Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
I laugh.
“I should rest too, but I’d much rather go for a walk to see the grounds.”
She’s already heading toward the closet where her favorite robe beckons. “Go. Enjoy. If you see Royce, say hello for me.” My grandmother already confirmed he would be here; we talked about it while we were packing. “I see no reason not to announce the betrothal at the masquerade party,” she’d said. “Oh sure, Victor will cry that I’ve stolen his spotlight, but only for a moment. Then he’ll realize what an honor it is to have played host to young love. His name will be mentioned in every article written about the engagement. In the end, he’ll thank me for it.”
I slip out of our room and make my way out into the second-story hallway. I didn’t have a real chance to take the villa in when we first arrived, but I’ll save a tour for later. After being cooped up in an airplane, car, and, oh yes, a carriage, I just want to be outside. While not totally practical, my strappy Italian leather sandals are well made and should be fine for a quick trip around the trail Mr. Moretti mentioned.
I pass butlers and attendants fluttering through the house carrying trays of tea and bouquets of flowers and folded linens in their arms. One man lugs a huge Louis Vuitton trunk down the hall, a bead of sweat collecting on his brow. I feel so bad I offer him a hand.
He smiles and shakes his head. “No, signora.”
I continue outside, through the back doors that open out onto a sprawling porch. To one side, there’s a fire pit and a collection of chairs. In the center stretches a long dining table with seating enough for twenty or more. There’s a charcuterie board set out on it, drawing a crowd of Victor’s guests. They sit and relax, eat and drink. I recognize most of the faces. I could even conjure up their names if pressed.
Royce is among them. He wears an easygoing smile while he listens to a redhaired man tell the group a story.
I wish I had the confidence to waltz over and join them, though I don’t see how it would be possible without somehow rudely interrupting. My cheeks flame just considering the thought of drawing everyone’s attention as I clumsily draw a chair back from the table. No thank you.
I turn away, surveying the backyard, trying to find an entry to the trail. I spot it just as I see Royce rise from the table out of the corner of my eye.
I’ve been noticed it seems.
I watch him make his way over to me, concentrating particularly hard on myself. What do my arms look like, what does my hair look like, is my smile as tight as it feels? Do I seem relaxed and happy to see him?
“There you are. I’ve been wondering when you would arrive.”
He gently touches my arm so he can lean in to kiss my cheek, and I go absolutely rigid.
“Royce, hello.”
He smiles broadly.
“Did you just get here?”
“Barely a half hour ago. I came outside to take a walk.”
I point toward the trail, and he nods. “Could I join you?”
It strikes me as an odd request, which I know is silly considering what we are to each other, but I’ve never been alone with Royce before. My grandmother is always at home when he comes by for a visit, and she takes her job as dutiful chaperone very seriously.
Even so, there’s no reason we can’t go on a walk together. In fact, it would be nice.
“All right. Yes.”
He gestures for me to lead then falls in step beside me.
We meet the trail where it dead-ends at the pier and then continue on, hugging the shoreline as we walk. The beauty of the landscape is hard to ignore. Lush mountains surround us on all sides. The deep blue lake looks so serene. The only interruption is an occasional speedboat slicing across the surface.
“Stunning, isn’t it?” he asks.
I nod, and I realize I’ve gone too long without saying something. I didn’t intend on having company during my walk, and it seems like a shame to have to waste this view on a conversation. A good companionable silence would be nice. Or better yet, solitude.
I shake away the depressing thought and turn to him with a smile.
“How was your flight over?” he asks.
“Fine, thank you. And yours?”
“Uneventful.”
The yawning pause that follows makes my stomach squeeze tight with nerves.
“And have you already settled in?”
“Yes. I’m staying in a guest house on the property, down closer to the main road.” He points further up the path.
“Oh. I didn’t realize there was a guest house.”
“I think there are a dozen of us staying there for the week.”
All right.
My brain goes absolutely mute. I can’t come up with anything. His flight! Then I recall that we just discussed that. I nearly laugh at the absurdity of having absolutely nothing to say, but I don’t think a wild unsolicited laugh would help me get out of this awkward situation.