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Was he chatting with Barrows while the valet unpacked his belongings? Admiring the symmetry of the gardens outside his window? Or preparing, as she’d just done, to take an afternoon rest?
Ah, she thought with a wicked grin, that she might act his valet. She imagined removing his jacket, plucking open the buttons of his waistcoat, freeing his neck from the starched prison of his neckcloth…kissing the hollow of his naked throat, the pulse throbbing against her lips.
Like the throbbing that pulsed deep within her. Lips and breasts tingling, she remembered the kiss they’d shared in Hyde Park the night she’d said goodbye before leaving London. How she hungered to kiss him again under the stars—and this time, not have to stop.
Sighing with frustrated desire, she threw herself on the sofa and gazed out at the garden, shimmering with heat and shadow in the afternoon sun. How would she manage more than the quick peck on the cheek she’d just stolen, as encumbered as she was with duennas, maids and footmen? But manage it she would.
She intended to lick every droplet of pleasure she could savor from his visit. Indeed, if she could have her way, he would never leave again.
Suddenly the truth struck her with such blinding clarity, she sat bolt upright. How could she have been too dull-witted not to have realized it long ago?
It wasn’t Rob she loved—and never had been. She was in love with Will. Once she admitted that, all the pieces of her emotional puzzle fell into perfect place.
That explained why his wit so amused her and his observations so intrigued her, why she wanted to share all her thoughts and experiences with him, why she felt so safe and at ease with him, why she preferred his company to anyone else’s. ’Twas much more than the “friendship” she’d termed it that made her miss him so keenly, yearn for his company and ache for his touch.
How could she have thought she loved Lynton, when even as she contemplated marrying her cousin, her whole being had stirred at Will’s presence and burned for his caress?
But how did Will feel about her? When he’d offered for her—it seemed a lifetime ago now—he’d assured her of his respect and affection. But did he love her? Was that why he’d come to Italy so quickly after receiving her invitation?
Allegra frowned, worrying her lip between her front teeth. If he loved her, she could imagine nothing more wonderful than spending the rest of her life with him. Except…though he’d not flirted with her comely young maid in the garden—who, she’d noticed, had watched Will with appreciative eyes—how could she determine if he’d given up his rogue’s ways?
Knowing she loved him, she’d be even less able to endure infidelity than when he’d offered for her. Dare she risk marrying him?
But if he truly loved her…
If he truly loved her, if he burned for her as she did for him, if like her, he could imagine letting no one else share his bed and his life, it would be worth the risk. Especially if they spent their lives at Brookwillow, far from the blandishments of bored London matrons.
She knew he was as attracted to her as she was to him. When they visited London, she’d just have to be so alluring and indefatigable that he was kept too busy—and satisfied—to have time or energy to respond to the lures cast his way by the aforementioned matrons.
Having gotten the idea of wedding Will into her head, she now seemed unable to pry it back out. She knew Grandfather would prefer her to marry an Italian. Though amenable to hosting her English gentleman, he would almost certainly forbid a marriage between them, especially if he learned of Will’s financial difficulties.
But grateful as she was to her grandfather, this was her life and her happiness. Living in a pampered cocoon of wealth had been pleasant, but wealth alone, as she’d found these last three months, brought but a hollow satisfaction. Besides, she’d spent so little of her life in luxury that she’d not grown accustomed enough to miss it.
Not nearly as much as she would miss Will if she lost him again. More than she’d ever wanted anything, she realized with a wistful pang, she wanted to marry Will, return with him to Brookwillow and spend the rest of her life helping him restore it.
Which was probably the time it would require, since if Grandfather disapproved their match, he would not be disposed to settle any dowry on a granddaughter who, like his son, planned to abandon him and live in a foreign land.
She would regret disappointing him and would always be grateful for his loving welcome here. But she would not give up Will, no matter how much Grandfather objected.
But that was putting the cart in front of the horse. First, she needed to determine if Will returned her love.
Lounging back on the sofa, Allegra gazed out at the azure sky, pondering how best to proceed. Somehow she was going to have to figure out how a lady determined the depth of a gentleman’s regard without asking him directly.
And no less than her entire future happiness depended upon succeeding.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
IN THE ROOM to which the butler conducted him, Will stood before the glass, touching the cheek her lips had brushed. The skin seemed to burn against his fingers, as if still smoldering from her imprint.
At that proof of her gladness at seeing him again, he’d been tempted to wrap her in his arms and hug the breath from her, despite the presence of that disapproving dragon of a duenna.
How she’d dazzled him, walking in the blinding noon light in that pale yellow gown! So must the denizens of the ark of yore have felt when, after forty days of storm, they finally saw the sun crowning the heavens. His needy soul soaked up her radiance and thirsted for more.
Until he’d seen her today, he thought he’d been getting on with his life at Brookwillow. Now he realized he’d only been existing, marking time until he came again into the light of her presence.
Though the ducal palazzo of the Antinoris was even more opulent than he’d envisioned, making starker the contrast between what her family possessed and what he could offer her, seeing her again made his determination to win her all the stronger. And yet…
Sighing, he walked from the mirror to gaze out his window at the geometric precision of the formal flower gardens. The debate within him erupted again between whether to declare himself and ask for her hand, or simply drink in the pleasure of her company one last time before leaving her to a wealth and luxury far beyond what he could ever provide for her.
But he needn’t make that decision now. He could take time to watch her, listen closely and determine if she seemed happy in her new life, or if beneath the pretty gowns and milling servants lay a reservoir of yearning.
For England…and for him?
At that moment, Barrows strolled in. “We’ve certainly landed in opulent surroundings this time, m’lord.”
“Opulent indeed.”
“I suppose you’re already thinking it impossible to press your suit on so rich and privileged a lady.”
Will sighed. “She would be coming down in the world.”
“Depends on your outlook, my good sir. If I were of a philosophical turn of mind, I’d say that wealth alone is empty, that one’s existence means nothing without love and purpose. Not, mind you, that I’ve ever possessed enough wealth to test the theory. I can affirm, however, that friendship ameliorates the despair of poverty and makes want bearable.”
“She’s hardly in want,” Will observed.
Barrows shrugged. “Not by worldly standards, perhaps. But I recommend you watch and see.”
“Thank you, Sir Philosopher. ’Tis what I’d just concluded. By the way,” Will added with a chuckle, “she’s taken it into her head that we’re here because I lost what little fortune I possessed gaming and was forced to flee to the Continent. I suppose I ought to be insulted.”
Barrows laughed. “You might, if the observation weren’t so dangerously close to the mark! Knowing you’d pledged to marry and restore Brookwillow, ’tis not an unreasonable conclusion after our precipitous arrival.”
“The misconception isn’t that important. I can correct it whenever I wish.”
“Indeed. First you must run the gauntlet of sufficiently impressing her grandfather and cousin so you may remain here long enough to discover if she loves you.”
“I might succeed in getting invited to stay, but I’m not lovesick enough to imagine that, even apprised of my actual situation, the family that can provide so lavishly for her would ever countenance my suit.”
“Don’t bother about that yet. Keep your wits about you, observe keenly and await the right moment. I’ll apply my perspicacity and acumen, too, of course.”
Though Barrows had always shown himself to be innovative and resourceful, Will doubted his valet’s skills extended to magically altering his circumstances enough to win the approval of Allegra’s grandfather. But no sense giving up before he even began. “You do that.”
THAT EVENING, to escape the press of guests and the stifling atmosphere of heat, smoke, candle wax and perfume, Will strolled out to the grand terrace. Watching the stars in the clear sky, he breathed deeply and flexed his shoulders, loosening the tension.
At dinner he’d finally met Allegra’s grandfather, who had greeted him cordially and listened with what appeared to be genuine interest as Will described the concert by Emilio Antinori he’d once attended. After dinner, the duke had shown him a mark of favor by seeking him out when the gentlemen enjoyed their brandy and cigars, asking Will questions about his estate back in England.
