The Valentine Poem
Page 7
“At last I found you,” her mother said, putting her arm around Susan’s shoulders. “You were excellent, my dear.”
“I am proud of you, Susan.” Lord Halford kissed her cheek.
“You did not look frightened in the least.” Dianthe grabbed Susan’s hand.
“And there were at least a hundred people looking at you.” Theodosia shook her head, making her dozens of blond ringlets bounce up and down. “I could never do that.”
Like a puppet, Susan was pulled along toward the ballroom. “Mama, I must find the ladies’ retiring room.” Anyplace to get away. “I fear I am getting the headache.”
“Do you have a powder to take?”
“Yes,” Susan fibbed. Headache powder would have no effect whatsoever on the volcanic emotions she felt now. “I will find you later.”
Susan sidestepped the next group of people and returned to the music room where the pianoforte stood deserted in front of the ranks of now-empty chairs. The little settee where Gianni often sat had been pushed into line with the last row, and she sat down to gather her thoughts. If only she could go back to her happiness of yesterday when she was dreaming of travel to Italy with Gianni. Everything that happened since this morning would be wiped away. The nightmare of the last few minutes, seeing Gianni fawning over Lady Caroline, being given the cut direct, all that would not have happened.
She sat alone for a long time. All she could think of was Gianni and his inexplicable snub. Nothing else. When the footmen eventually came to move the chairs away, she had not managed a single rational explanation for his behavior. She wandered back into the foyer, wondering if she dared get her wrap and just leave, find their carriage, and ask to be taken home immediately. Or she could walk. The ice had mostly thawed; the only loss would be her silken slippers. The way she felt, she would never need them again anyway, for surely this was the very last ball she would ever attend.
“I cannot imagine where she has disappeared.” Lady Renwick came out of the ballroom accompanied by Gianni.
Susan froze in place.
“Why here she is! Susan, this gentleman, Lord John Stansberry, is recently returned to town after a long absence. He wishes to be made known to you. Lord John, this is Miss Kimball, my daughter’s vocal partner.”
Gianni bowed low. By rote, she dipped a little curtsey.
“Miss Kimball, I compliment you on your very fine performance with Lady Caroline.”
His voice was familiar, warm. She wanted to weep for loving its tone so much.
Lady Renwick patted Susan’s arm. “Now I shall leave you. I have a thousand things to attend to.”
Gianni continued. “You must have spent a great deal of time practicing together.” He cast a look at Lady Renwick being swallowed up by the crowd in the ballroom. “Susanna mia, you have my highest praise. You were wonderful.”
“But Gianni, I mean Lord John. You walked right past me.”
“We had not been introduced. How could I pretend to know you?”
Susan still felt lost. “You mean Lord John was never introduced to me?”
“Exactly, cara mia. What explanation would I have for being acquainted with you if I had been away from England?”
“What did Lady Renwick say when she saw you? And Caro?”
Gianni took her hands in his. “Ah, Susan, if they noticed a resemblance between Lord John Stansberry and Gianni DiFerrante, they never mentioned it.”
“You mean they did not know you?”
“People of society do not look very closely at menials. It never entered Lady Renwick’s head that I am also the Gianni who spent so many afternoons in her music room. Nor could such a strange idea have occurred to Lady Caroline, especially when she was so excited after your performance. When they heard the name of Lord John Stansberry, Gianni DiFerrante was far from their thoughts. But you recognized me, carissima mia. Come with me into the ballroom.”
He led her to the edge of the guests assembled to watch the dancing. “We can join the next set.”
Susan gave a little gasp and backed away. Abruptly the sadness of the occasion overwhelmed her and she fought to control her threatening tears. “Oh, no, we cannot. Come back to the foyer, please.”
His expression quizzical, he returned with her to the anteroom.
“Gianni, I must explain. I must…oh, I have to tell you I cannot go to Italy.”
“What?” He looked stricken, then broke into a smile. “Do not tease, dolci mia.”
“It would be a terrible scandal. It would ruin my sisters and perhaps kill my mother.” Susan let all her fears and doubts tumble out. “I thought I was able to make my own decisions. I thought I could be as unconventional as I wanted to be. But I cannot. I have obligations to my family. When I go to Italy, it will be as I told you when we met, as a companion to a lady or governess to a child.”
She searched for a handkerchief, but there had not been room since the folded-up poem filled in her reticule.
He handed her his own handkerchief and kissed the tear that spilled down her cheek. “It is all there in my Valentine poem.”
“I could not read it. I knew some of the words but not enough, and the grammar is beyond me.” She choked back her weeping and dried her eyes. “Now as Lord John, you cannot tutor me. I will search out a new tutor, then find a position.” She tried to smile. “After all, you had excellent suggestions for my advertisement in the Times.”
A large man of late middle years joined them, putting his arm around Gianni. “Please introduce me to Miss Kimball.”
Gianni cast him a fond look. “May I present His Grace, the Duke of Bainbridge, Miss Kimball. Richard, I was just about to tell Susan I would like to announce our betrothal in a few weeks. In fact, I hope to speak to her father here tonight.”
Susan wondered if she had strayed into a scene from a drama or one of those silly pantomimes. Nothing made sense to her.
His grace and his brother continued to talk for a few moments. Susan hoped she was saying the right things and making the correct gestures. She could not stop looking at Gianni, focusing on his shapely lips as he formed the words, though these were in English and not in the Italian she was trying to imitate.
She realized the duke was speaking to her. “You have a lovely voice, Miss Kimball. I look forward to hearing you frequently as a member of my family.”
She fought to recover her poise. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
The duke bowed again. “John, I shall see you later. Miss Kimball, it has been my pleasure.”
Gianni clasped her hand as she curtsied deeply.
The duke disappeared down the stairs.
Gianni grinned. “My brother is the soul of discretion.”
“He was indeed kind to me.”
“Susan, where is your father? I wish to speak to him as soon as possible.”
“My father?”
“Of course, carissima mia. I need to see your father to ask for your hand in marriage.”
She shook her head in astonishment and took a trembling breath. “Ask for my hand?”
“Well, ask to call upon you. He would no doubt think me a clod if I proposed marriage after one evening’s acquaintance. I have an idea. Come with me.” He took her hand and led her downstairs to the ground floor, through the entrance hall, and into a tiny room. “This is where Antonio and I left our coats.”
He shut the door. The only light came through a small window from the flambeaux placed outside. “Let me explain. I spoke with my brother the other day and told him about you. He agrees that my services to His Majesty’s Government are nearly over. He gave us his blessing, though we will have to wait a few weeks to announce our betrothal. No one will ever know that we have known one another for many weeks already.”
Susan still did not understand. “Betrothal? But what about going off to Italy?”
“My work here is over. We will make our voyage a wedding trip.”
“You say betrothal, wedding. I am confused.”
“
Did you not read my Valentine capriccio?”
“I could not translate all the words.”
“I fear I am a poor poet, but I tried to say everything there in the poem. I titled it A Valentine Poem, and know that my feelings are not capricious. My love is anything but a fantasy, cara mia.”
Susan felt the melting need begin inside her. Or perhaps the feeling was Peg’s fluttering chicks.
Gianni continued. “We could run away to Italy together as lovers if we were Susanna and Gianni. But as Susan and John, we must take the conventional route, be true to our families.”
Was she hearing things? Was this an illusion? Or was he truly here, talking to her?
“Susanna mia, I promise you when we are married, we will always be Susanna and Gianni to each other. Our lives will be filled with poetry and moments of unexpected joy.”
“Gianni? Are you speaking to me or reading a poem?”
He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “I do not wonder that my poem was incomprehensible. All I know is that we must be together.” He kissed her forehead. “Now can we go find your father?”
“He despises balls. He came only to see me sing. If he is still here, he will be in the card room. But Gianni, wait.”
“Yes, carissima mia?”
“If you are going to ask him if you may court me, do you not think you should have my permission first?”
He held her close and spoke into her hair. “Do I not already have your pledge to go to Italy with me?”
“That was Susanna speaking to Gianni.”
“Then, my dear Miss Kimball, I humbly beg your consent to my petition to your father asking to pay my addresses to you. Is that proper enough for you?”
She drew back to see his face. “It sounds perfectly appropriate for Lord John Stansberry. I agree.”
The laughter in his eyes softened, changing to the glow of passion. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Bellissima mia, have I told you how lovely you look tonight?”
She leaned into him, crushing his cravat, and turned up her face for his kiss.
But instead of touching his mouth to hers, his lips were at her ear, whispering softly. “Te amo, carissima mia. Te amo.”
- La Fine -
About the Author
Victoria Hinshaw is a Regency era devotee, lover of Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer, an avid traveler, and frequent blogger on all things historical and British. Victoria welcomes you and invites you to sample more. For more stories, novellas, and novels from Victoria Hinshaw, please visit:
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