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would do? And hadn’t Dami been a complete sweetheart about it, letting her down so easy she was still floating several inches above the inlaid floor?
    The older gentleman on Lucy’s other side spoke to her. “What a positively charming frock.”
    She put Noah firmly from her mind and turned to the old guy with a friendly smile and a soft, “Thank you.”
    He had thick white hair, wore a smoking jacket and sported a Colonel Sanders goatee. “Count Dietrich VonDelft,” he said. “Her Highness Adrienne is my second cousin once removed.”
    She gave the old fellow her name, explained her relationship to the Bravo-Calabretti family and told him how much she was enjoying her holiday weekend in Montedoro. He said she was very lovely, a breath of fresh air—at which point she started suspecting he might be putting a move on her.
    On her other side, Dami chuckled. That gave her an excuse to turn to him. The gleam in his eyes told her he knew exactly what the count had been up to. She chatted with Dami about nothing in particular for a few minutes. And then the first course was served.
    Through the meal, she tried not to look at her brother and not to get too involved in any conversations with “Richie,” as the count insisted she call him. He actually was kind of sweet, but he leaned too close and he looked at her as though he wouldn’t mind helping her out of her so-charming “frock.” It was kind of flattering, if also a bit creepy. She did want to learn about lovemaking, but not from a guy old enough to be her grandfather.
    After the meal, they all returned to the Blue Room, where after-dinner drinks were served and Prince Evan gave a nice speech about how wonderful it was to have his family around him on Thanksgiving night. There was music, a pianist and a singer who performed Broadway standards and holiday tunes, but not very loud, so everyone could visit. Lucy met more Bravo-Calabrettis. She managed to steer clear of her big brother, which was great. But then there was Count Richie. He seemed to constantly pop up out of nowhere, grinning flirtatiously through his goatee, every time she turned around. She treated him politely every time and then slipped away at the first opportunity.
    Around eleven-thirty the party began to break up. Princess Adrienne reminded them that the annual Thanksgiving Candlelight Mass would be held at midnight in the St. Catherine of Sienna Chapel in the palace courtyard.
    Dami took her hand and wrapped it around his arm and they followed along with the others, outside and down the wide stone stairs to the chapel. It was a beautiful service, though Lucy hardly understood a word of it. She enjoyed the flowing beauty of the priests’ robes, the spicy smell of the incense, the glow of all the candles and the beautiful voices of the men and women in the choir.
    When it was over, Dami led her back to the Blue Room, where more refreshments were served. They lingered for a while, visiting with his two youngest sisters, Genevra and Rory.
    Finally, at about one-thirty, he walked her upstairs.
    * * *
    Damien stood with Lucy at the door to her room.
    The hallway, narrower than the one outside his apartment, was lit by wall sconces turned down to a soft glow.
    “I don’t want you to go,” Lucy said in that enchanting way she had of simply saying whatever popped into her mind.
    He felt the same, reluctant to leave her, and that struck him as odd. He would see her in the morning after all. She still had her hand wrapped snugly around his arm. She let go—but then she caught his fingers. Her touch was cool and somehow wonderful. “Come in. Please. Just for a moment.”
    He knew what waited on the other side of the door. A single room with a bed, a chair or two, an armoire and maybe a small desk. It seemed inappropriate for him to go in there with her, and he found his reluctance absurd. Just because there was a bed didn’t mean they had to use it.
    He said, though he did know that he shouldn’t,