5
Blackwell rolled over on the small hotel bed and his back hit the wooden frame. One of the good things about Woodbridge Hall was that his bed was wide enough for hisshoulders.
The room felt still and cold. He sat up and saw the curtain was drawn, but that the sun shone beyond them. He could tell the room was empty but stood and called out, “Donna.”
She didn’t answer. He went to check the bathroom to see if she was inside and saw a note on the desk near the front door with his name printed on the outside. He ripped open the small envelope toread.
Blackwell,Last night was wonderful. I had to catch the morning train to Venice. It was lovely getting to know the man beneath the blue jacket. Yours,Donna
She’d left. Without a goodbye. Normally he was the one that ran off in the middle of the night to avoid a confrontation. A feeling that he missed her felt strange in his gut, but he splashed water on his face and dressed before going downstairs where his driver waited for him. He tipped the innkeeper on the way out and stepped into the morning air. His driver opened the rear passenger door. “Did you see Ms. Smith thismorning?”
The driver looked at him with surprise but then lowered his head and answered in a low tone to ensure privacy. “I drove her to the train station. She took the seven o’clock train to Venice. I carried one bag forher.”
No other woman he knew went across Europe with one bag. Donna was unique and it seemed she truly was gone. The clench in his stomach would ease with time. He patted his driver on the shoulder and slid inside. “Good man. Now take mehome.”
“Absolutely, Your Grace.” The driver closed thedoor.
Inside the limo, the light scent of vanilla still clung in theair.
The wordfoolran in his brain but he ignored it as they drove the short distance back to WoodbridgeHall.
He’d likely never see Donna again and the knot in his stomach travelled up to his chest. This shouldn’t feel like a mistake. He ignored the warning and walked inside his empty house, up the stairs toward hisroom.
Hopefully a shower would wash away this regret. Just outside the hall near his bedroom, his mother called out from behind him, “How was thewedding?”
He turned and kissed her cheek. Gray hair smoothed in a bob, dressed in a stylish black shift despite the hour. Her rosy cheeks meant she was healthy and well. “Good, Mother. You’re upearly.”
She made atsksound in her throat. “The Vernaks were here for breakfast, wondering if you were still with your date. But that’s not important—I havenews.”
The Vernaks would inherit his title and all his entailed wealth if he did not marry by the age of thirty. Of course, they’d want to know if he was interested in marrying Donna. His heart pounded at the idea, but he stayed focused on his mother. “About?”
She took a business envelope from her side pocket. “The name of your true match from the Royal ITDepartment.”
Blackwell opened his bedroom door and waved her to follow him inside. “Mother, I know I have to marry but I don’t want to think about ittoday.”
“You promised.” She held out the small, thickenvelope.
He had. Blackwell went to his closet and deposited the blue velvet jacket for dry cleaning and unbuttoned his shirt. “I’m tired from lastnight.”
“The Vernaks came for breakfast. I swear they were counting the silverware instead of enjoying thequiche.”
His t-shirt was still on when he returned to his bedroom and asked, “You’re not going to stop until I hear the name and resume, areyou?”
She shrugged, not caring that he’d called her out. “That was theplan.”
He went to the sitting area of his bedroom which overlooked the green lawn leading to his stables and a koi pond with a marble fountain. He parked himself in the chair and let his head fall against the cushioned back. “Okay, if I can rest my eyes, I’ll listen while youread.”
She took the next seat and he heard the delicate tear of the envelope. Then her movements as she riffled through the papers. Slowly she said, “Her name is Donna Smith. FromMiami.”
Had he dreamed those words? He sat straight and stared at his mother. She adjusted her glasses and continued to read the page to herself. He folded his hands in front of him. “Repeatthat.”
She scanned the sheet. “Donna Smith. She’s alibrarian.”
The computer had figured out his perfect match—but he’d known, hadn’t he? He never should have let her go. His heart stilled like he had his answer that stared him in the face the entire time. He reached for the papers. “Can I read herresume?”
Mother took her glasses off and handed him the papers. “I’m glad you’re taking this more seriously,Blackwell.”
Donna’s picture assured him that she was the same woman. Sweet smile, chestnut hair and black layers. She lived in Miami and her parents were gone. She hadn’t said it was a car accident on the highway, but he’d not asked. His heart sped up as his face felt hot. “Mother, Donna Smith was my date lastnight.”
