Will You Marry Me?. Rebecca Winters

Leon’s father in the nursery doorway. Rufo had already hurried over to him. She recognized him from the photographs, but since the time those pictures were taken, his dark hair had become streaked with silver.

      His presence meant Belle’s mother was here! Her mouth went dry.

      * * *

      Leon saw the shock on his father’s face. Normally, he headed straight for Concetta, but not this time. The count was staring at Belle. Her beauty stopped men in their tracks, but he’d also seen the resemblance to Luciana and was obviously speechless for a moment.

      His father wasn’t the only one. Leon had felt out of control since their first meeting. Just now her easy interaction with Concetta, and his daughter’s acceptance of Belle, had caught him unaware. It had to be because Belle reminded her of Luciana. To his chagrin he’d experienced a ridiculous moment of jealousy.

      “Papà? May I introduce Belle Peterson. Belle? Meet my father, Sullisto.”

      The older man walked over to Belle with suspiciously bright eyes. “It’s like seeing your beautiful mother when she was in her twenties.” He kissed her on both cheeks and grasped her hands. “My wife’s not going to believe it. I’m not sure I do.”

      “I don’t believe it, either,” Belle answered in an unsteady voice. “It’s like a dream. I’m so happy to meet you.”

      He studied her features for a long moment. “How do you want to do this, my dear?”

      Leon appreciated his father’s sensitivity and stepped in. “Where’s Luciana?”

      “I left her in the living room, playing the piano.”

      “Why don’t you entertain Concetta up here while I take Belle downstairs to meet her?” He kissed the baby and handed her over. “I’ll come back for the two of you in a few minutes and we’ll go down together.”

      His father hugged the baby to him before looking at Belle. “Take all the time you need.”

      “Are you sure this is the right thing to do, signore?” Her question went straight to Leon’s gut.

      “Call me Sullisto. You’re going to make a new person of my wife,” his father reassured her.

      A hand went to her throat. “Thank you for being so kind and accepting.”

      Leon could only wonder at the emotions gripping her. “Let’s go.”

      She followed him out of the room and down the stairs. The sound of the piano grew louder. When they reached the front foyer, he turned to her. “Ready?”

      Belle nodded. “I’ve been waiting for this all my life, but I’d like you to go first.”

      Taking a deep breath, he opened the French doors. “Good evening, Luciana.”

      The playing stopped and she got up from the baby grand piano looking lovely as usual in a draped midriff jersey dress in a blue print. Though her daughter wasn’t wearing Versace, Belle had the same sense of style and good taste as her mother.

      She hurried across the Oriental rug toward him. “Thank you for inviting us, Leon. Where’s your precious baby?”

      He noticed the two women had the same little tremor in their voices when they were nervous. They were both the same height, but Luciana wore her hair short these days in a stylish cut. After giving her a kiss on both cheeks, he said, “Upstairs with Papà. But before he brings her down, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

      “A special woman?”

      He knew what she was thinking. His father had Leon’s love life on his mind and no doubt had been discussing the list of eligible titled women with Luciana. “This one is very special. You’ll have to speak English. Come in,” he called over his shoulder.

      After Belle stepped into the living room, he watched Luciana’s expression turn to incredulity, then shock. She went so pale he put an arm around her shoulders and helped her to the nearest love seat. “Your daughter has come all the way from New York looking for you.”

      A stillness enveloped both women before Luciana cried, “Arabella?”

      Tears splashed down Belle’s cheeks. She, too, had lost color. Fear that she might faint prompted Leon to help her sit next to her mother.

      “That’s my real name?” she asked in wonder. “Arabella?”

      “Yes. Arabella Donatello Sloan. Your father was English. Arabella was his grandmother’s name. She told him it meant beautiful lion. You are so beautiful. I don’t know how you ever found me, but oh, my darling baby girl, I’ve missed and ached for you every moment since I gave you up. You’ve been in my every prayer. Let me hold you.”

      It was like a light had gone on inside, bringing Luciana to life, illuminating her countenance. Like her mother, Belle glowed with a new radiance. They weren’t aware of anyone else.

      The sight of the two women clinging desperately while they communicated and wept and made dozens of comparisons brought a giant-size boulder to Leon’s throat.

      The explanation of Belle’s name reminded Leon of his conversation with her the day before, about his own name meaning lion. Belle remembered, too, because she darted him a quick glance. It was an odd coincidence.

      “I want you to know about your father. I have pictures of him back at the palazzo.”

      Belle flashed Leon a smile. He knew what seeing a picture of him would do for her.

      “Arabella was the grandmother who raised him before she died. We talked about names before you were born. That’s the one we liked the best. You would have loved him, but he was killed before we could be married. I was so terrified he’d been murdered that, when I had you, I made the decision to give you up because the danger you might be killed, too, was too great.”

      Leon moved closer to them. “We now know that no one was murdered, and Robert’s death had to have been an accident.”

      “Yes, but I didn’t know it until a few months ago. When I think about the years we’ve lost...” Her mother broke down sobbing.

      Belle held her for a long time. “What happened to my father?”

      “Robert and I had been in downtown Newburgh and we’d just left each other. He’d started across the intersection when this car crossed over the lines and came at him at full speed. The driver just kept going, leaving Robert lying there lifeless.”

      Belle’s groan filled the room.

      “It was so horrifying I went into labor and was taken to the hospital. You came a month early, Arabella. You were still in the intensive care unit when I had a graveside service for Robert. The police never found the man who killed him.”

      “How terrible for you.” Belle reached out to hug her harder.

      “It was terrible, since I couldn’t tell my father. He didn’t know about Robert. I knew if I took you back to Italy, he wouldn’t let me keep you at the palazzo. Worse, I was afraid you wouldn’t be safe with me anywhere.

      “When I made arrangements for you at the orphanage, you still needed a lot of care. But my father sent for me to come home. He wasn’t feeling well, because of his heart, and hinted that he wanted me to meet Count Malatesta, who’d recently lost his wife to cancer. My father wanted him for a son-in-law.

      “We married on my twentieth birthday. The fact that he still wanted me after I confessed everything to him in private proved to me he was a good man. But while I was still in New York, I couldn’t imagine ever marrying again. It was agony, because I had to rely on the sisters to watch over you. I told them I’d named you Belle. That way no one could ever trace you to Robert or me. I also told them they had to promise that whoever adopted you would take you to church.”

      “Nadine always took me.”

      “Thank heaven for