Page 30 of A Courtship in Catania (The Grand Tours of the Aristocracy #1)

CHAPTER 30

CATANIA, FINALLY

T he next day

“Nervous?” Captain St. John asked when he joined Donald at the railing, the harbor of Catania within sight. They had finished breakfast the hour before when a sudden change in the direction of the wind had forced the crew to take down the top mast sail. Another sail had been dropped as Rodney steered The Fairweather closer to the harbor. With every reduction in speed, Donald’s anxiousness grew more apparent.

“That and... excited, I suppose. I don’t even know where to find her,” Donald said on a huff.

“Well, she’ll either be at the castle or at Montblanc’s villa. You do remember where that is, do you not?”

“In Via Dei Crociferi,” Donald murmured. “It’s hard to miss.”

St. John whistled in appreciation as he rolled his eyes, recognizing the name of the street as one of the more impressive in the large city, lined with magnificent villas and churches. “If she’s at the castle, it could take you most of the day to get to it. You should be able to find a coach for hire near the dock.” He knew the rest of the family was below deck, finishing their last-minute packing. No matter what happened with Donald and Nicoletta, the rest of the group had agreed to disembark at Catania to begin their tour of the island.

“I’ve a mind to dock here for a day or two until I learn your fate,” the captain teased.

“Then Nattersley really will take your ship from you,” Will warned with a grin as he stepped up to join them at the railing. Barbara was on his arm, although her attention was on the crew members who were bringing their trunks up from their cabins. Tom, Randy, and David topped the companionway one by one, their gazes immediately going to the skyline. All three carried valises and wore their more formal traveling clothes.

“You have everything packed?” Barbara asked.

“There’s nothing left in those cabins but the furniture,” Randy assured her.

When the servants appeared with their own valises, Will turned to Captain St. John and held out his right hand. “I know you’ll be busy for the next few minutes, so allow me to thank you for all your help on this trip. And for allowing me so much time at the wheel.”

“It was my pleasure,” St. John replied. “With any luck, I’ll be the one taking you back in a year or two,” he added.

“We probably will go out of Rome after we do a tour here and in Greece,” Will said.

A slight bump had them looking beyond the ship. The crew had already begun throwing ropes to the dock, one of the sailors swinging through the air on a rope before he dropped to the wooden planks below to grab the loose ropes and tie them around posts.

“To be twenty years younger,” St. John murmured as he watched his sailors see to securing The Fairweather to the dock.

When the gangway fell to the dock and was in place, one of the crew hurried up and said, “We’re ready for departure, Capt’n.”

St. John inhaled and caught Donald’s gaze. “The very best of luck to all of you,” he said.

“I’ll send word when I have secured a promise of marriage,” Donald said.

“I thought you already had that,” St. John countered.

“Well… a wedding date, then,” Donald amended before he followed his parents, glad to see porters had already appeared to see to their trunks. “You would think they were expecting us,” he added, his comment directed to the captain.

St. John shook his head. “Opportunists,” he claimed with a grin. “Now, go find your girl,” he ordered.

“Aye, Captain,” Donald replied.

Once the entire family was off the ship, Donald led the way to where a hackney was parked. In his rusty Italian, he asked about the Cavarallo lodgings in Via Garibaldi and was assured they would be taken there. By the time his parents and his cousins were ensconced in the hackney, a second had pulled up to take him, David, and the Stevens. Donald couldn’t help but grin at seeing the property he had called home for nearly two months during his last stay in Catania still looking the same as he remembered it.

When he knocked on the door, he was welcomed as if he was a long lost family member. “Signore Slater has returned,” his host cried out, pulling him into an embrace. “I knew you could not stay away,” Pietro Cavarallo claimed, slapping him on the shoulder.

Donald chuckled. “Have you rooms for all of us, Signore Cavarallo? We need four rooms for eight people,” he added, holding up four fingers to reinforce the number.

“Sí, signore,” Cavarallo said, opening his door wider. “Breakfast at nine o’clock and dinner at seven.”

Donald chuckled. “ Grazie ,” he said before waving in the direction of the two hackneys.

Within minutes, a servant was seeing to trunks as his parents, cousins, and the servants spilled forth and into the villa’s courtyard.

Despite his impatience, Donald saw to acting as an interpreter until rooms had been assigned and luggage had been delivered.

“Would you like company?” Will asked when Donald said he was about to hail a hackney to take him to the Montblanc villa. If Nicoletta wasn’t there, the servants would certainly be able to provide directions to the castle.

Donald considered the offer. “I suppose Mother will not take no for an answer,” he guessed, glancing back to the courtyard door to discover she was already there.

“She won’t,” Will agreed, a smirk appearing.

“All right. If we have to go the castle?—”

“It will be an all day trip, I know,” his father finished for him. Will turned and waved for Barbara to join them.

She rushed from the wooden door, her skirts held up so her ankles were on display. Even though they had only been at the Garibaldi residence for less than an hour, Barbara had already changed into a different gown and hat.

Donald lowered his head to hide his humor as his father helped her into the hackney. “The Montblanc villa in Via Dei Crociferi,” he said to the driver.

Blinking, the driver nodded. “Sí, signore,” he replied. Once Donald was in the hackney, the equipage took off with a start, the wheels bouncing over the worn lava blocks that made up the streets of this part of Catania.

The trip was short, and when Donald exited the hackney, he asked if the driver could wait. “Lady Montblanc might not be in residence,” he said by way of explanation.

“Oh, but she is,” the driver assured him. “Ever since Lord Montblanc’s death, she has been here to receive mourners. Callers,” he added.

Donald’s heart skipped a beat. He handed the man some lira. “ Grazie ,” he said. He urged his mother and father to join him before he faced the villa’s carved wooden door and pulled the chain that would signal their presence to a servant.

They didn’t have to wait long. An immaculately dressed butler opened the door only minutes later. “ Sí ?” he said, his gaze going from Donald to the couple who stood behind him.

“The Earl and Countess Bellingham and Signore Slater to see Lady Montblanc and the new Lord Montblanc,” Donald said.

The butler’s eyes narrowed before he opened the door wider. “This way,” he said. “Marchesa Montblanc has not received callers all day, though. You may have to return on the morrow,” he warned.

“Is she in good stead?” Donald asked, concern evident in his voice. “Is he in good stead?” he added, now even more worried.

His manner guarded, the butler seemed to think on his response. “As good as could be expected. His lordship misses his padre.”

Donald winced at hearing the comment. “Of course he does,” he replied.

They were led into a parlor featuring comfortable furnishings and immaculate paintings and statuary. Donald was about to settle himself on a hardback chair but nervousness had him instead pacing in front of a massive fireplace. Meanwhile, his mother flitted about, admiring the artwork as his father dutifully followed her and grinned at seeing her enthusiasm.

As quiet seemed to engulf the room, the vibrations of the rushed footsteps of a child could be felt through the carpet followed by a feminine voice sounding a scold.

Donald froze in place and stared at the open door while Barbara and Will stood side by side in front of a settee. Collectively, they held their breaths until a dark-haired boy appeared. He, too, froze, his eyes wide in a face framed with black curly hair. “ Nonno? Nonna ?”

In unison, Donald and his father bowed while his mother dipped a deep curtsy. When they straightened, they discovered the young marchese was no longer alone.

Nicoletta, Marchesa Montblanc, stood behind him.