The thought of walking the streets of Rome with Serafina while enjoying long sunny days was a strong lure. Italy might well do her a power of good. To be in a new city, and not surrounded by the things which constantly reminded her of Flynn, may be just what she needed.
Rome could be the place where she finally saw the light which would bring her out of the long dark tunnel of grief. Augusta had nothing to lose. She had already lost the one thing that truly mattered.
“I shall start making arrangements,” said the duchess, quickly heading for the door.
With their mother gone, Victoria came to sit beside Augusta. “You have to do this, G. Get out of London, and go see the world. Or at least some of it. I promise that if any news comes of Flynn, I shall write to you immediately.”
If, as his father had claimed, Viscount Cadnam was dead, there would be nothing of any real note for Victoria to impart. A body which they could give a decent burial to was the most she could now hope for when it came to Flynn. Not knowing what had happened to him still hurt, but she was slowly, surely coming to accept that he was gone.
“Alright. I will go with Mama. She says we will be back before Christmas, so I won’t be away that long.”
ChapterNineteen
Early December 1817
Palazzo Lazio, Rome
Serafina de Luca appeared in the doorway of Augusta’s room. From the dark blue cloak draped around her shoulders and the gloves on her hands, it was clear she was ready to go out.
Rising from her chair, Augusta picked up her reticule and dusty pink cloak. “What are our plans for today?”
It was a little game that she and her friend played most mornings. Augusta would ask, and Serafina would give her a grand pronouncement as to where and with whom they would be visiting.
“I was thinking we could go and visit Saint Peter’s this morning. The papal mass will be starting early, after which we can wander back across Ponte Sant’Angelo and then find somewhere to eat.”
Augusta stifled a grin. Serafina de Luca was nothing if not predictable. It was Wednesday, and they had a well-established tradition. Take the bridge over the River Tiber to the Vatican and on their way back, they would find a restaurant where they could sit and share a big bowl of pasta and a bottle of wine. Then they would amble slowly through the shops of Via del Corso, letting their lunch settle before heading home to Palazzo Lazio and enjoying a late afternoon nap in one of the many sitting rooms of the Duke of Lazio’s family home.
It was a home, but in reality, it was a palace. Bigger than any that Augusta had seen before undertaking the long sea voyage to Rome. The butter-colored walls of Palazzo Lazio, with their white-bordered windows, fitted in with the rest of the local streetscape. But it was the ornate interior that set it aside from most other private residences.
There were plenty of other wealthy and powerful families in Rome, but Augusta was yet to find one whose home matched that of Palazzo Lazio. Even the private rooms of the Vatican, where Serafina was afforded special access due to family ties, were set in their place by the opulent foyer of the de Luca residence.
The two friends made their way down the stairs and toward the front door. As with every time she walked through the main gallery, Augusta’s footsteps slowed. Her gaze lifted as she took in the gilt-edged ceiling with its painted blue sky, white clouds, and golden cherubs. Heaven, in all its glory, hung overhead.
“Come now, G, you have been here for nearly three months. How can you still find the roof a source of wonder?” observed Serafina.
She had lived in the palace her whole life, so it was no surprise she didn’t find the décor as fascinating as Augusta, who simply chortled at her friend’s remark. “Yes, well you know what my home looks like, and fine though it is, it’s nothing like this place.”
Home.
That single word pulled Augusta up short. She and her mother should have sailed for home by now. Their original departure date of late October had come and gone, yet the duchess had not given the slightest indication that she was ready to book them passage to take them back to England.
Serafina seized Augusta by the arm and dragged her toward the front door. The pair of bodyguards who were waiting either side of the entrance fell in behind them.
Stepping out into Via della Pilotta, Augusta stopped. For a bliss-filled moment she stood, eyes closed with her face raised to the Roman sun. It blessed her skin with warm good morning kisses. She sighed. “This is why people come to this city and never leave.”
But leave she must eventually do. Return home to London and her family. To a future different from the one she thought had been set for her. To a life without Flynn.
When she opened her eyes, she discovered Serafina quietly studying her. Her Italian friend could, unfortunately, read her mind and mood all too well. During her time in Rome, Augusta had turned to Serafina for comfort, for counsel as she finally came to terms with the loss of her beloved viscount.
“You look like you need a day of laughter, or at least one with smiles,” said Serafina.
The dark-haired beauty with deep brown eyes always seemed to know what Augusta needed. She also knew how to draw her out of the dark corners where her grief still sat, waiting to embrace Augusta whenever her heart whispered its pain.
“I dreamed of Flynn again last night.”
“Was it a good dream, or a sad one?” asked Serafina, brushing a hand gently over Augusta’s cheek. At times like these, her friend was a godsend.
Every thought of him was filled with sadness, of the sense of loss. But worse was simply not knowing what had happened to him. Victoria’s letters from home had given Augusta the occasional update on the search for Flynn, but with it nearing eleven months since he had disappeared, her hopes of ever discovering the truth had slowly faded.
