I was relieved when Marco excused himself and led us away. “Maybe we will come back to her later,” he murmured.
“Not if you are smart,” Sofia threw out, which almost made me laugh. Then she added, “But you are all wise, of course.”
“No need to flatter me.” Marco leveled a playful look at Sofia. “Next?”
Sofia’s eyes scanned the crowd. “Elena? Yes, there she is.”
Waiters wove their way through the crowd with trays of appetizers that smelled yummy. I was starving and by that time I didn’t care if I gained five pounds tonight. I was going to eat. My mouth was full of tenderloin and french bread when we reached Elena. I could only wave when Marco introduced her. Another young woman who bordered on anorexia, she held up a hand when a waiter did another pass with the tenderloin. “Nothing for me, please.” And she leaned closer to Sofia. “Bread is so fattening.”
Was she looking at me? No way would I be kicked to the curb by a girl who needed to eat more if she knew what was good for her. Snaring another small bite of beef and bread, I kept nibbling.
“Do you like my gown, Your Majesty?” Elena smoothed one hand over a hip. That bone had an edge that rivaled the rocks surrounding the fountain. “Mama took me to Milan the day after we received your invitation.”
“Oh, she shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble.” Sofia’s disapproval was obvious. At a startled look from Marco, Sofia must have realized what she’d said. “I mean, that was a lot of trouble.”
“Mama says a girl has to look her best.” Her blonde hair shimmered when she tilted her head to give Marco a coy smile. “We are hoping I will be married soon.”
“Who is the lucky man?” Marco asked without batting an eye.
I choked on the bread. While Sofia patted me on the back, I grabbed a glass of water from a waiter.
“Well, well…” Elena faltered before recovering herself. “My father will decide.”
Sofia and I exchanged a look. A darkness flickered over Marco’s features.
Sofia jumped in. “Just be sure that your father’s choice is also your choice.”
“Yes, well.” Tears welling in her eyes, Elena gave some excuse and drifted away.
“Next time show more mercy, Marco,” Sofia whispered.
Animated conversation flowed around us while the orchestra played. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Tiny bites of tiramisu were making the rounds and of course I grabbed one.
“Come, come.” Marco urged me, as if I were Tesoro or Diablo, here to perform at his will. Had “Will attend social functions” been a part of our contract? I probably should have read that more carefully. “People will want to meet my profesora. And, of course, you must help me choose my queen.”
Now, I doubted very much that anyone wanted to meet me. And helping Marco vette his next wife was making me uncomfortable. True, many beautiful women were here tonight. But were they kind? Could they mother Gregorio and give him good advice? I hated this process, and yet I wanted Gregorio to be happy.
But if my employer, who was paying me an outlandish amount of money, wanted me to screen prospective wives, well then, I’d do my best. Handing a waiter my empty glass, I prepared myself to meet the next young woman.
Izabella appeared with a swirl of color and motion. Bracelets sparkled on her arms and huge green emeralds quivered from her ears. The earrings matched her eyes, her gown and an enormous emerald suspended from her neck. I couldn’t imagine wearing anything that heavy and I rubbed the back of my neck in commiseration. She was what my mother would have called “well put together.”
“Lovely party, Your Majesty.” Not hesitating for a moment, she leaned forward for the customary double cheek greeting. Sofia caught Marco’s eyes over Izabella’s well-coiffed head and smiled, as if she were tolerating a child. “The food is ever so delicious.”
“So nice to see you, Izabella. Thank you for coming.”
“But of course.” She turned to me expectantly. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Marco leapt into action, his hand gentle on the small of my back. “May I introduce. Christina Newhart…from America.”
“An American? So, you must be the teacher they are talking about.”
My smile wobbled. Who was talking about me?
Marco didn’t bat an eye. “Signora Newhart is, how you say, bringing Gregorio up to speed. For Harvard.”
Her glossed lips formed an oval. How I wished Marco would stop with the Harvard intro. Thank goodness Gregorio wasn’t around. He winced every time he heard those words. My goal, as I now saw it, was preparing the poor boy to be emotionally ready to enter the world of Harvard if his test scores worked in his favor.
The orchestra had struck up “When I Fall in Love.” My heart twisted. The song sang about forever. Did that really happen for anyone?
