“Finally!” Jasper said as he hurried up to Marianne and bussed her on the cheek. He gave a bow to the ladies. “We’re famished, and we have good reason to be.” He held out an arm and swept it through the air. “Look what we’ve uncovered today.” He helped himself to the basket as James joined them, bowing to the ladies before he angled his head.
“Did you have an accident?” James asked when he noticed their dirt-stained gowns.
Marianne gave a start and used a gloved hand to swipe at the ground-in dirt staining her skirts. “We’ve been doing some excavating of our own,” she replied, her gaze taking in the patterns in the mosaics the men had been working to reveal. “Is that Poseidon?” she asked. She noted that all the smaller mosaics surrounding a trident-carrying man were of sea creatures and shells. The tiles were all cream, black or rust in color.
“Neptune,” Jasper replied, rather impressed his wife had been able to visualize the god of the sea, especially since so many of the small tesserae were missing from the overall design. “It’s most definitely Roman,” he announced proudly. After a pause, he regarded the two women with a furrowed brow. “Were you planting a garden?” he asked then, noting the tools in Chiara’s basket.
Marianne exchanged glances with Chiara. “We uncovered some mosaics up by the path to San Nicola,” she replied. She dipped her head. “Chiara saw what looked like what you have been cleaning, so we started to do the same as you were doing. The dirt brushed away easily. I had several tiles uncovered in only a few minutes.”
“You did?” Incredulous, Jasper furrowed a brow. “Where? Were they... intact?”
Dipping her head again, Marianne gave a shrug. “Just up by the path to the church. On the other side of that row of olive trees,” she said as she pointed up the hill.
Jasper frowned. “How…?”
“I noticed some tiles in the ground next to the path. Your wife was kind enough to help me expose them,” Chiara explained, thinking Jasper was about to chide his wife for attempting to do what he was there to accomplish. “As I expected, they are not from a wealthy villa or a temple.”
James paused in his perusal of the food basket, a wedge of cheese gripped in one hand. “Could you make out the design?” he asked, his curiosity apparent. “Was there a signature?”
The two women exchanged glances. “I’m quite sure I didn’t see a signature, but they are not large like this one,” Marianne replied. “Rather small, really, and of no consequence.”
Continuing to frown, Jasper wondered why his wife seemed so hesitant. “Will you show me?” he asked, ready to leave his own discovery to determine what had her so nervous.
Allowing a sigh, Marianne finally said, “Of course.” She placed a hand on Jasper’s proffered arm and dared a glance back at James and Chiara, surprised to find them directly behind them.
“I’m just as curious,” James said then. “Why, from the way you’re blushing, I’m of a mind to think you’ve discovered the site of an old brothel,” he accused with a hint of humor.
“You have the right of it,” Chiara said as she walked next to the younger archaeologist.
“I do?” James replied, obviously surprised he had guessed correctly.
Jasper dared a glance over at Marianne, understanding why she seemed so embarrassed. And then they were suddenly standing next to the find, the four distinct patterns clearly depicting people engaged in the “Roman arts.”
Many people.
He glanced around the area, rather surprised to discover there was only one hint of a foundation block—the stone on which Marianne had been sitting to read a book—and a faint flatness to the land around them compared to the adjacent path that led to the church. A row of olive trees lined one side of the flat area. “I admit to a bit of shock that a brothel could be found so close to a church,” he managed to get out as he placed his hands on his hips and studied the surrounding land.
“Indeed,” James said as he walked what he thought might have been the perimeter of the building. “Ah, here’s some of the foundation,” he said as he discovered the tops of some stone blocks barely visible in the ground. He continued to walk, backtracking a bit when he realized he had missed a turn. “And some more,” he announced triumphantly before he made another turn. The single stone block turned out to be a corner stone. “Now the question is, how do we preserve it?”
“Cover it over,” Jasper said with a shrug.
At James’ look of disbelief, Jasper pointed toward the church. “Do you really think it’s wise to leave these exposed? So close to the church?” he asked.
“We’re going to document them before we do so,” James argued. “This is an important find! And it’s Roman.”
Jasper finally nodded. “Agreed. But any further work will have to wait until we’re finished with the other one,” he reminded his colleague. “Let’s hope no one is scandalized in the meantime.”
He was quite sure his wife was already scandalized.
As for Chiara, she merely seemed amused by it all.
Chapter 29
A Former Lover Focuses on the Future
Later that afternoon
The sun dipped behind behind the trees as Chiara made her way back to her villa from the church, her strides long through the deepening shadows. She was nearly to the entrance to her villa’s courtyard when she realized someone walked behind her. A thought that Angela might have already been dismissed by Lady Henley was soon replaced with the realization that the steps were far too loud and too far apart to be those of the girl.
Chiara dared a glance over one shoulder, a bit concerned when she didn’t see anyone behind her. She turned in the other direction and nearly let out a yelp.
“Don’t scream, I beg you.”
She took a step back, rather stunned to find Darius Jones regarding her from only a few feet away. A quick glance down the lane proved they were the only ones about. “I should make you give me a reason,” she replied, annoyed the archaeologist would follow her to her home.
“I wished to a have word,” Darius said as he gave a bow. He was about to reach for her hand, but Chiara took another step back.
“There is nothing to say,” she replied in a voice tinged with anger.
Darius recoiled as if he had been hit. “Then would you allow me to simply look upon you? I have an appreciation for beautiful things, you see...”
He later realized he really should have taken Chiara at her word. Should have bowed and taken his leave of her. But Darius was determined to renew his acquaintance with the woman from his past.
The best part of his last trip to Italy. The reason he had agreed to join Lord Henley this season.
He didn’t notice how her right arm straightened, nor how her hand closed into a tight fist, or how her body tensed until that arm suddenly swung around and her fist impacted his cheek with a force he hadn’t felt since his last bare-knuckle match at Cambridge. A force that sent him sprawling to the dirt below.
Chiara’s hands were suddenly covering her mouth as she stared at Darius’ prone body. “Oh!” she gasped, daring a glance toward the villa and another down the hill to determine if anyone had paid witness to what she had done. A lone figure was on the road, but she couldn’t make out who it might be. Shaking out her right hand, Chiara felt annoyance at the pain that radiated up her arm.
“Ow!”
The delayed complaint had her turning her attention back to Darius. He placed a hand against the side of his face, grimacing as he raised his eyes to regard her in shock.
“Ow,” he said again, blinking before he displayed a huge grin. He winced in the middle of it though. “How is it you are still so bellissimo?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Chiara blinked as she stared down at him. Despite his sweat-soaked dirty clothes and the twenty years of what appeared to be days spent out-of-doors and nights spent carousing, her belly did a flip. A memory of nights long ago had her breasts growing heavy. A frisson passed through her entire body, and she cursed
in Italian as her hands went to her hips. “Damn you, Darius Jones,” she cursed.
From where he lay on the ground looking up at his first and only love, Darius allowed a sigh. “God, I’ve missed you.”
Frowning, Chiara continued to glare at him for a moment. “I thought to knock some sense into you, but I see I have only made you worse,” she said in response. She held out a hand and Darius eyed it, as if he expected it might strike him again. He finally gripped it and struggled to stand as she jerked on it.
“Grazie,” he said as he straightened. He regarded her for a moment before saying, “I deserved that. I will always regret having left you all those years ago.”
Blinking at the unexpected words, Chiara frowned before her chin lifted in defiance. “Then, why did you?”
Darius dipped his head and then glanced toward her villa. “May I tell you over a glass of wine?” he asked hopefully.
“No,” Chiara replied before she turned and disappeared behind the door to the villa. The sound of a bolt being thrown made its way to Darius, and he knew his opportunity to make amends was not to be.
At least, not on this night.
Upon seeing Jasper Henley make his way up the hill from the Greco-Roman quarter, David hurried to the kitchen in the familia villa. A kitchen maid armed David with one of the ever-present pails of hot water from the stove. Despite the protests of the household laundress, he helped himself to a stack of newly-washed bath linens and made his way out of the villa.
He was nearly to the courtyard door when he heard a man’s voice beyond. A voice he didn’t recognize, speaking in English. Then would you allow me to simply look upon you? I have an appreciation for beautiful things, you see. David winced and sucked air through his teeth even before he heard the resulting commotion and the man’s loud “ow!”
His mother would never allow a man to speak to her using such flowery language. She rarely allowed men to speak with her at all, except perhaps the butcher, and then only because she needed his meat for their dinner table.
Daring a peek through the space between the gate and the courtyard wall, he watched as his mother lifted her hands to her hips and cursed the culprit.
David blinked when he recognized the older man lying in the dirt. Dr. Jones, he was sure, an archaeologist who was employing some of his boyhood friends to excavate the ancient aqueduct in the Greco-Roman quarter.
Despite having knocked the man to the ground, his mother helped him to his feet before shaking out her injured hand. Quiet words were exchanged—he could only make out I deserved that. I will always regret having left you all those years ago—but he could tell from his mother’s stance that she was angry with the archaeologist.
There was a moment when he thought Dr. Jones was going to kiss his mother, and she almost looked as if she would allow him to do so. But at his query about a glass of wine, she was suddenly at the gate.
Stepping back to avoid being hit by the heavy wooden door, David held his breath as his mother flung open the gate, passed through the opening, slammed it shut, and threw the bolt before stalking into the house. In her anger and haste, she didn’t even seem to notice him standing beyond the hinges.
His shoulders slumping, Darius turned and started to make his way back down the hill when he realized Jasper Henley was watching him from the entrance to the guest villa. “The show is over,” he called out.
Jasper shook his head. “Then why does it appear as if it’s only just beginning?” he countered with an arched brow.
Darius allowed a sigh when he was abreast of the viscount. “Because it is a long story?” he offered.
Nodding, Jasper waved to the courtyard door of the guest villa. “One you could share with me over dinner,” he said by way of invitation. He had paid witness to his wife’s companion walloping the man and wondered what Darius had said to deserve such a response. Having paid witness to how the two reacted to one another the first day they saw each other, and then when they were introduced the night before, he sorted they must have known each other in the past.
And not just socially.
Considering his colleague’s words for a moment, Darius finally allowed a nod of his own. “As long as I’m allowed to clean up. I forgot how filthy I get here in the Mediterranean,” he complained.
“Agreed,” Jasper said with a chuckle, his head ducking to take in his own dirt-smudged trousers and sweat-streaked shirtsleeves. “Come. My valet can see to some hot water and a change of clothes.”
The two made their way into the guest villa, their noses lifting into the air as the scents of roasting meat and garlic assaulted them. “Oh, how I’ve missed this,” Darius said as they made their way to the master suite. “I’ve a mind to take this cook back to Hexham with me.”
Not having let a house with a cook the last time he was in Italy—he had simply taken a room at an inn—Jasper wondered at how many times Darius had done so. “Where did you stay before? When you were in Rome?” he asked as he made his way to the pitcher and bowl of water.
Since Signora Romano claimed no knowledge of Dr. Jones, he had wondered how the older archaeologist knew to recommend her villa. Now that it was apparent they had known one another—Darius had mentioned Rome to the woman the day before—Jasper was beginning to piece together their past.
“With whom, would be a better question,” Darius replied, pulling his shirt from his body.
David appeared with a stack of bath linens and a pail of water, his gaze darting between Jasper and Darius. Having paid witness to his mother’s assault on the larger man through the edge of the wooden gate, and having heard Dr. Jones’ odd response, he hoped the two would simply ignore him so that he might learn more of his mother’s past with the man.
Darius angled his head. “Il tuo tempismo è perfetto,” he said. Your timing is perfect. He helped himself to a bath linen and scrubbed the sweat from his chest and arms.
Giving the older man a nod, David murmured in Italian, “I’ll see to another bowl of water.”
He made his way into the bathing chamber and listened as Dr. Jones said, “There was a reason I recommended Signora Romano’s guest villa.”
When David reappeared with another bowl of water, Darius leaned over the bowl and splashed water on his face. He took another linen from the valet and wiped his face. “Grazie.”
“And I believe she was ever so grateful for the opportunity,” Jasper replied in a teasing voice. “Let me guess. You loved her, and you left her,” he accused as he finished his ablutions and moved to the chest of drawers. He cursed under his breath, just then remembering David was in the room.
In the room and able to understand English.
He tossed a clean shirt to Darius and sighed when he figured David was probably listening to their every word. He couldn’t blame the young man, though. His ears had probably perked up at hearing the mention of his mother.
Darius pulled on the shirt and gave a nod to David. “Lasciaci, per favore,” he said. Leave us, please.
Hiding his disappointment, David gave a nod and left the bedchamber.
Jasper collected more fresh clothes from his trunk and stood up. “You just dismissed my valet,” he complained. “That’s her son, David, by the way.”
“You can dress yourself,” Darius said, his brows furrowing as he glanced back at the door, as if he regretted having sent the servant away. “I can’t believe you thought to hire a valet whilst you’re on a dig.”
About to add to his complaint—Darius was dripping water all over the bedchamber’s tiled floor—Jasper regarded his guest for a moment before he nodded. “I felt the need to keep up appearances, given I’ve brought my wife along,” he explained. “She’s never been away from British shores, and I shouldn’t want her to think I’ve brought her to a land of savages.” He paused a moment. “Besides, Signora Romano offered to be her companion.”
Darius gave a snort. “Sicilians are hardly savages,” he countered. “More civilized than half of those in London,�
� he added as he held up his filthy shirt. “What else did she offer?”
Frowning at the odd query, Jasper gave a shrug. “David as my valet. Here,” he added as he tossed Darius a cravat from the chest of drawers. “I expect to get it back.” He reached for another and shook it out. “I suppose if you’re familiar with Signora Romano, you’re familiar with the other servants here as well?”
Pulling the shirt over his head, Darius disappeared from view for a moment. When his head popped through the neckline, he shook it. “No. I just... when I got here a couple of months ago, I asked someone I knew down at the marina about her. He told me she had an empty villa—her late husband owned half the hillside—so that’s when I wrote to you. I had mentioned to some of the locals that one of my colleagues would be in need of a place to stay. It’s been over twenty years since I was in Rome, remember, and I was only here on Sicily for a few weeks. Just to see what work there might be to do.”
Furrowing a brow, Jasper regarded Darius as he continued to dress. “So... it’s been over twenty years since you last saw her?”
Darius allowed a shrug as he regarded his waistcoat. Jasper tossed him one, but Darius tossed it back. “Indeed, and I haven’t been able to wear anything that small since I was last in Italy,” he said with a nod to the embroidered waistcoat that had landed in a heap on the bed.
“I don’t have any others,” Jasper replied as he reached out and took the waistcoat for himself.
“I’ll make do,” Darius said, turning to regard his reflection in the room’s only looking glass. He gave a start at what he saw, nearly cursing. No wonder Chiara reacted like she did. I look terrible! he thought. His hair was plastered to his scalp from having worn a wide-brimmed hat all day. A five o’clock shadow darkened his jawline. The barest suggestion of a belly showed behind his shirt.
The Vision of a Viscountess (The Widowers of the Aristocracy Book 2) Page 23