The Destiny of Tangled Vines: a Mornington Park Novel, #2 by K. E. Chaloner

Author:K. E. Chaloner
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-648-08141-8
Publisher: K. E. Chaloner

Chapter Fourteen

Tuesday 11 June 1816

Stephanie thought of last night and how Gabriel had taken her to the roof of Duke’s home, in the hope of showing her the stars. Unfortunately, the night sky was as black as coal, as if all life had left the earth. So instead he passionately kissed her like eternity would never be enough.

It was that kiss that was now tormenting her, as she sat silently alone on the wooden seat in the garden, amongst the flowers struggling to survive. She had spent yesterday with the duchess sorting through dresses for their coming events that were fit for a lady engaged to a duke’s brother, that any woman would have given her right arm to obtain.

She felt a fraud. This was not her future. Raising her face to the sky she tried to soak up a small ray of sunshine fighting its way through the dark clouds. She would be pleased when this farce ended, for she found her emotions playing havoc with her senses.

“Buongiorno, Signora Stephanie. Come Stai?” came a small voice.

Stephanie lowered her head and looked around to see a small face emerging between two empty rose bush stalks.

“Molto bene, grazie, Signor Jacques - e Lei?’

“Abbastanza, bene, grazie,” Jacques cried, quickly scampering to her side and sitting with a thump beside her. “Stephanie sei Italiano?”

Stephanie felt him press his small body into her.

“Sono, how did you know?”

“You resemble me,” he announced proudly, intertwining his fingers through her hand. “My mother was Italian and I was born in Italy.”

Stephanie studied him playing with her fingers, knowing his smile gazing at her had something in his eyes that told her, he knew more about life than many adults.

“I realise we both have dark hair, so does your father the duke and I thought your mother was French,” she spoke, without thinking and a little confused, until she remembered the duke was not his father. “Oh, I am so sorry, I just forgot for a moment, for you did tell me last night the duke was a special father,” she remarked, hugging him closer.

Jacques eyes washed over her.

“That is alright, for it is easy to forget when you see Duke and me together, so I can understand why you and everyone we meet think that, but my Mother the duchess, is in fact my aunt,” he confessed, leaning into her as if they were conspirators. “You and I have skin that has spent time outside for generations in the Italian hills and will never burn under the sun. It will only grow darker and richer like wine.”

Stephanie smiled at him with a twinkle in her eye.

“You are right, we are like the grapes and olives that grow in our veins instead of blood. It is funny how Italians always know Italians, for my mother was also Italian and my father English. I am half and half,” she confessed, kissing his hair.

“I am half and half, my father French,” Jacques squealed. “We are the same.”

Stephanie studied his face. She had not been able to fathom why he had taken a liking to her.

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