of you.”

  “Excuse me?” She released her grip on the card as her body became rigid.

  Alberto eyed her and chuckled “You have no eyebrows without makeup. Reminds me of when we called you Pick Your Nose Rossie.”

  Seriously? She’d not heard that in years. If she could go back in time and hug the little girl in the playground she would. This time she put her hand on her hip and fire raged within as she asked, “Are you still seven?”

  “Look, we’ll buy your ticket.” He handed their debit card to the airline employee.

  Rossie reached over and took it back as she said, “No.” The clerk backed off. Rossie then held the card and showed it to Alberto. “Really? You use my own money like this? I was so stupid! I’m not someone you can bully anymore, Alberto.”

  Alberto’s face went white when he glanced at the card. He didn’t move to take it back as he said, “I never bullied you. That’s such a girl word.”

  Rossie’s face was hot. For once in her life she was going to end this. She ignored Alberto and shook her head as she said, “Abigail, we both know he’s on the small end of manliness and can’t really satisfy-”

  “That’s just mean,” Alberto interjected.

  True. Rossie shouldn’t be mean. She shouldn’t be angry. She should be over this. She swallowed as her eyes rolled and said, “Fine. Whatever. I’m just mean old Pick Your Nose Rossie, but at least I get a chance at being happy and I’m not ever going to live off other people’s hard work and sweat.”

  “So don’t buy your ticket,” Alberto shrugged.

  Abigail then said, “Get your debit card back, honey.”

  Rossie’s eyebrows rose higher. Poor Abigail didn’t know the source of this funding? She turned her attention to Alberto. “And how are you even here? Did you use this to buy your ticket?”

  “Rossie, don’t,” Alberto warned.

  It was time for the truth. She held the card still as she said, “You don’t have a job that can pay you that much. You’re using our honeymoon and home savings account I set up. It’s my money that you’re offering to buy my ticket with.” She turned toward his girlfriend and ignored Alberto. “Abigail, I hope you know Alberto’s roofing company is in serious debt and he has no prospects as the last few jobs he did caved in, insurance companies are chasing him, and no one wanted to hire him for his subpar work.”

  “Wait. What?” Abigail turned toward Alberto, whose face was red.

  “Good luck with Alberto.” She tossed the card at him. With his ticket here, two return tickets and wherever he’d stayed at for a hotel, he’d already used a large chunk of the cash. He caught it and she left.

  She rushed outside and tried to find the taxi stand again that might return her to her hotel. Her fingers curled together as she hugged her waist while she walked back and thought about Stephano.

  At his house in Avce, his face when he ate brunch was so adorable for indulging in her American habits. She laughed at herself and remembered how sweet he’d been to her when she took off her makeup.

  He never once called her a name.

  Loving him was easy and running away from their life was stupid. Being with the man she loved mattered far more than him one day leaving her. Her fear was irrational. As she made it to the taxi stand, she told herself, out loud, to make it more real. “Now I’m heading back to Stephano. I hope he forgives me. I was afraid, so much so that I almost let go of love because I actually thought I was that stupid girl. Now I see how wrong I was.”

  Stephano’s voice was behind her as he said, “Stupid-”

  “Stop.” Every cell in her body bloomed and she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him as she said, “I’m not listening to one more word.”

&nbs
p; His heartbeat was strong, and his muscles felt like home.

  Leaving him was wrong. She hugged him tighter and didn’t want to let go. But finally she slowly released him. A million questions crossed her mind, and all she said instead was, “Stephano.”

  He took both of her hands and held them to his heart. “Rosalind. I came here because I love you and I hoped you’d consider coming home, with me.”

  Tears sprang out of her eyes. She sniffled. “Stephano, I don’t deserve you.”

  He released her and turned to go. “I understand.”

  “No. Wait.” She tugged his arm.

  He faced her and asked, “Yes?”

  She swallowed her tears without letting him go. Her mother, Clara and Astorre walked toward them. She reigned in her impulses as she brushed her palm on Stephano’s cheek and said, “Yes. I want to go back to the hotel, with you. I want to stay married and be with you. I hope you can forgive me for tonight, for ruining your enjoyment of Matteo’s wedding…”

  “Let’s go.”

  The words were on the tip of her tongue. Maybe she should have said them already, but then they were with the others and it wasn’t the right time. “Clara? Mom? Astorre?”

  Stephano kept his arm around her as he guided her to the exit. “They insisted on coming to find you.”

  “I’m happy.” She waved at her mother and best friend. “And Clara, you were right that I was being impulsive.”

  The moment they were alone, she’d tell Stephano she loved him. He needed to know. The butterflies in her stomach were now all excitement as she burst with the need to tell him, but she needed to keep her impulses in better check so she’d wait until they were alone.

  Clara put her hand on her hip as they passed a glass door and came to a stop. “Wait! Is that Alberto?”

  Alberto was the past. Her future was beside her and she wanted to leave, right now. She held Stephano’s arm a little tighter and said, “Yes. Let’s go now.”

  “Rossie, if you don’t chew him out, I will,” Clara said.