Blackwell rolled over on the small hotel bed and his back hit the wooden frame. One of the good things about Woodbridge Hall was that his bed was wide enough for his shoulders.

The room felt still and cold. He sat up and saw the curtain was drawn, but that the sun shone beyond them. He could tell the room was empty but stood and called out, “Donna.”

She didn’t answer. He went to check the bathroom to see if she was inside and saw a note on the desk near the front door with his name printed on the outside. He ripped open the small envelope to read.

Blackwell, Last night was wonderful. I had to catch the morning train to Venice. It was lovely getting to know the man beneath the blue jacket. Yours, Donna

She’d left. Without a goodbye. Normally he was the one that ran off in the middle of the night to avoid a confrontation. A feeling that he missed her felt strange in his gut, but he splashed water on his face and dressed before going downstairs where his driver waited for him. He tipped the innkeeper on the way out and stepped into the morning air. His driver opened the rear passenger door. “Did you see Ms. Smith this morning?”

The driver looked at him with surprise but then lowered his head and answered in a low tone to ensure privacy. “I drove her to the train station. She took the seven o’clock train to Venice. I carried one bag for her.”

No other woman he knew went across Europe with one bag. Donna was unique and it seemed she truly was gone. The clench in his stomach would ease with time. He patted his driver on the shoulder and slid inside. “Good man. Now take me home.”

“Absolutely, Your Grace.” The driver closed the door.

Inside the limo, the light scent of vanilla still clung in the air.

The word fool ran in his brain but he ignored it as they drove the short distance back to Woodbridge Hall.

He’d likely never see Donna again and the knot in his stomach travelled up to his chest. This shouldn’t feel like a mistake. He ignored the warning and walked inside his empty house, up the stairs toward his room.

Hopefully a shower would wash away this regret. Just outside the hall near his bedroom, his mother called out from behind him, “How was the wedding?”

He turned and kissed her cheek. Gray hair smoothed in a bob, dressed in a stylish black shift despite the hour. Her rosy cheeks meant she was healthy and well. “Good, Mother. You’re up early.”

She made a tsk sound in her throat. “The Vernaks were here for breakfast, wondering if you were still with your date. But that’s not important—I have news.”

The Vernaks would inherit his title and all his entailed wealth if he did not marry by the age of thirty. Of course, they’d want to know if he was interested in marrying Donna. His heart pounded at the idea, but he stayed focused on his mother. “About?”

She took a business envelope from her side pocket. “The name of your true match from the Royal IT Department.”

Blackwell opened his bedroom door and waved her to follow him inside. “Mother, I know I have to marry but I don’t want to think about it today.”

“You promised.” She held out the small, thick envelope.

He had. Blackwell went to his closet and deposited the blue velvet jacket for dry cleaning and unbuttoned his shirt. “I’m tired from last night.”

“The Vernaks came for breakfast. I swear they were counting the silverware instead of enjoying the quiche.”

His t-shirt was still on when he returned to his bedroom and asked, “You’re not going to stop until I hear the name and resume, are you?”

She shrugged, not caring that he’d called her out. “That was the plan.”

He went to the sitting area of his bedroom which overlooked the green lawn leading to his stables and a koi pond with a marble fountain. He parked himself in the chair and let his head fall against the cushioned back. “Okay, if I can rest my eyes, I’ll listen while you read.”

She took the next seat and he heard the delicate tear of the envelope. Then her movements as she riffled through the papers. Slowly she said, “Her name is Donna Smith. From Miami.”

Had he dreamed those words? He sat straight and stared at his mother. She adjusted her glasses and continued to read the page to herself. He folded his hands in front of him. “Repeat that.”

She scanned the sheet. “Donna Smith. She’s a librarian.”

The computer had figured out his perfect match—but he’d known, hadn’t he? He never should have let her go. His heart stilled like he had his answer that stared him in the face the entire time. He reached for the papers. “Can I read her resume?”

Mother took her glasses off and handed him the papers. “I’m glad you’re taking this more seriously, Blackwell.”

Donna’s picture assured him that she was the same woman. Sweet smile, chestnut hair and black layers. She lived in Miami and her parents were gone. She hadn’t said it was a car accident on the highway, but he’d not asked. His heart sped up as his face felt hot. “Mother, Donna Smith was my date last night.”

A huge grin grew on her slightly lined face. “That’s wonderful. You know her.”

And they both planned to never see each other again. The pounding in his veins that he’d made a mistake caught his attention. “No, you don’t understand—she’s gone.”

Her eyes widened behind her silver frames. “Gone where?”

Off to see Europe and not return to him—she’d seemed serious about keeping what happened one night only. A tingling sensation that he’d lost flushed his face. “Venice.”

“Pfft.” She shrugged. “So go find her. That’s only a few hours away.”

It seemed his mother grew angel wings in that moment. Of course. He jumped out of his chair. “Mother, I don’t… okay, I will grab a fast shower and drive.”

She stood and fixed her black dress. “How did she go?”

“The train.” He wished he’d asked more about her trip. He knew that she’d never been to Venice so he’d start with the tourist spots.

His mother walked toward the door. “Good luck! I’m so excited to meet this Donna. She must be special.”

She was. He’d known it when she’d bravely swallowed the beer she didn’t like in the bar. If he married Donna, then perhaps the feeling of being trapped would ease. He held onto the chair and stared out the window. “Mother, I screwed this up already, but if it’s possible, I’d marry her.”

His mother clapped. “Good to hear. I’ll move my things to the dower house and have the duchess quarters set up while you’re gone.”

So practical, as always. The moment his bedroom door closed, he raced to his bathroom. The train made a lot of stops along the way. He’d drive straight to Venice. With luck, he’d arrive within the hour she did. The shower revived him as did the idea of Donna being his duchess.

A few minutes later, he raced down the stairs in a fresh pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt. She was American and would understand his preference for comfort. He’d packed a button-down Oxford for something dressier while he prayed her past hurts didn’t interfere with them, in the here and now.

His mom waited for him at the bottom step. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” he said as he flew past. “I don’t have her phone number.”

His mother snapped her fingers and he stopped on his heels. “I can help. She talked to someone named Beth Conners from Miami. I’ll call her first, and see if she’ll talk or I’ll hire investigators. I’ll call you when I get any useful information.”

“Sounds good.” His mother had a way of making things happen.

He opened the door as she said, “And buy a ring. Women like to be proposed to with a ring.”

Right. The buzz in the back of his mind said Donna might not agree, so it was good to go in with a plan to get her to say yes. He nodded. “I will. Goodbye.”

“You’ll knock her socks off.” His mom was trying to sound as American as their neighbors had once been and it made him chuckle.

He hopped into his red Ferrari convertible and the engine sang to life as he sped out of his estate and onto the highway.

Donna’s smile was all the fuel his body needed. As he passed the welcome sign for Italy, he picked up his cell phone and called his secretary. On the second ring, Piers said, “Hello.”

Blackwell didn’t start with the niceties. Instead he launched into what he needed while driving fast on the highway. “Piers, please call all the hotels you know in Venice. Make me a reservation at the usual but also find out where a Miss Donna Smith, American, is staying.”

Piers, efficient as ever, said, “I’m on it, sir. As you are driving to Venice right now? Shall I cancel your appointment with the Earl of Sky?”

Riding horses could be postponed. He nodded though no one could see him. “Yes, reschedule our ride and tell Remington I’ll call him; never mind—he’s calling now. I’ll handle it.” His phone beeped and he glanced at the screen, then switched lines. “Remington. I’m driving to Venice—we’ll have to reschedule.”

His friend had also grown up in America but on the beaches of California instead of the mountains of Colorado. “What’s in Venice? I thought you were determined to stay in Woodbridge Hall for the next six months to finally get used to the place.”

True, that had been the plan. It still was, once Donna agreed to return with him but if anyone knew what the rush was for, it was Remington. He had even less time to find a wife. “My mother asked the Royal IT Department for the name of the woman who matches my personality. She’s American, and visiting Europe—specifically Venice.”

“But you asked the Earl of Paston for Chelsea Bright’s hand—which left her unavailable for my offer, by the way.”

“They haven’t accepted my offer. It’s a business deal. Are you in love with Chelsea?”

“I’m in a time crunch as you know, and she seemed nice enough. I sent an offer which is how I know about yours.”

When he came back from Venice, he’d rescind the offer straight away. “Maybe they’ll accept yours—give me a few days.”

Remington sighed. “I suppose I need to call the palace, too. I’m closer to thirty than you.”

“By twenty-three days.” Blackwell never dreamed that his old barb might mean a ticking clock now. He quickly changed the topic. “So, I take it Lucinda is not going to be your Countess?”

Remington cursed softly. “We won’t suit long term. I think growing up in the United States affected both of us in different ways. Neither of us had a chance to find love in college.”

In the movies, finding the right wife came off as an adventure, but in his world marriage came with a stopwatch saying that they must marry within a certain time frame, followed by old world whispers that love was for dreamers and fools.

The picture of Donna, sweet smile, dressed in black, brought him back to the present. Hopefully he’d get both. If she was a physical and mental match, then it allowed his heart to admit that this rush might be about love. He shook his head and refused to share those sentiments with his friend. “You are smart to realize that before the vows. I took Donna to Prince Aussa’s wedding last night, and I have to say I’m surprised in a good way that her name was on the print out. Now I have to convince her that this is a good idea.”

Remington’s deep voice boomed from the speaker. “Convince her? Nice twist. Well, good luck Blackwell. You always outshine your competitors. I look forward to meeting her.”

They said goodbye and Blackwell ended the call. No one was going to stop him from finding her again. Donna Smith was a perfect choice to be his wife and with her, maybe he could also find love. Anything was possible.