As if conjured from a dream, Adam strode across the square. Instead of joining the chattering company, he headed for the shop next to the café. Statues ranged around the doorway and, inside, a variety of ancient Roman wares were displayed for sale, from wine ewers to mosaics. Except that most of them were nothing of the kind. If Delphi had to guess at their ages, she’d say they were at most a year old.
Ignoring the company watching him from the tables set before the café, Adam got into conversation with the shopkeeper. Delphi sat too far away to hear what he was saying. “Perhaps we should help Kilsyth,” the Duchess of Beauchamp observed, speaking loudly so he could hear her. She could hardly have called out to him, but she did her best to attract his attention, short of waving madly and calling his name.
Delphi rolled her eyes, and Matilda laughed. “He seems in a hurry,” she said in a more conversational tone.
“I am surprised she is not over there already,” the duchess pronounced. She didn’t mention Delphi by name, but she did cast a pointed stare at their table.
Already on edge, Delphi gritted her teeth and reached for the coffee pot. “We should go home to change for dinner,” she said, doing her best to ignore Lady Beauchamp. Obviously she was the woman the duchess was referring to.
“Did you know, my dears, that the lady has shown more than partiality to his grace of Kilsyth? One has seen them embracing. She goes down to Trajan’s Column every day, a positive tryst, as it turns out.” A couple of the people at her table tittered. Not Lord Joshua Stuart, Delphi noted, although she would have died rather than look in his direction more than once. He might notice. “I believe we have the makings of a scandal on our hands.”
“I doubt it,” Lord Joshua said. “Manners are more relaxed here. Could you imagine sitting like this outside a coffee house in London? Or even women visiting them?”
“High time they did,” another man, someone Delphi didn’t know, said.
“Women make far too much of themselves as it is,” Beauchamp commented. Until now, he’d remained silent, seemingly content to drink his coffee and watch the day go by. Instantly contrite, his wife laid her hand over his. “Indeed, my dear, of course. But even in Rome, a man does not kiss a lady he is not related to in public. Surely Roman society is not so lax as that!”
Delphi turned her head, so the lady couldn’t see her expression, Matilda raised a brow, and quirked her mouth into a half-smile. “Would you attempt to teach me my place?”
In response, her husband burst into sudden laughter. “If I’d wanted a complacent wife, I wouldn’t have married you, my love. What is life but a succession of starts and challenges?”
“Correct,” Matilda said, and spread her fan, wafting it with an air of ennui. “One becomes so bored at times, that one makes up stories to amuse oneself.”
A rebuttal of the Duchess of Beauchamp’s comment, if Delphi was not mistaken. But not so obvious that the duchess could take offense.
She’d gone cold, the warmth of the sun no longer penetrating her. A chill ran down her spine. Someone had seen them that day when Adam had kissed her. She was finished.
“Do we go to the opera house tonight, my dear?” Matilda asked.
“If you wish to, then that is what we will do.”
Matilda patted her husband’s hand in direct imitation of the Duchess of Beauchamp’s action of a moment ago. He smiled at her.
The quiet togetherness touched Delphi far more than any extravagant display of devotion. She would never know that kind of happiness.
Apparently oblivious, the Duchess of Beauchamp continued to speak. “I know manners here are more relaxed than at home. Naturally, we must give a degree of understanding for that, but not when they continue to carry on in the full glare of society! Do they not think the gossip will not reach their loving family at home? Do they not agree that they must behave with the same propriety they would in London…?”
Her voice rose in pitch, until Lord Joshua caught her gaze. Abruptly, she stopped.
His action astonished Delphi. She turned her attention to Matilda, but looked over her shoulder instead, to where Lord Joshua had quelled the Duchess of Beauchamp in full flow.
She met his gaze, caught it. The duchess’ mouth opened, then closed, and color flushed into her cheeks. Then she said something, so quietly that, strain her ears though she might, Delphi couldn’t hear her. When she spoke again, her voice had returned to its usual timbre, pitched at her normal piercing tone, but not as frantically as before. “Of course, I am not speaking of anyone in particular. Just the general laissez-faire of behavior sometimes shocks me. I’ve seen evidence all over Europe, even at the French court. We need to remind our young men that they are expected to behave like the gentlemen they claim to be.”
“Nicely diverted,” Matilda murmured, sotto voce. “Or I would have gone over there and given her a piece of my mind. The opera house,” she continued seamlessly. “Of course I would enjoy going.”
Yes. Delphi wanted that kind of relationship. If she didn’t get it, then she would make do with nothing. Or rather, a circle of friends, rather than one particular person. After all, Matilda had not found love until she was well over forty. Although Delphi couldn’t imagine that happening to her, she had plenty to occupy her in the meantime. She wouldn’t allow the lack of a husband to send her into a decline. Nor would she let the spiteful words of some people send her into a decline.
But all the brave words did not heal the wound inside her, the constant fear of being found wanting.
Adam had remained out of hearing of the people chattering outside the café. At least Delphi assumed so, since he remained deep in conversation with the owner of the shop, showing no sign of hearing what the duchess was saying. Delphi sipped her cold coffee, just for something to do, rather than twiddle with her fan or show any sign that the criticisms had affected her in the least.
“We should leave soon,” Trensom said. “We have a great deal to do if we are to get to the opera house in time for the first act. Do we have guests for dinner?”
“Six,” Matilda told him. “Including two cardinals. They won’t be joining us for the rest of the evening.”
“Then we must take care not to wear red,” her husband responded. “The clash of colors would disturb the appetite.”
“I’ve not noticed anything that has disturbed your appetite,” Matilda responded, only to stop short when laughter informed her of her unintentional double entendre.
Not disturbed by the laughter, she collected her belongings, including her fan, her lacy handkerchief and a small case that contained who knew what. Last year, Matilda would not have owned such an exquisite piece. It had an original painting on the lid surrounded by tiny diamonds. Her husband was forever pressing gifts on her.
Her afternoon spoiled by the Duchess of Beauchamp’s spiteful remarks, Delphi gladly got to her feet. As she did, a movement caught her attention. Adam had seen her. His head turned in her direction, and he bowed slightly before returning to his conversation. At least he’d acknowledged her.
They had to go past the shop to get to the end of the piazza where their carriage waited. As they did, she heard Adam agreeing to an appalling price for the statue he was running his gaze over. The thing purported to be a half-naked Venus, set in contrapposto, her lower body concealed by drapery. The figure was about three feet high. And it was horrible, truly awful.
Before she’d properly considered her actions, Delphi strode over to the shop, past the appalling examples of sculpture to the worst one of all. “That,” she said without preamble, “is a copy of a famous sculpture. Every visitor to Rome comes home with one of these. The original was carved in the second or third century AD. But this is not the original. It was probably made last year.”
“And good afternoon to you, Lady Delphi,” Adam said, humor coloring his voice.
She bobbed him a light curtsey. “Your grace, you cannot pay that outrageous sum for this monstrosity. Look, you can see the fresh chis
el marks.”
“Yes, remarkable, is it not?” he said. “So crisp.” When she opened her mouth to reply, he continued as if he hadn’t noticed. “Such a well preserved example can’t go to a rowdy youth newly out of Oxford. He does not deserve it and I am determined to have it.”
Delphi gestured angrily. “This man is making a fool of you.”
The shopkeeper burst into voluble Italian, so fast that Delphi couldn’t follow him. Her Italian was what she would describe as functional; her Latin was better. But she didn’t need to know the details to understand his gist. He objected to what she had said in the most extreme way. This liar, this female…
She smiled. “You may say what you want, but it doesn’t change the obvious conclusion. Look at this…” She traced her finger down a fresh chisel mark, taking care not to cut herself. “I imagine the tool that did this is somewhere on your property. You could have chosen a decent sculptor, at least, especially when you are charging so much for the thing.”
The shopkeeper waved at her and went off on another tirade.
Adam stopped the man dead when he drew a purse out of his pocket and tossed it to him. “I daresay this would be enough.”
The shopkeeper weighed it in his hand. Tossed it into the air and caught it.
When she would have spoken again, Adam pressed two fingers against her lips. Shocked at the contact, the current running through her, Delphi jerked back. He never kept his gaze off her. And he was smiling. That intimate, warm smile did something to her insides.
“I’m buying it,” he said. “And if you’re not careful, I’ll present it to you as a wedding gift.”
A tumult of reaction filled Delphi to the brim, and she didn’t know which emotion to deal with first. The open acknowledgement of something she hadn’t agreed to, the touch in public, as if he had a right to do it, or the stupidity of the man who was even now paying the shopkeeper an obscene amount of money for the worthless, ugly statue.
Words had left her. Coherence was quickly following, melting into the air above their heads.
“What…?” The faint sound broke the air between them, shattered it into a million pieces, and she could speak again. “What are you talking about?”
And there, in front of Italian society, he went down on one knee in the dirt. Taking her hand, he pressed a fervent kiss to the back.
She tugged.
He resisted, remaining where he was. He lifted his gaze to her face. “Lady Delphi, you must know that I have admired you forever. I can no longer deny my feelings for you—my love. And I can no longer wait. Would you consider making me the happiest man in the world by accepting my hand in marriage, so that I may adore you through eternity?”
Sighs broke out from every quarter. Those that could not hear would not fail to understand what they were witnessing. A hush fell. Nobody spoke. A woman giggled and the sound echoed off the ancient stones.
“What are you doing?” she demanded in a fierce whisper.
“Proposing, my sweet.”
She tugged his hand again. “Get up, do.”
“Not until I have my answer.”
He must have stunned her because only now did the bolt strike her.
He was giving her the revenge she yearned for. Handing it to her on a plate. This was what she had worked for, what she wanted. What she’d said she wanted, at any rate. To reject him as cruelly as he had rejected her, and to walk away. If she said no now, everyone would see. She could leave him in the dirt, rejected and humiliated.
She might be labeled a flirt, but no more than that. Trensom would make sure of it.
But then she recalled Matilda’s words, urging her to listen to her heart. Without a doubt, if she sent Adam away now, he’d never come back. Did she want that? Truly?
The answer came immediately. No, she didn’t. She didn’t want him with anyone else, she wanted him for herself. Her heart told her that, when she stilled her turbulent thoughts and listened to the truth deep inside. He showed her his truth in his eyes. She couldn’t resist him.
What was that against petty revenge?
“Yes. Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.” Not until she heard herself did she believe it.
Her voice carried on the wind, although she hadn’t spoken loudly and a pattering sound, like gentle rain, followed. Applause. They were applauding.
Getting to his feet, Adam tucked her hand firmly into his. He was smiling, so happy. “Thank you.”
He spoke loud enough for the whole blasted square to hear, if they had a mind to. And they did. The silence still held. “I am the happiest man in the world. You fulfill all my dreams. I never dared believe that you would accept me, my angel.”
What was he talking about? Why here, why now? While she gaped, he moved her hand and looped it through his arm. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
He glanced over his shoulder as if he’d only just noticed they had an audience. An avid one.
A presence came up behind her, sheltering her from the sun. “Congratulations,” Trensom said, his voice even deeper than usual. “We must make haste to arrange the ceremony.”
Adam beckoned, and two footmen arrived, seemingly from nowhere. “Put the statue in the carriage,” he ordered, not taking his gaze from her. Those clear blue eyes were sending a silent message, but what, she couldn’t guess.
Astonishment gave way to simmering anger. He’d made a complete spectacle of himself, and her, too. Why could he not have waited to ask her, like a civilized person?
Fear of saying the wrong thing, of pouring a tirade over his head and creating even more gossip kept her silent. She was doomed, that was for sure.
And much to her shock, she actually looked forward to it.
Chapter Twelve
Somehow Kilsyth got Delphi aboard his carriage, and transported to his home on the Spanish Steps. The short journey—passed. Delphi did not know how.
She found herself alone with Adam in his elegant drawing room.
All she could recall was Adam pressing a glass of brandy into her hand and bidding her drink.
The jolt of the spirits brought her back to some semblance of reality, although she still felt she’d catapulted into a different world, like her own but slightly different. She wasn’t even sure of her own name anymore.
“What am I missing?” she mumbled, turning the glass in her hand. “Why are you buying a terrible statue? Why did you say…did you really ask me to marry you?”
“I did.” His firm assertion dragged her back to earth. “And you accepted.”
“Why would you do that? What kind of damage have you done?” Questions crowded her mind, but she had no answers to any of them.
His mouth firmed. “I’m so glad you view our marriage in that way.” His expression told her he meant the opposite.
“I didn’t mean that.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I think.”
Gently, he took the glass and put it down, returning to take her hand in his. “The Trensoms will no doubt arrive directly, but I wanted to speak to you privately first.”
She stared at him, trying to organize her thoughts.
“We’ll make everything right, I promise you,” he assured her.
She wanted to lean on him, to let him arrange everything. But she resisted her impulse. Delphi had always organized her own life, and she wouldn’t stop now. “How?”
He folded her hands between his, warm and secure. But she wouldn’t succumb, she wouldn’t allow her emotions to take control. People had swung from the gallows for allowing that to happen.
“Tell me the truth. Everything,” Delphi said.
When she tried to pull her hands away, he held on to them. “I’ll explain it all, including what an idiot I’ve been.”
It was time. More than time, if truth be told. He could not and should not hold anything back from her.
He started at the beginning. “I wanted to propose to you in London, but I received news that would have made you and me exiles for life. How could I bri
ng you into that?”
She frowned. “So you are a Jacobite?”
He hastened to disabuse her of that. “No, never.”
“I didn’t think you were, but everything pointed to it.” She sipped her drink.
Adam put down his empty glass and took her to a sofa, waiting until she’d settled her skirts until he took his own seat.
She listened in silence as he told her what he’d done and why. His brother missing from the army, as he was originally told. The government playing games with him, knowing his vulnerability after his father had turned traitor. “They always played those kinds of tricks, pushed me further. But now I have all the power and money I need to tell them to go to Hades. That was when they turned to Frederick.”
He outlined his frantic searches for his brother, after he received vague assurances from Frederick’s commanding officer. His abortive visits to the peripatetic, shambling court of The Young Pretender, and his desperation to reach Rome. “I nearly risked crossing the Alps in winter.” He shook his head at his own foolishness.
“It would have killed you for sure,” she said, her face paling.
“I was desperate. I sent for my yacht to come from Scotland, but it was iced in at Leith. So I had to wait.”
That unbearable waiting time. “I wrote to you, but I only assured you I was well, apologized for my absence and asked you to wait.”
“It seems you always do that.”
“No more,” he assured her, reaching out to take her free hand. She let it lay in his, which gave him some comfort. “I was a fool, Delphi. I should have written more than once. Letters from the Continent go astray all the time, and I knew that. Perhaps I let fate take a hand in affairs. I fully expected to find you betrothed or married when I saw you again. I can’t tell you how much that hurt.”
He ached just thinking about it.
He brightened. “But you are not. And so you are mine.”
She primmed her lips. “That remains to be seen.” She finished her drink and put the glass on the sofa table. “Tell me the rest.”
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