The Villa(33)
“Aren’t the rest of you?” Noel asks when no one replies to his announcement, and when he drops his chin to his chest, scanning the room, Mari feels his eyes land on her.
She’s curled on the sofa opposite him, her notebook by her side just in case Victoria regains her voice.
“No,” she says, flatly. At her feet, Pierce laughs, resting his cheek against her knee. His guitar sits idle next to him, a notebook open but no words written.
“Mari is never bored,” he tells Noel. “Whole bloody party going on in that head of hers.”
It’s a compliment, or meant to be one; Mari knows that, but it still irritates her when he pulls this shit, talking about her like she’s not there. And he’s doing it much more than usual around Noel. He’s eager to impress, she thinks to herself.
“We could go on a little adventure?” Lara suggests. As usual, she’s perched near Noel, not quite sitting next to him because if she gets too close, he might move away, and then her shame would be on display for all to see.
“What about Rome?” Lara continues.
That’s another tic she’s picked up, this constant questioning. Everything ends with a slight rise in her voice.
“Rome would also be boring,” Noel says, dismissing her with a wave. “And besides, I’m paying for this bloody place, I’m not going to put you all up in Rome, too.”
He draws the O out, the word drawled—Rooohhhhhhme—just in case Lara didn’t know he was mocking her, Mari supposes.
“You could try to write some music,” Mari says. “Which I believe was the point of this entire trip.”
It’s frustrating, watching Noel and Pierce nearly get stuck in on something only to grow distracted when Noel wants to go for a drive or take the rowboat out or swim in the pool or do any of a dozen things that won’t bring him or Pierce—or Mari, for that matter—any closer to their goals.
And there’s that studio space waiting back in London, that golden chance for Pierce that seems to be slipping further and further away.
Lately, Mari has begun to wonder whether, if Noel can propel Pierce to greater heights, it means that the inverse is true, too. Should this all fall apart, is Pierce going to be hit by the shrapnel of Noel’s failure?
But Noel just ignores her, like she’d known he would.
“We oughta go into Orvieto,” Johnnie says. “The old part.”
Tilting his head back, Noel fixes Johnnie with a look. “And see what, exactly? A church? Some old ladies selling bread?”
Unlike Lara, Johnnie never flinches from Noel’s barbs, merely shaking them off like he does everything else. He’d clearly been a bit wounded by Mari not immediately throwing herself at him over the etched glass, but on the whole, he seems to have recovered, and she’s relieved. There are already too many romantic complications in this house without adding Johnnie’s crush on her into the mix.
He glances over at her now, his gaze warm, then turns his attention back to Noel. “Supposedly, they’ve got a well that goes down into hell.”
Noel perks up at that. “Really?”
“Well,” Johnnie amends, “it’s named after some place in Ireland that goes down into hell, but it’s still pretty fucking deep.”
Scowling, Noel sinks further into the sofa. “Think I’ll pass on seeing a very deep hole in the ground, mate. I’m not quite that bored yet.”
Johnnie may not mind Noel’s jibes, but it’s clear he enjoyed those few seconds when Noel actually appeared interested in something he had to say, so he tries again. “Also, the lady who runs the shop down the hill told me this villa is meant to be haunted. Apparently someone topped themselves up here back in the fifteen hundreds.”
“Whoever this unfortunate person was, I feel a kinship,” Noel says, sighing dramatically as he tips his head back, and Mari can’t bite her tongue any longer.
“Yes, what a hardship, staying in a gorgeous villa with all the food and drink you could want and no shortage of beautiful things to look at. However have you coped thus far, milord?”
It’s a nickname she’s given him over the past week, a pointed reminder that for all his decadence and rock-star pretensions, he’s still the son of an earl, and Mari suspects he loves it and hates it in equal measure.
Lara shoots her a dirty look, but Noel only laughs.
“Now, see? Pierce is right. Mari is neither bored nor boring.”
His gaze slides to Lara, upper lip curling slightly. “Some of you should clearly take notes.”
The hurt that flashes over Lara’s face is gone as quickly as it appeared, but Mari catches it. She feels sorry for her stepsister, truly she does, but she also can’t deny the primal satisfaction she feels, seeing Lara taken down a few notches. Mari knows she should be ashamed of herself, but she isn’t.
Noel stands, slapping his hands against his thighs. He’s once again thrown that garish dressing gown on over a pair of black jeans and nothing else, the rings on his fingers glinting in the candlelight. “I’ve changed my mind,” he announces, dark hair flopping over his brow. “Come, Sheldon, let’s give Mistress Mary what she’s commanded.”
Pierce stands up, guitar in hand, his gaze fixed on Noel, face bright. His free hand absentmindedly brushes over Mari’s hair as he goes to where Noel has set up his guitar near the window. They’d dragged over a couple of wooden chairs from somewhere else in the house a few days ago when they’d sworn they were going to write, only to get distracted by … lord, Mari can’t even remember.