Red Wine For Miss Parker - Another very romantic Comedy (Delicious Regency by Ruby Royce, Book 2) (3 page)

 
Nothing could describe the happiness he felt upon seeing her again. He held her tight and kissed her head.

"Clara, do come away from His Royal Highness, your behaviour is most improper," the spectacular blonde standing by the tea table commanded. "Mariella, run to get Prince Francis some of my husband's clothes, they should fit him perfectly, from what I can deduce. Highness, if I may take the liberty to introduce myself, I'm Eugenia St. Yves, the Duke's wife."

Mamma Mia, Dominic, you lucky, lucky bastard. How did an arrogant prig like you manage to marry such a woman? Well, you have always been handsome as hell and the money will have helped.
 

"
Chère cousine
, it is a delight, you may call me Francesco, if you please."

The blonde smiled and looked even better than before. "We shall see if I should please."

Impossible! She is witty, too. How DID he do it?

"Surrey's not in, he rode to Milan to talk to his grand-father, who is your uncle, I believe? What a surprise to find you here. We had not heard of your return to these shores. My husband thought you in Baden-Baden. Do you have an appointment with my husband? I do not think so, regarding your... well, attire."

Francesco smiled back gracefully. "Dear cousin Eugenia, I am so sorry to intrude upon you in such a biblical ensemble so unexpectedly and if Dominic were here, I'd apologise to him for
not
being in Baden-Baden. I had just finished my little swim across the lake and was about to return, when a young Lady fell from a tree, right in front of me. What was I supposed to do?"

"Oh, right!" the Duchess grimaced and turned towards the girl he had carried up to the castle. "Flora, you fell from a tree? Are you badly hurt? Will you need a physician?"

The tiny person sitting on the bench stared at them with an expression that would have scared the hounds of hell into submission. The girl's face was bright red and she violently bit her lower lip.
 

"Yes!" she spat and continued to glare. "It happens just so that I am! But do go ahead, I beg of you. Never mind me!"

Oh, she's a fiend! Why did I save her?

"Dear Flora, I'm so sorry!" Clara exclaimed and sat down next to the furious thing. "Do you wish to go inside? I could help you walk, or perhaps Lord Lackerby or the Earl could— "

"Not THEM!" The girl called Flora fumed. "I feel stupid enough already, I don't need them to see me in this condition!"

Clara quickly nodded. "Yes, I understand. Calm yourself, Flora dear."

"I AM CALM!" The small face turned ever redder. She looked like a tomato with curls. "I am very calm! And I don't need anybody to help me, I'm no charitable cause, I can manage on my own! I have always managed on my own, I don't need anybody's help!"

Somebody take her away, she's getting on my nerves with her squealing.

"Pardon me, Highness, I have not introduced my friend, this is Miss Flora Parker."

The tomato girl snorted and cleaned her hose in a kerchief.

Charming.
 

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Parker," the Prince murmured without interested.
 
She was a nuisance and he was too occupied with the the joy of seeing his little Clara after such a long time and by the existence of a Duchess of Surrey whose looks compelled any good Italian to compose an aria. And Francesco, in truth being a multi-national mongrel like all European royalty, thought of himself as an Italian very much.

The housekeeper brought the clothes. Francesco took them from her very gently.
 
He did not want to scare the old girl, to whom it must have been quite a shock to see a Prince of Lombardy wearing nothing but a pink scarf. He gracefully waved at the Ladies and strolled away to dress himself behind a bush.
 

 
Francesco and Dominic had always been of the same stature and Surrey's clothes fit him perfectly, even if they were just a simple hose and shirt. A simple hose and shirt, but
of cut
. How could it not be
of cut
with Dominic? Even his wife was
of cut
.
 

He annoys me already without even being here! I think I want to swim back home right away.

The Prince finished robing and found himself stuck with tomato girl's pink scarf. He could not simply return the piece of cloth to the livid Miss Parker he concluded, so he swung it nonchalantly around his neck and stepped out from behind the bush. "You will permit me to borrow this,
 
Miss Parker," he called. "I shall have it cleaned and returned."

But Miss Parker was gone. Only the Duchess and Clara had remained.
 

"I'm sure Flora won't mind, Frankie" Clara said. "Will you have tea with us now? Please? Of course, if you will permit it, Eugenia, this is your house."

The Duchess smirked. "I don't mind, now that cousin Francesco is properly dressed. Do tell, dear cousin. Do you come swimming here often?"

Palazzo Sforza, Drawing-Room, that same day, after dinner

" 'Course we saw him!" Lackerby declared in his cropped Mayfair slur. "Marvellous fellow! Naturally Darl here knew him from back in the days, but I'd never seen the man! Made some prime jibes, laughed myself giddy."

"I can't stand him." Dominic St. Yves helped himself to another brandy. "All this libertarian talk. The
enlightened
Prince who may say whatever he pleases and do whatever he likes, who has no sense of responsibility whatsoever. Well, they're the same all over. One simply has to look at our royal Dukes at home."
 

Flora agreed.
 

Libertarian. Insupportable. Well, the Prince can afford it. It is widely known monarchs are lax in their morals and their manners.

The Duke went on.
 

"He was always keeping company with the farmers and foresters, with the footmen and the cooks, he was cheeky with the girls because none of them could ever dream of marrying him... I don't want to know how many of the county girls fell victim to his royal charm, we could probably bring the entire Surrey harvest in, only with the help of little Karlsburgs."

"Hmm," Darlington said and looked musingly into his glass.

Flora observed him closely and wondered what well-formed phrase was currently being produced behind the Earl's golden skull. She gently sipped her red-wine —
 
a beverage she had come to appreciate during their journey —
 
and waited for the blow Darlington would deliver.
 

And it came.

"Surrey, confess. You don't like him because he's better looking than you."
 

"Nobody's better looking than—"
 

The Duke caught himself but it was too late.
 

For an instant everybody was silent. Then Lackerby and Eugenia roared with laughter, while Darlington shrugged, raised an eyebrow, drank his brandy and smiled to himself.
 

Surrey slammed his glass onto a sideboard and stormed out of the room.

Flora too had to wipe tears of mirth from her eyes. It was a rare thing to see Surrey misstep.

 
Only Clara, who must have been miles away —
 
and I think I know where she was, exactly two miles across the lake, with her beloved Adonis of a cousin
—
 
turned her head to Flora.
 

"What happened?" the girl whispered.

Still giggling, Flora replied. "Darlington said the Prince was better looking than your brother."

"Oh, he did?"

"Yes, he did."

"Oh… How very…" Clara looked at her hands.
 

She certainly agrees.

"You are horrible to him, Darlington," Gigi admonished the Earl after she had recovered.

"I am simply honest, Your Grace."

"That you are. I cannot deny it. Well, it won't do him any harm. But I do
not
think anybody is better looking than my husband."

"We are aware of it, Gigi. Only
too
aware!" Flora moaned.
 

"Pity you, Miss Parker," Lackerby said, cheering. "Truly! Mean it! Out and about with two lovebirds and an
Innocente
. Appalling!"

"Miss Parker is an innocent too!" Clara cried. "She's not married and she's only three years older than me. In fact, Eugenia has not even
two
years on me! Why does everybody have to treat me like a child?"

Darlington looked up from his glass. "Than I. Older
than I
. And Miss Parker's not an innocent young girl like yourself, and she's quite a different character, Clara dear." He smiled benevolently at the girl. "She's been haunting the circuit for far too long, we may certainly consider her out of the worst."
 

"Was that an insult, my lord?" Flora quipped. She had somehow felt minimised by that remark and did not intend to hide it.
 

The Earl stood up and bowed to Flora.

"To the contrary, Miss Parker, but I deeply apologise for putting it wrongly. It was meant as a compliment! I was certainly not meaning to insult you and I do hope you will find it in you to forgive me. My hope was to educate Miss Clara."
 

He was serious.
Naturally!
James Crawford, the Darl of Smoothington, would
never
insult a Lady.

Flora already regretted the harshness of her words. "I accept your apology, Sir."
 

"Look, Clara, you can learn a lot from Miss Parker. She's a very accomplished young woman who knows how to make a point without tearing down the walls, you should try to emulate her."

Clara blushed and looked down.

"Bashful now, Freckles? Well, that's more like it."

"Shush, shush, Darlington, let her be," Gigi sighed. "And anyway, it's getting late. I will have to soothe the storms raging in Surrey and I cannot permit my two wards to stay down here alone with you, gentlemen. I suggest we retire and leave Lord Lackerby and Lord Darlington to their own devices. Clara, we will have to help Flora with the staircase."

Clara was scowling badly but got up from the divan.
 

She's a weird girl. So rash. Well, she must be quite shaken from the meeting with the Prince. I still am for a certainty, and he has not raised me from the cradle.
 

From the ground, yes. With his strong arms... And I behaved so terribly towards him, ranting as if I had rabies! Why can't I ever be silent? He must think me an awful nuisance and I'm sure my face was flushed bright red. I must have looked like tomato with hair. I always do when I'm angry… Oh hush. What does it matter? I will most likely never see the man again.

From Miss Flora Parker's Diary

June 28
th
, 1823

I saw the prince tonight… and broke his nose.

Teatro della Scala, Milan, June 28
th
,1823

It was to be Gioachino Rossini's „La Donna del Lago", the melodramatic opera based on Sir Walter Scott's "The Lady of the Lake."
 
It was the story of a woman whose love had almost caused a war.
 

Actually, it's the story of a crazy girl who, crossing a lake in a boat to get to her one true love, falls into the arms of the king, who falls in love with her. She, on the other hand, is engaged to a third man whom she does not love, so what is there to do but sing about it for two hours and a half?

Francesco had been at the premiere in Naples four years earlier and was not keen on seeing the number again. But since he was in Milan and all of his friends were going, he had conceded to their biddings and accompanied them. After all, it was the Scala, good singing was to be expected and if not, he could amuse himself by watching the guests.

The Prince was lounging comfortably against a balustrade, chatting nonsense with his friend Conte Giancarlo Giabiconi. Giabiconi was recounting a hunting adventure to some detail and Francesco kept interspersing appreciative noises after every second sentence or so, when he saw the Surrey party enter the foyer.
 

The Duchess came in first.
 

She was wearing an emerald green grown of Italian making with a revealing neckline and matching jewellery. Her hair was braided and pinned up, creating the vision of a crown. She was followed by Clara in a white dress and a much simpler coiffure, as befitted her status.
 

My little Chiara. She's grown up! She's certainly going to get married soon. But to whom? Nobody is worthy of her!?
 

Everyone in the hall was appraising the unknown beauties and the envy of enumerable southern ladies hovered in the air like a poisonous cloud.
 

Right they are
. He himself had always taken a strong preference to blondes.
 

Then something strange occurred.
 

He could not explain it then, nor would he ever be able to explain it in the future.

A very small and dark haired girl in a light blue dress walked briskly through the foyer and joined the Surrey ladies.

Francesco felt an onslaught of dizziness. His stomach churned violently.

 
He looked away and shook his head.
 

The dizziness was gone.
 

He turned back, saw the blondes, saw the brunette and— there it was again!
 

"
Madonna Santa
!" the Count cried. "Francesco! Are you not listening? Are you not well?"
 

"No, no, I am fine. Forgive me, Giancarlo, I need to welcome some acquaintances of mine."
 

Clara spotted the Prince first and smiled broadly. "There's Frankie!" she announced happily to the others.
 

The Duchess looked up and gave a nod of recognition.