As they approached it Serena saw that the house had a handsome garden, and there was a well-tended hedge surrounding it, with a tall, ornate wrought-iron grille that closed it off from the outside. B.J.'s driver stopped the car in front of the gate, and then hurried out to unlock it before driving inside. The car stopped just in front of the house and B.J. turned toward her.

“Well, my love, this is it.”

“It looks lovely.” She beamed at him, not caring one whit about the house, only caring about what she saw in his eyes. And her own eyes seemed to sparkle as he gently kissed her, and then stepped out to lead her inside.

They walked quickly up the steps to another heavy iron door, which was almost instantly opened by a small, round, bald-headed man with twinkling blue eyes and a bright smile, and beside him was an equally small, and jovial-looking woman.

“Monsieur et Madame Lavisse, my fiancée, the Principessa di San Tibaldo.” Serena looked instantly embarrassed by the use of her title, as she held out her hand and they both executed stiff little bows.

“We are happy to meet you.” They smiled at her warmly.

“And I am very happy to meet you.” She glanced just behind them at what she could see of the house. “It looks lovely.” They seemed pleased at the compliment, almost as though the mansion were their own, and they offered immediately to show her around.

“It is not, we regret to say, as it once was,” Pierre apologized as he showed her the rear garden, “but we have done our best to keep it intact for Monsieur le Baron.” Their employer hadn't seen his home in Paris in five years, and it was possible that now ill at seventy-five years of age he would never live to, but faithful to the end, they had kept it for him, and he paid them handsomely for all that they did. Originally he had trustingly left them with a large fund for all their expenses, and now each month a check was sent to them again. In return they had cared for the beautiful home with constant love and attention, hidden the most valuable objects and the best paintings in a secret room beneath the basement, which even the Germans had not found, and now during the reign of the Americans in Paris, they were still tending the house as though it were theirs.

Like the palazzo in Rome, the halls here were of marble, but here the marble was a soft peachy rose. The Louis XV benches, set at regular intervals down the hallway, were trimmed with gilt and upholstered in a pale peach velvet. There were two exquisite paintings by Turner, of rich Venetian sunsets, a large inlaid Louis XV chest with a pink marble slab on top, and several other small exquisite pieces scattered here and there. From the hall one could glimpse the garden, visible through tall French windows, which led out onto the little paved paths bordered by pretty flowers in spring. Now the garden had little to offer, and it was into the main salon that they turned, as Serena stared in awe. The room was done in deep red damask and white velvet, there were heavy Napoleonic pieces, upholstered chaise longues in bold raspberry and cream stripes, and two huge Chinese urns beside a priceless desk. There were huge portraits of members of the baron's family, and a fireplace, large enough for the major to stand in, in which there was now a blazing fire. It was a room designed to cause one to catch one's breath in admiration and wonder, and yet at the same time it was a room that beckoned one to come inside and sit down. Serena glanced around with delight at little Chinese objets d'art, Persian rugs, and a series of smaller portraits by Zorn, of the baron and his sisters as children, and B.J. led the way into a smaller wood-paneled room beyond. Here too there was a roaring fire waiting, but the fireplace was smaller, and three walls of the room were filled with beautifully bound books. Here and there were gaps on the shelves, which Pierre pointed to with dismay. This was the only loss inflicted by the Germans. The officer who had lived there had taken some of the books with him when he left. But Pierre counted himself fortunate that nothing else had been taken. The German had been a man of honor, and had not removed anything else.

On the same floor there was also a beautiful little oval breakfast room that looked out on the garden, and a formal dining room beyond it, with exquisite murals of a Chinese village on the wall. The paper had been preserved since the eighteenth century and had been designed in England originally for the Duke of Yorkshire, but one of the baron's ancestors had bought it directly from the artist and spirited it into France. The furniture had the typical clawed feet and scroll backs of Chippendale, and there was a splendid English sideboard that was waxed to a rich shine. And as Serena passed admiringly through the rooms she was reminded of her grandmother's house in Venice, but this was less sumptuous and yet more so. The Italian palazzi she had lived in had all been larger and showier than this, and yet this house was filled with such exquisite pieces that, even though it was smaller, it seemed somehow more impressive. It was more like a museum and as she wandered through it she marveled to herself and sotto voce to B.J. that they had been able to preserve everything as it was throughout the war. It was also especially touching that the old butler had trusted B.J. enough to bring out some of the really good things.

“The old boy is quite something.” B.J. indicated Pierre in a whisper as they followed the old butler upstairs. Marie-Rose, his wife, had disappeared to the kitchen to get Serena something to eat. “From what he tells me, he had most of this hidden in the basement. And I get the feeling that some of the best pieces are still there.” But he couldn't have hidden the furniture, Serena knew, or not all of it, and it was remarkable that none of the beautiful pieces she saw around her had been damaged or taken over the years.

Upstairs there were four pretty bedrooms. A large handsome master bedroom done in a rich blue satin, with smooth, shining woods everywhere, a handsome chaise longue, a cozy love seat, a small desk, and another fireplace. There was a pretty view of the garden below and a little peek at the rest of Paris, and there was also a small study that B.J. occasionally used as an office, as well as a dressing room, which B.J. told her would be hers. Beyond it was a beautiful bedroom done in pinks, which had belonged to the late baroness, Pierre told them, and two other bedrooms now used for guests, one in a rich green with a handsome painting of the hunt over the fireplace, and a wealth of English prints of the same sport all over the walls. The bedroom beyond it was done in gray, with toile de Jouy on the walls, showing pastoral scenes and shepherds, all in gray on a muted beige fabric that had been applied to the walls. There were handsome brass candelabra, another beautiful desk, and several other fine antique pieces.

“And upstairs is the attic.” Pierre grinned at them both with pleasure. He loved showing off the house.

“It's a wonderful house, Pierre,” Serena said. “I don't know what to say. It's much more beautiful than anything I've seen in Italy, or the States. Don't you think, Brad?” She looked up at B.J. gently, her eyes filled with delight. Pierre thought it made the heart light just to watch them.

“I told you she'd love the house, didn't I?” B.J. nodded and looked at Pierre.

“Yes, sir. And now if you and Mademoiselle would like to come downstairs to the library, I'm sure that Marie-Rose has prepared something for Mademoiselle.” His assumption had been correct, they discovered a moment later as they walked into the library and discovered a plate filled with sandwiches, another covered with small cakes and cookies, and a tall silver jug of hot chocolate waiting for them.

B.J. could hardly wait for Pierre to leave them, which he did a moment later. Brad put his arms around his love and kissed her hungrily the moment she sat down on the couch.

“God, I never thought I'd be alone with you. Oh, baby, how I've missed you.”

“And I you.” For just a flash of an instant the pain of those first days without him flashed into her eyes, and she clung to him for a moment. “I was so afraid, B.J.… that I'd never see you again, that …” She closed her eyes tightly for a moment and then kissed his neck. “I can't believe that I'm here, with you, in this beautiful house … it's all like a dream, and I'm afraid I'll wake up.” She looked around her with a happy smile, and he kissed her again.

“If you do wake up, I'll be beside you. And not only that, by the time you wake up again, you'll be my wife.”

“What?” She looked startled for a moment. “So soon?”

“Why? Did you want time to reconsider?” But the young lieutenant colonel didn't look concerned as he took one of the sandwiches Marie-Rose had made them and sat back against the couch. He had been promoted when he left Rome.

“Don't be silly. I just thought it would take a little longer to organize“ She looked at him in sudden realization, and a mischievous smile began to dance in her eyes. “Does that mean we're getting married today?”

“More of less. Half married, to be more exact.”

“Half married?” She looked vastly amused as she sipped her hot chocolate. “You mean I'm getting married and you're not?”

“Nope, we both are. Over here you have two weddings apparently. One at l'hôtel le ville, like city hall, just for the record, so to speak. And the next day you do a religious service in the church of your choice. You don't really have to do the second, but I sort of thought you'd want to.” He looked suddenly shy as he looked at Serena. “We could have been married by the chaplain, but there's a pretty little church near here, and I thought that maybe … if you'd like …” He was blushing like a boy, and Serena took his face in her hands and kissed him.

“Do you know how much I love you, sir?”

“No, tell me.”

“With all my heart and soul.”

“That's all?” He attempted to look disappointed but did not succeed. “What about the rest?”

“You have a filthy mind. The rest isn't yours until after the wedding.”

“What?” This time he looked genuinely shocked. “What do you mean?”

“Just what you think. I'll go to the altar as a virgin … relatively!” She grinned and he let out a whoop.

“Well, I'll be.… Which wedding anyway? The one today, or the one tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow morning of course. We have the same system in Italy that they have here.” She looked prim and virginal as she crossed her long shapely legs and looked at him over her cup of chocolate.

“Well, it you aren't the most outrageous tease.” And then, with determination, he set down her cup and began to kiss her, one hand sliding slowly up her leg, and the other pressing her against him.

“B.J.! Stop that!”

It was at mat moment that Pierre walked in, coughing discreetly and rather loudly closing the glass doors behind him, and Serena smoothed her skirt and looked daggers at B.J., who only grinned. “Yes, Pierre?”

“The car is here, sir.”

B.J. looked gently at Serena then. He had barely had time to explain and it was already about to happen. “Darling, this is it. Round One. Do you want to go upstairs for a few minutes and wash your face or something before we go?”

“Now? Already?” She looked suddenly panicked. “But I just got off the train. I look awful.”

“Not to me.” He smiled at her and she knew he meant it, but she stood up hurriedly and looked at him for only an instant before hurrying to the door, where she turned and looked at him distractedly.

“I'll be right back. Don't leave without me.” She heard him laughing as she disappeared into the pink marble hall, and then he heard her rushing up the stairs. To him, it seemed as though she were gone forever, but in fact she was only gone for ten minutes, and when she returned, she looked lovely, and almost like a bride. The week before in Rome, Marcella had made her a simple white wool dress with broad shoulders, a plain rounded collar, short sleeves, and a tiny waist above a softly flaring skirt. The fabric was beautiful and Marcella had bought it with her savings of the past months as a gift for Serena. She had asked her to wear it at her wedding. Now, walking slowly down the stairs, her golden hair swept into a smooth figure-eight knot, her eyes bright, and the beautifully made dress swirling gently around her, she looked like a principessa to the very tips of her toes. She stood very tall as she came toward B.J., and he saw that she was wearing a single strand of pearls and matching pearl earrings in her ears, then she turned her face up toward him and he kissed her lips.