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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 considered 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.
The air of ruthlessness about him made her almost as uncomfortable as the insolent way he inspected her when her grandfather wasn’t watching, his eyes darkening with a lust he made no attempt to conceal. An unpleasant shiver passed over her skin at the thought of being near him on the darkened terrace, even with her grandfather and cousin beside her. Nor did she wish to do anything that might encourage in him the mistaken impression that she had the slightest desire for his company.
“Count von Strossen, you must have lost your way,” Alessandro said pleasantly, though Allegra sensed her cousin had no more liking for the Austrian than she did. “This is but a small insignificant garden, unworthy of your notice. Let me lead you back to the south terrace. With the fountains at play, a stroll there is most refreshing.”
“But the most delectable ornament in your garden is here. I should find a stroll with her much more…satisfying.”
Even in the darkness, Allegra could see her cousin frown at the Austrian’s provocative wording. With the fluid situation in Italy at this moment, the governments the French had imposed being dismantled and the local landowners dancing a delicate ballet with the Austrian powers who sought to replace the French, she knew her grandfather could not afford to antagonize the count. Which doubtless accounted for the fact that the duke had not discouraged his frequent visits to the palazzo.
