When the last of the cannoli dessert had been eaten, I lowered my napkin and announced, “I am tired. I think I’ll go to bed.” I gave the prince a tight smile. “It’s been a really long day.”
Zeno got to his feet and offered me his arm once again. I threaded my arm through his, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fine thread of his suit. He watched me warily out of the corner of his eye. He was trying to decipher if he had genuinely hurt me. He hadn’t, of course. I was just numb. Immobilized by sudden waves of sadness.
Zeno led me back through the house, up the steps of the left staircase and down a wide hallway. Imposing crystal chandeliers hung from the Renaissance-inspired painted ceilings. I wasn’t sure how far back this home went, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if those ceilings had been the work of Michelangelo himself.
The red carpet was plush and soft under my feet; the air was permeated with the fragrant smell of roses. That was no surprise when every six feet or so a large vase of the white flowers stood proudly on a glass table.
Zeno stopped at a set of gilded double doors at the end of the hallway. “These are your rooms.”
I inhaled deeply. Forcing a smile onto my face, I looked up at him. “Thank you for dinner.”
He gave a curt nod and, in the gentlemanly gesture that had been instilled in him, took my hand and brought it to his lips. He laid a gentle kiss on the back of my hand. “Sleep well, Duchessa. I will not be here when you wake. I have business to attend to in Florence.”
“How long will you be gone?”
Zeno tensed, then shrugged. “I could be gone for many days. Maybe a week or two. Or more, depending on how things turn out.” He sighed. “It is the wine harvest from this week, Caresa. I must go to the vineyards and show my face. I must show an active interest in all our vineyards. Then there are all the meetings with buyers.”
I gave a tight smile of understanding. I knew the harvest was the most important time of the year for Savona Wines. Of course I did. It was when my papa was busiest in the US—securing buyers, promoting the new vintages, attending awards ceremonies, celebrations and dinners.
Zeno didn’t look enthusiastic about his duties. Also, he did not ask me to accompany him. That fact had not escaped me.
“Okay,” I murmured and turned to open my door.
“You will have some dinners and fittings, etcetera,” Zeno said. I looked at him over my shoulder. “The festive season is almost upon us. We have several engagements to appear at together: the annual Savona grape-crushing festival, the winter masked ball, and . . .”
I wondered what he was struggling to say. Zeno rocked on his feet then cleared his throat. “And the coronation dinner.”
Zeno’s eyes met the floor. The coronation—his ascension to king. Of course, he was not yet the king. He was not really a prince anymore. But in our society, he was now our king, or soon would be, after the coronation.
“Will that be here?” I inquired.
Zeno ran his hand over his forehead. “Maybe. I have not yet set a date, but it must happen soon. It” —he took a sobering breath— “it has all happened so quickly that I have not yet had time to contemplate arrangements. Business must come first.”
He waved his hand theatrically in front of his face, signaling the end of the conversation. “I’ve kept you far too long.” He began to walk away. “I will see you soon. Maria will be your personal secretary. She will inform you of all the engagements we have coming up and organize your new clothes, fittings for the ball, dinners and, of course, the. . . our much-anticipated wedding.”
I gave a quick nod and went into my room, shutting the door behind me. I leaned against the coldness of the golden panel and closed my eyes. I counted to ten, then opened my eyes.
The rooms before me were no less grand than the rest of the estate. I walked through the large living space, taking in the elegant white-and-gold walls, running my fingers over the beautiful pieces of furniture. A large doorway led to a bedroom that boasted a huge antique four-poster bed. Floor-to-ceiling French windows opened onto a balcony with a view of the vineyards. But what I loved was that in the far distance I could see the picturesque town of Orvieto. For some reason, I knew it would make me feel less lonely.
The bathroom was luxurious, with its claw-foot tub and rain shower. My closet already contained my clothes. My toiletries, perfumes and cosmetics were already at the vanity.
There was nothing left to do.
Catching sight of the moon through the balcony doors, I walked outside and leaned against the balustrade. I breathed in the freshness of the air, only to hear the sound of a car crunching on gravel. A black town car was disappearing into the distance.
I expelled a humorless laugh. The prince was hurrying back to Florence.
He wouldn't even stay a single night.
Feeling exhausted, I took a shower and climbed into bed. As I reached over to the nightstand to turn off the light, I noticed a picture hanging on the wall beside my bed. A woman, dressed in a regal purple dress, posing for the painter. I didn’t know why, but my eyes were glued to her image. She had the darkest of hair and beautiful brown eyes.
She was radiant: a former queen of Italy.
As my eyelids drooped, pulled down by the lure of sleep, I wondered what her life had been like as Queen of Italy. I wondered if she spent days here in the royal country estate.
But my last thought, as my eyes closed and my world turned to dark, was . . . was she ever happy?
Chapter Three
Caresa
Maria, my secretary, was just rising from her seat as I walked from my bedroom into the living area. I had been at Bella Collina for three days. In those three days, I had been fitted for evening wear and taken to lunches with the aristocrats of the Umbrian area, although not many resided this far out of Florence. And there was still no word from Prince Zeno.
Maria frowned when she saw me in my running leggings and long-sleeved top. I had thrown my hair up into a high bun and wore absolutely no makeup.
“I feel the need to get out of this house,” I said as I sat down to tie the laces of my sneakers. “I need a run in the fresh air.”
“Very well, Duchessa.” Maria gathered her things. “I would keep to the garden paths if I were you. The harvest has begun and the vineyards are busy.”
I nodded and walked toward the door; Maria followed behind. “I’ll be gone for the next several days. I am needed in Assisi. You don’t have anything pressing until your first ladies’ luncheon.” She cast me a wide smile. “You have time to relax and get to know the estate. The grounds are beautiful, and there will be lots to see.”
“And the prince?” I asked, mainly because I thought I should.
Maria shook her head. “He has had to go to Turin today. I don’t know when he will get back.” She pressed her hand on my arm. “His father was a workaholic. I would prepare yourself for his son to be the same.”
We reached the main doors and stepped out into the crisp fall air. Maria kissed me on each cheek then bade me farewell.
I cast a glance around the pathways and decided to go left toward the surrounding forest. I turned on my phone, put in my earphones and let the up-tempo beats of my jogging playlist hit my ears. I pushed my feet as fast as they would go, heart slamming in my chest with the sheer freedom of the run.
I thought back to yesterday. Maria had given me a stack of glossy brochures to look through. There had been no formal proposal, no engagement ring, yet the wedding preparations were already underway.
I ran and ran until the pathway gave out. It looped, trying to tempt me back to the mansion, but I wasn’t ready. I looked beyond the pathway. All that lay ahead were fields of vines.
In an instant, a flash of memory from my childhood came rushing back to me. Of me running through the vineyards in my Parma home, leaves kissing my outstretched fingers as I passed. I picked up my feet and ran through the rows of vines. I tilted my head to feel the midday sun on my skin.
Song after song played. I kept on running, my speeding feet keeping time with the beat of the music. I ran so far that when I stopped for breath and looked around me, I realized I had absolutely no idea where I was.
I flicked the earbud headphones from my ears and tried to listen for signs of life. I could hear the harvest continuing in the distance, but nothing close by. I rose to my tiptoes, scouring the area for any sign of activity. Nothing but fields with their rows of green lay before me. Except for what looked like a small cottage about three hundred yards away.