After Alec closed the bedroom door behind him, Lottie paced back and forth, waiting for her heart to stop skittering. She should have insisted on staying with him, or at least asked who that handsome, dark-haired man was, but she was still reeling from their exchange outside his door. Alec had been holding himself back, straining against some unseen force, but for one brief moment his carefully controlled facade had fallen away again.
Lottie let out a sigh as she stripped off her gloves and removed her hat. She tossed them onto the bed and sat down on the edge. It didn’t appear that Alec spent much time here, as the room was mostly empty. Aside from the bed, there was a small, battered wardrobe, and tucked away in a corner was a piece of furniture shrouded in a dust cover. Based on the dimensions, it was probably a desk. Like the rest of the flat, the room had high ceilings and tall windows. The afternoon sunlight saved the room from looking too dreary. It must have been lovely once, but now the walls were sun bleached, the plaster was chipped, and the tiled floor was scuffed and worn. Why on earth would Alec wish to own this place? She had caught a glimpse of the Grand Canal through the parlor window, but the view didn’t seem a fair trade for living in a run-down old palazzo.
When her heartbeat had returned to normal, she rose from the bed and pressed her ear against the door. All she could hear was muffled voices. The man must be another agent. And yet Alec had looked terribly put out by his appearance. She gave up on listening and walked over to the covered piece of furniture. A swipe of her finger revealed an impressive layer of dust. Whatever was under there hadn’t seen light in ages. Lottie lifted up a corner and peeked underneath. Her suspicions had been correct. It was a desk. A rather beautiful one.
She glanced cautiously at the door again, then gave herself a shake. It was only a piece of furniture, for heaven’s sake. Not Pandora’s box. Lottie carefully pulled the cover off so as not to release a cloud of dust and revealed a beautiful, black, lacquered writing desk with an elegant gold chinoiserie design painted over the surface. She ran her fingers over the smooth, cool edge. The fine heirloom seemed entirely out of place compared to the rest of the unremarkable furniture. The desk’s surface was empty, but the lone drawer held two small picture frames of a man and a woman.
One was a pencil sketch of Edward Gresham similar to the image that had been used in his collected works; Lottie picked it up to have a closer look. This must have been a sketch the artist composed during one of the sessions for the formal portrait. Edward Gresham had been a handsome devil, and Alec shared his father’s dark hair, strong nose, and powerful jaw.
She replaced the frame and picked up the other, much smaller portrait. A miniature, really. The woman must be Alec’s mother. Lottie had never seen her likeness before. The late Mrs. Gresham had been a simple laundress here in Venice when she met Alec’s father and, at least according to the startling number of poems he had written on the subject, it was love at first sight. Edward Gresham must have had this portrait commissioned after they married. The corner of Lottie’s mouth turned up. How very like him to eschew the convenience of photography for the romance of the painted image.
Mrs. Gresham was, unsurprisingly, strikingly beautiful, with fair hair and hazel eyes. It was easy to see how she could kindle true love in the heart of any man. Lottie squinted and drew the frame closer. There was some kind of inscription along the bottom: Contessa Maria Petrucci.
That name…
It’s a very old, very well-respected family in these parts.
The blood rushed to her face as she stared at the inscription. Perhaps this wasn’t Alec’s mother after all. Lottie scrutinized the woman’s face again. No. The likeness wasn’t as strong as his father’s, but it was there all the same in the color of her eyes and the sensual shape of her mouth. And she certainly matched Edward Gresham’s descriptions of his great love. But if that were true, then she hadn’t been a common laundress at all. She was a noblewoman.
Lottie slowly returned the miniature to its place. There could be any number of perfectly valid, perfectly boring reasons why Edward Gresham hid his wife’s identity, and why Uncle Alfred hadn’t corrected the information even after their deaths. But the simplest—and most salacious—rose to the surface:
Maria Petrucci was never Edward’s wife.
And if that were true, then Alec was illegitimate.
Shuffling came from the other side of the door. Someone was approaching. Lottie quickly replaced the dust cover and returned to the edge of the bed, doing her best to hide her shock. Questions burned in her brain, but she couldn’t ask them. At least not now. If Alec wanted her to know the truth, he would tell her. Wouldn’t he?
The door swung open and Alec entered. He looked tense and agitated, but his eyes immediately softened once they fell on her. How badly she wanted him to share the truth with her. To trust her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “Is your…friend still here?”
“He just left.” Alec sat down beside her and stared at the floor. “But he’ll be back.”
Goodness, how tired he looked. Lottie had the urge to stroke away the tension from his brow, but that insurmountable wall seemed to separate them once again, now built of more secrets than she could count. “He’s an agent, isn’t he?”
“Yes. We often work together.” Alec turned to her. “And it appears that my presence is required at Signore Cardinelli’s this evening after all,” he said with marked displeasure.
“Oh, is that so?” Lottie said, feigning wide-eyed innocence.
Alec frowned, not at all fooled. “Don’t think this gives you the chance to play detective. You’re only coming because I doubt I’ll be admitted without you.” Lottie smiled but Alec’s frown only deepened. “You’ll stay away from Cardinelli. Give me your word.”
“I will,” she reluctantly agreed. “And what will you be doing while I’m busy not talking to the signore?”
He slanted his gaze to the window. “It’s better the less you know,” he said coolly. “But I…I won’t be myself tonight. Do you understand?”
Lottie pressed her lips together. That could mean all sorts of things.
For once, Alec didn’t try to hide his feelings. But she couldn’t tell which troubled him: fearing for her safety, or what she might think of him after this evening.
All the more important that she show him her mettle. And that she could accept him, no matter his past.
“Yes. Perhaps I’ll finally be able to see this charm I’ve heard so much about.” She then placed her hand on top of his and gave it a reassuring pat. “Don’t you worry about me.”
Alec let out a soft breath. “I do, though,” he murmured, while staring at their hands. “How can I not?” Then he glanced up. All she could hear now was the crushing vulnerability that laced through every word, the uncertainty behind every gesture.
Lottie’s smile faded as his eyes were drawn to her mouth. They darkened just as they did in the hall, right before she had nearly kissed him. Her stomach tightened with anticipation, emphasizing the hollow ache inside her, but as she began to lean toward him, Alec tore his hand away from hers and stood. “Your trunk is still downstairs. I’ll bring it up,” he said briskly. “And I’ll see about having someone come to help you dress. Nico’s aunt has aspirations to become a lady’s maid. She might enjoy the chance to practice on you.” Lottie shook her head to protest, but he held up a hand and forced a smile. “I insist. If we must descend upon Venetian society tonight, we can at least do so in a grand fashion.” Then he turned on his heel and left the room.
A little while later, Alec returned with Lottie’s trunk and a pretty, dark-haired young woman.
“This is Valentina. She will help you.”
The young woman grinned and clasped Lottie’s hand in both of hers. “I am so happy to meet you, signora.”
“Please, call me Lottie. My, your English is excellent.” Then she turned to Alec. “I see you’ve kept yourself busy, Professor.”
Color suffused his cheeks as he turned away. “You can use this room,” he said as he led them into the bedroom next to his own. Most of the furniture was also covered in dust sheets, but Alec pulled a few off, revealing a gilt dressing table and a matching full-length mirror even finer than the desk in his room. Valentina pulled over a chair and immediately began to unpack her beauty instruments, but Alec seemed riveted by a silver-plated brush, comb, and hand mirror that rested on the tabletop.
Lottie’s heart twisted as another realization hit her: Alec hadn’t bought this dilapidated palazzo; he had inherited it. From his parents.
And this must have been his mother’s room.
Alec reached out and grazed the handle of the brush with his little finger. “Use whatever you need.” Then he glanced over and Lottie nearly lost her breath. He looked just as lonely, just as lost, as he had on the first day they met all those years ago.
“Thank you.”
He gave her a short nod. “I have to see to a few things before this evening. But I leave you in Valentina’s most excellent care. You can trust her. With anything,” he stressed.
“I’m sure,” Lottie murmured, confused by his sudden gravity.
Alec then cast another longing glance at the dressing table before he left. Lottie stared after him, wishing for all the world she could ease his pain. But it would take far more than a plate of custard tarts this time.
“Come sit,” Valentina said with an engaging smile.
Indeed, the young woman was thrilled to have the chance to practice her skills and must have thanked Lottie a dozen times over. After two days of travel, Lottie’s hair was a wretched mess. She tried to apologize to Valentina, but the girl waved her hand. “Not to worry. I will help.” She then loosened Lottie’s pathetic excuse for a Psyche knot and began to gently comb through her hair. At Lottie’s urging, she chattered happily about her desire to become a lady’s maid abroad.
“You don’t want to stay here in Venice?”
Valentina frowned. “No. There is nothing for me in this city. Not anymore,” she added softly. Her mouth then twisted with the familiar expression of regret.
“But what about your sister, and little Nico?”
“They have the professor now. He will watch over them,” she said with a certainty that made Lottie tense.
I can take care of them.
Alec’s earlier assertion now echoed in her mind. It had been unexpectedly devastating. For years Lottie had wanted her independence, to belong to no one but herself. But in that moment she craved to know what it felt like to be under his care not at the behest of her uncle, but because he truly wished it. Lottie chewed her lip. Surely Valentina’s sister was as comely as she was, and Alec obviously doted on Nico. A fellow countrywoman—a fellow Venetian—could provide him with a kind of understanding that Lottie would never be able to match.
Valentina’s sharp gaze met hers in the mirror. Her eyebrows rose. “No, signorita. I did not mean—” She paused and shook her head. “My sister has the misfortune to only love Nico’s father.”
“And the professor?” Lottie heard herself ask.
Valentina shrugged and turned her attention back to her work. “I have never seen him with a woman. Until you.”
Lottie looked down at her hands. She had no wish to see the ridiculous blush that was spreading across her face. Still, it meant nothing. Why, she all but forced Alec to bring her here in the first place.
And yet…
Any more talk of Alec ended as Stella, Nico’s mother, arrived to press Lottie’s gown. She was, indeed, a pretty woman but far more serious than Valentina. There was a hardness about her that likely came from shouldering a great deal of responsibility at a young age. Stella didn’t appear to know much English, or perhaps she was not as loquacious as her younger sister. She greeted Lottie and gave her sister a fond kiss on the cheek, then immediately set to work.
After Valentina had finished brushing out Lottie’s hair, she artfully pinned her mass of curls in a heavy knot at the back of her head. Then she teased a few long tendrils to spill gracefully over her shoulders. Once Valentina finished, the sisters helped Lottie dress. She had found the gown in a little shop in Florence run by a rather forward-thinking seamstress. A fine lady had it commissioned, but then she disappeared without paying. The gown was cleverly designed with a corset built into the bodice, but that didn’t stop Stella from fastening it within an inch of her life. Lottie pressed a hand against her waist and let out a breath. “Perhaps it could be loosened a bit?”
Despite the language barrier, Stella knew exactly what Lottie meant. She soundly shook her head and guided Lottie over to a floor-length gilt mirror. “See?”
“Oh my goodness,” Lottie murmured. She both looked, and felt, like an ethereal creature. A Botticelli goddess come to life. The Florentine gown was made of diaphanous ivory-colored silk and tulle with a daringly low bodice that fit like a second skin, enhancing her figure in all the right places before giving way to a fuller skirt tastefully embroidered with flowers that seemed to spring from the very dress itself. More gauzy fabric was generously draped along her shoulders, like fairy wings.
Even Stella nodded with approval. “Si, questa è una bellissima creazione.”
Lottie turned to Valentina. “I’ve no doubt you will make a wonderful lady’s maid,” she said, pressing several coins into the girl’s palm.
Valentina’s eyes widened at the amount and she gave Lottie a broad smile. “Grazie, signorita.”
“Do let me know if you need a reference.”
“But, the professor said I was to go to England with you.”
Lottie tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“When you return tomorrow. He said you could not go by yourself.” Valentina gave her a worried frown. “Is—is that not right?”
I have to see to a few things.
You can trust her. With anything.
Alec had already planned their separation without one word to her. Again.
“Oh,” Lottie said softly as understanding washed over her. “Yes. Yes, of course. I—I wasn’t thinking.” She managed a tight smile and the girl relaxed.
The sisters spent a few more minutes cooing over her before they led Lottie into the parlor. Alec leaned against the doorframe of the balcony that looked out onto the Grand Canal; he cut a striking figure against the breathtaking view. The sun had just begun to set, and Lottie inhaled at the purple sky and deep gold clouds tinged with red. The dome of Basilica San Marco was visible in the distance. Alec turned at the sound of her entrance, but his face was cast in shadow against the brilliant light framing him. He had changed into a black evening suit with a white shirt and bow tie. Severe and elegant. The sight was nearly as breathtaking as the sunset. Lottie hadn’t seen him dressed so formally since…
…since the evening of her coming out ball.
When you fell in love with him. And then he broke your heart.
Without so much as a backward glance.
Lottie struggled to swallow past the lump in her throat while her scarred heart thundered in her chest. What was she doing here? She had been happy in her little Tuscan cottage. Perhaps a bit lonely at times, but one could be lonely anywhere. Even in a house full of people. And yet, after months of meticulous planning, after she had finally started making a new life for herself, she had given it all up as soon as Alec came calling. Because he was always unavoidable. Forever inescapable.
And she still loved him. Even now. Even after everything.
The moment seemed to stretch endlessly between them until she became that pitiful, friendless orphan once again, clambering after Alec, begging for his friendship, desperate for the warmth, the care, her duty-bound uncle could never provide, to feel wanted, needed, by another person.
Promise you won’t ever leave me again.
Her cheeks now burned at the memory. Back then she had no shame in revealing such raw emotions to him. In admitting how much she needed him, how small and weak she was without him. What had he said in return? She couldn’t remember now. But it didn’t matter. She had her answer. She’d had it a thousand times over already.
The ladies faded into the background as Alec wavered before her eyes. She knew he was speaking, and yet the words couldn’t penetrate her woolly mind. Just as her vision began to blur, his warm hand clasped her upper arm—the only part that wasn’t covered by her evening gloves. She trembled under his touch as he anchored her to the ground. To this moment. With him.
“Look at me.” The commanding tone washed over her, cool and calming. His voice was even deeper than usual, and the very sound felt like a long, lingering caress.
It would take a lifetime to forget him now, if she was lucky. One could not outrun their own memories, and she had amassed so many more over the past few days. Lottie blinked, and her eyes flickered to his face. Alec was so close she could see the flecks of gold in his irises. His intense gaze pierced straight through to her chest, but she would never know what it felt like to belong to him. She was just another obligation. Just another part of his duty.
“Sit.” Alec guided her down to the sofa. Then he called to one of the women behind her and asked for food and drink. Lottie frowned as he kneeled before her. He would wrinkle his trousers before they even left, but Alec didn’t seem to care. He took a tray from one of the ladies and handed her a plate of the rice Nico had brought earlier. “Here. You must eat. I thought you were going to faint right in front of me.”
Lottie gave no response. She did as she was told, barely registering the taste of the food. After a few bites, Lottie moved on to the glass of wine. It was cool and sweet. She drank deeply, greedily, until Alec clucked his tongue and stilled her hand. “Careful. I can’t have you foxed before supper,” he said with a small smile, then he took the glass, stood up, and walked over to the sisters.
While they spoke, Lottie stared blankly out the window waiting for the wine to swirl through every vein, deaden every nerve, strangle every sense. She was tired of feeling so much. And for a man who didn’t appear to feel as much for her in return.
Tonight she needed numbness. Blessed emptiness.
Behind her Alec thanked the sisters for their work, and some more coin was exchanged. They left on a swish of skirts before the front door shut softly. Alec stood in place for what felt like hours, then she heard the slow, heavy tread of his footsteps. Lottie’s pulse quickened a little more with every step, and the sweetness from the wine turned metallic on her tongue. Dread and desire warred within her. She dragged her eyes away from the window and onto the floor until the toes of his freshly polished shoes came into view.
Alec stopped a foot from her. “As I was saying before you nearly toppled over, Valentina has outdone herself.”
Lottie drew her gaze slowly, steadily, up Alec’s form until she reached the eyes she had once known so well. “Yes. Luckily, I seem to have acquired her services when I leave. Tomorrow.”
Alec had the decency not to look away. “It was what we agreed upon. One day in Venice. And then you leave.”
But not without you.
“It will be all right,” he continued. “As long as Valentina accompanies you home. She’s been wanting to go to England anyway, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. I’ve paid for her ticket and given her funds for lodging. You aren’t obligated to hire her, but I’m sure a reference would help.”
“Of course,” she murmured.
Home. It had been ages since any place had felt like that. Lottie turned away. She couldn’t bear his stony expression. “You’re sending me away,” she whispered, hating the weakness in her voice. He was still only thinking of her blasted reputation. Of fulfilling his duty.
“It’s for your own protection.”
Lottie met his dark gaze. Mine, or yours? But she kept the accusation to herself. Some unspoken emotion briefly flashed across his face, but she could not make him speak, no matter how badly she wished for it.
“You don’t have to do this,” he finally murmured. “You can stay here tonight.”
That was certainly the more sensible choice. But Lottie hadn’t come to Italy in the first place to make safe choices. She came here to be bold. To put everything at stake—her reputation, her future, and, it seemed, her heart. None of that should change because of Alec’s presence. She would still have a life to live once he had gone. That she knew very well. If he wanted her gone, so be it. Let him stay in this crumbling palazzo. Let him run his little missions. She did not need to subject herself to his manipulations after tonight. Until then, she would enjoy herself.
Lottie held out her gloved hand. It no longer trembled. “Thank you, but I believe I’ll be going out.”
Alec studied her for a tense moment. His brows pulled together in a slight frown, but he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “You will let me know the minute you feel unwell.”
“Yes, but duty comes first, Professor Gresham. Always.”
Alec drew her arm into the crook of his elbow and stared straight ahead as he led her toward the door. “As if I could ever forget.”