Marco held her hand as they approached the palazzo, entertaining her with animated stories, and when they neared the entrance, he gestured at the elegant fa?ade of Palazzo Braschi, which had been festooned with tricolor sashes and a massive flag with the Fascist littorio emblem. “The decorations are beautiful, aren’t they? I helped put them up.”
“Beautiful.”
“I’m so glad you came tonight. I’ve missed you.” Marco flashed his dazzling smile, and Elisabetta found herself wondering if her mother had been as charmed by his father. It made her uncomfortable, and she didn’t want to think she was anything like her mother, and she felt suddenly wrong being with him. She had thought she could go through with it, but now she wasn’t so sure. Cigarette smoke and heavy perfume filled her nostrils as the partygoers pressed together, bottlenecking at the palazzo entrance. She felt vaguely nauseated.
“This will be so much fun, don’t you think? My boss is getting a big promotion.” Marco squeezed her hand, looking over, then tilted his head. “Elisabetta, are you okay?”
“I’m sorry.” Elisabetta let go of Marco’s hand, turned around, and made her way back through the packed crowd.
“Elisabetta!” Marco hurried after her, but she didn’t stop. He reached her in front of the fountain and took her by the arm. “What’s the matter? Where are you going?”
“I have to leave. I can’t be with you. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Why? What’s going on, cara?”
Elisabetta felt the secret bursting within her. “There’s something you don’t know. Nonna told me something awful, about my mother—”
“I know already.” Marco took her hands gently, and his expression softened. “I know about my father and the affair.”
“What? How?” Elisabetta felt her face turn hot. She felt exposed and awkward. “It’s so embarrassing.”
“Sit down, please.” Marco pressed her onto the ledge of the fountain, holding one of her hands.
“I’m so ashamed that she did such a thing!”
“As am I. I never would have thought it of my father. I’m barely speaking to the man. Nevertheless, what happened between them has nothing to do with us.”
“What are you talking about? They’re our parents.”
“Exactly. Our parents are not us.”
“Nonna doesn’t think we can be together.”
“You’re your own woman, Elisabetta.” Marco met her eye, his dark gaze unusually steady. “You and I have known each other since we were little. I’ve loved you that long, I swear it to you now. We are Marco and Elisabetta. That’s who we are, and nothing between us has changed.”
“I don’t know.” Elisabetta wished she could go along, but her feelings were bollixed up. “How can we be together now? What will your parents say? Your mother? Nonna says it’s not practical—”
“Don’t worry so much. Here we are, you and me. We’re in the present, not the past. You look stunning in that dress, and we’re going to a beautiful party.” A slow grin spread across Marco’s face, and his eyes glinted with mischief. “And we’re going to dance—”
“We can’t—”
“—just like this!” Marco encircled her waist with his arm and swept her into the air, spinning her around so that her dress billowed gaily, and Elisabetta felt herself dizzy and laughing, even as he spun her closer to Palazzo Braschi. She saw the fancy people around them as a blur and she clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and when they reached the entrance, Marco set her down under the archway, where he kissed her softly, chasing her objections away.
* * *
—
Marco took Elisabetta onto the glistening parquet floor, guiding her through dance after dance, and she followed his lead, whirling past walls lined with painted friezes, oil portraits, and polished bronze sconces that shed a romantic light. The ballroom was grand, and couples danced to a wonderful orchestra playing in front of a stage under a large tricolor sash, strung between two marble columns. Painted murals covered the vaulted ceiling, and the only time they stopped dancing was to accept flutes of bubbly spumante from passing waiters.
Elisabetta found herself having fun, and by the third glass of spumante, she began to feel less worried, though she noticed that many of Marco’s former friends seemed cool to him. She didn’t understand why, nor did she know if Marco had noticed. He focused only on her, making sure she was having a good time.