I must confess, I was expecting this evening to be a bore. So I begged the signore to invite at least one terribly handsome man.” The enigmatic Madame Noir leaned in a little closer, enveloping Alec in a thick cloud of expensive amber perfume. “I’ll have to thank him later,” she murmured while holding his gaze.
Alec forced a smile. “I didn’t realize I was filling an order, Madame.”
“And I didn’t realize history professors could look like you. Thank goodness I was educated by nuns, or I never would have learned a thing!”
The Frenchwoman let out a full, throaty laugh and briefly touched his wrist. She must have been beautiful once, and the years had still been kind. She could be mistaken for much younger, in the right light. But she carried herself with an innate confidence that came only from age—and experience.
Under different circumstances Alec would have enjoyed her company. Tonight, however, it was torturous.
All he wanted was to be back in his flat with Lottie. They didn’t have to touch, or even speak. It was enough to sit in companionable silence and watch as she took in her first Venetian sunset.
And far more than a coward like him deserved.
It was unnerving how well she still knew him after all these years. Alec had forgotten what it meant to be truly understood by another person, as well as the heart-stopping pain that came from disappointing them. Lottie was clearly hurt by his managing behavior, but she would see the wisdom in their separation soon enough and be grateful he had taken such measures. Tomorrow afternoon she would board a train bound for London with her reputation still intact and a limitless future to look forward to. His only regret was that he hadn’t been the one to tell her his intentions, and so he accepted her punishing silence.
As soon as they arrived at Signore Cardinelli’s palatial home they had been whisked out onto the terrace for drinks. Lottie ignored his offer to fetch her something and walked away. The Etruscan collector, if there had ever been one, never appeared, but Madame Noir had sidled up to him once he was alone. Apparently she had a preference when it came to gentlemen, and he fit the bill perfectly. No doubt she would be open to any suggestion he made; they could slip upstairs where he could draw a promise from her any number of ways. It would be the work of only a few minutes. And yet he couldn’t make himself do it.
The dinner gong sounded, and guests began to move toward the dining room. There must have been thirty or so people in attendance. Far more than Alec had assumed. It made monopolizing Madame Noir much easier, but he kept losing track of Lottie. Alec cast a subtle glance over the well-dressed crowd—a mixture of lesser European nobility, distinguished locals, and wealthy foreigners from around the world—but there was no sign of her cinnamon tresses.
“I believe your wife is with Mr. Drakos.” There was a distinct edge to Madame Noir’s voice.
So much for subtlety.
Alec turned to her with a rueful smile. “She’s not my wife.” He couldn’t lose Lottie and botch this assignment.
“Oh?” Madame Noir maintained her bored tone, but Alec hadn’t missed the slight rise of her dark brows.
He placed a hand over his heart. “Dear Miss Gresham is my cousin. The youngest daughter of my late mother’s favorite sister. This is her first time in Venice and her chaperone has fallen ill, so I offered to act as her escort this evening.”
Madame Noir’s brown eyes slowly warmed as he spoke. Not even she was immune to a man so devoted to family.
She flashed her enigmatic smile once again. “Oh, how very sweet of you to watch over her. I wish I had such a thoughtful cousin protecting me when I was her age. He might have saved me from my first husband,” she added with another laugh and fluttered her fan. Then Madame Noir quickly scanned the terrace. “There she is.” She nodded toward the far end of the crowd. “See? She is talking with Mr. Drakos. I’m told he owns a very successful olive oil company. He even has his own island.”
Alec squinted. He had met the Grecian businessman earlier—late fifties or early sixties, a head shorter than Lottie, and a downright bore. He had wrangled Lottie into what appeared to be a deep conversation. Her head was bent slightly and her delicate brows were pulled together in concentration, but in that exquisite gown she seemed otherworldly. A celestial being brought down to earth. It was as if the goddess Flora was listening politely to an undergardener’s petty lament. Relief swelled inside him, and he turned back to Madame Noir.
She gave him a knowing smile. Her eyes then lingered on Lottie. “A lovely girl, your cousin. Even with that hair.”
Alec bit the inside of his cheek to keep from lashing out. He offered his arm, and Madame Noir eagerly took it while pressing her sizable décolletage against him. He glanced down and managed to flash her a smirk.
Bold lady.
As they shuffled toward the dining room, he kept the conversation light, and she laughed at all his terrible jokes.
Good. She liked him already.
For nearly two centuries the palazzo had belonged to a powerful Venetian banking family, and the dining room was the house’s showpiece—a cavernous space painted a rich, sensuous red that gave way to a brilliant frescoed ceiling that rivaled the Sistine Chapel, while the walls were adorned with priceless art and antiques. It seemed that everywhere one looked, there was something even more magnificent. Alec still lost his breath just a little whenever he entered the room.
Even Madame Noir seemed impressed. “My goodness,” she whispered.
As they paused to take in the room’s many treasures, his gaze tangled with Lottie’s. Mr. Drakos was still talking beside her, but she didn’t appear to be listening this time. She was worryingly pale once again, like she had been in his flat. Alec was a moment away from casting Madame Noir aside and gathering Lottie in his arms when her gaze fell to where the Frenchwoman pressed against his side, her arm wrapped snuggly around his own. Lottie’s mouth tensed, as if she had tasted something bitter.
Something like disgust.
Alec’s neck burned under her inspection. Lottie, who had been born with everything and seemed determined to throw it away, had no right to judge him.
Her eyes snapped back to his, as if she had heard his thoughts, and her stare bore into his from across the room.
Mr. Drakos began pointing to a suit of armor against the far wall, and she reluctantly let him lead her to the other side of the room. Alec inhaled slowly and pushed her from his mind. He had done it exceedingly well for years. Surely he could manage the next few hours.
Alec turned to Madame Noir, who was still taking in their surroundings. “Shall we sit, Madame? I’d love to hear more about your life in Berlin.”
She squeezed his arm with her free hand. “And I would be happy to oblige, Professor.”
His plan to sit as far away from Lottie as possible was derailed at the very last minute, no thanks to a bickering couple from Brussels who cut in front of him without so much as a glance.
Madame Noir leaned closer to him. “One can expect nothing less than utter rudeness from the Flemish,” she whispered then clucked her tongue in disapproval.
The only two remaining seats were directly across from Lottie and Mr. Drakos.
Alec held back his grimace and led Madame Noir to their seats. As they approached, she inhaled sharply and held up her fan. “Do you see the man seated on the other side of your cousin?”
Alec glanced over and gave a subtle nod. A late arrival. Alec would have noticed him on the terrace, as he was the only other man under fifty besides himself, but his attire made sure to loudly announce his presence. He was dressed in a purple velvet evening jacket with a matching striped waistcoat. It was the very height of continental fashion—and made him look ridiculous.
“The Honorable Mr. Morley,” Madame Noir explained. “Highly eligible. I think he is in line for one of your dukedoms,” she added in an awed whisper.
Annoyance prickled through Alec. “Is that so?” The man seemed unbearably obnoxious. Of course he would end up a duke.
She playfully tapped his arm with the tip of her fan. “Don’t try to hide your delight, monsieur. I can see those wheels already turning in your head. There are mamas who would give their right arms to have their own daughters seated next to him at dinner. The poor man spends most of his time abroad to escape them.”
Poor indeed.
Just then, Lottie let out a laugh. Mr. Morley was much too close—why, his lips were practically brushing her ear.
“Oh, it has already begun!” Madame Noir said in delight.
He cut another glance across the table as he pulled out Madame Noir’s chair. Mr. Morley was doing the same for Lottie, and she seemed all too delighted by his chivalry. Despite the man’s highly questionable sartorial choices, Alec had to admit he was handsome. Most women seemed to prefer blond-haired and blue-eyed men. His jaw tensed against the flare of jealousy blistering his insides. But he brushed the ugly feeling aside. If this led to a match, Sir Alfred would nominate him for a medal. And this was exactly what he wanted for her. A duke’s heir could give her everything.
Everything you never could.
Alec turned away and took his seat beside Madame Noir, giving her the most charming smile he could muster. Let Lottie enjoy the man’s company. He had work to do.
At first Lottie had been worried by the prospect of sitting next to an Englishman all evening. What if Mr. Morley recognized her or questioned her false identity? But as it turned out, Mr. Morley lived largely abroad—and had few interests beyond himself. Lottie made sure to smile and nod at all the right places, and by the time dessert was served she had said nothing beyond a few generic platitudes.
“How very interesting,” she responded automatically, as the man prattled on between generous mouthfuls of molded ice cream. She blinked slowly. That waistcoat of his was starting to give her a headache.
When she opened her eyes, Mr. Morley was giving her his full attention. And a rather too interested smile. “I say, I can’t remember the last time I had such a charming dinner companion.”
Lottie held back a snort. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Alec look their way after having easily ignored her for the past hour. She swallowed her irritation and smiled at Mr. Morley. “Why thank you, sir.”
She could never manage this degree of pretense in London. Then again, she had never been motivated by petty jealousy before. Luckily, Mr. Morley didn’t notice her act. The gentleman seemed to miss quite a lot.
“So then, where are you off to next, Miss Gresham? Venice is all well and good if you like swamp water, but you really must go to Florence.”
It was the third time he had asked her that question and the second time he had told her to go to Florence, but she managed to keep smiling. “I’m afraid I’m due back in England. But do tell me what you love about the city.” She turned back to her dessert as the man began to prattle on again.
Was this all it took to do Alec’s job? Tell people what they wanted to hear? Give them what they wanted to see? A smile here, a laugh there. Stroke their egos until they were soft and pliant. Until they let their guards down.
It was rather easy. Disturbingly so.
And yet, in a way it was exciting to be a different version of herself. She might have even enjoyed the exercise if it didn’t include watching Alec flirt with a beautiful, sophisticated Frenchwoman.
Who is old enough to be his mother.
Lottie chastised herself for the uncharitable thought. She would be lucky to look half as alluring as Madame Noir, even now. As if on cue, the woman let out another sultry laugh, and Lottie couldn’t stop from glancing over at them. She had thrown her dark head back and clasped a hand against her enviable décolletage. Alec grinned down at her, as if she was the most charming woman he had ever met.
Lottie’s chest pinched. Was he really that good? Or was it not an act at all?
She couldn’t decide which would be worse.
“Miss Gresham, are you well?” asked a soft voice beside her.
Lottie turned to Mr. Drakos, who gestured to her spoon. It had begun to tremble in her tight grip. “Thank you. Yes, I’m fine,” she murmured and set down her spoon. Lottie gave him a gracious smile as guilt swept through her. She had mostly ignored the kind man all through dinner because he hadn’t suited her purposes, and because one could listen to the finer details of olive harvesting for only so long. An unsettling shiver moved through her. Perhaps this wasn’t so easy.
Lottie glanced up and met Alec’s piercing hazel stare. Madame Noir was busy talking to the man to her right, so it seemed he had found a moment to acknowledge her presence. Lottie cast him a subtle frown. He needed to concentrate on his so-called business, not her. Goodness. What if he took the woman to bed? Surely he would spare her that indignity. Before she could ponder this further, Signore Cardinelli announced that they would all retire to the drawing room for light refreshment and music.
Beside her, Mr. Morley clucked his tongue. “I can’t stand this continental habit of keeping the sexes together. It’s the only time I long for England. Men need a good smoke after a meal. A chance to talk properly.”
Lottie raised an eyebrow but spoke in her sweetest tone. “Why, Mr. Morley, have you not had your fill of proper conversation this evening?”
The odious man had the decency to redden. “There are some topics much too delicate to discuss in front of ladies. Business. Politics. That sort of thing.”
“Well, I can’t speak for every lady, but I’d be happy to discuss politics with you. In fact, I have a number of opinions I’ve wanted to share with someone who possesses the ability to vote in our government.” She then fluttered her eyelashes.
“Hear, hear.” Madame Noir raised her glass from across the table and gave her a wink.
Mr. Morley eyed Lottie warily, as if she had suddenly turned into a live python instead of a woman with opinions. Then he appealed to Mr. Drakos. “I’m sure you agree with me.”
“I believe the ladies should be heard,” the older man said with surprising disapproval. “Otherwise, it makes you Englishmen seem terrified of your own women. Though I suppose you must be. Why else deny them the vote?”
Mr. Morley’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, and Lottie had to smother a laugh into her napkin. Apparently his dilettante ways stopped at the idea of women’s suffrage. She caught Alec’s eye from across the table, but he seemed even less amused than before. Couldn’t he at least give her a smirk? Surely that was allowed between cousins…
Beside her, Mr. Drakos stood and held out his hand. “I would be happy to escort you into the drawing room, Miss Gresham. And we may discuss anything you wish,” he added pointedly.
Lottie smiled and accepted his hand. She had done nothing to deserve such kindness from him. “Thank you, sir.”
As they all stood from the table, Alec once again took Madame Noir’s arm in his. They exchanged a warm smile and the woman had the audacity to reach out and brush the back of a gloved finger to his cheek.
The pinch in Lottie’s chest suddenly burned so sharply, so deeply, that she nearly lost her breath.
“I think you may need some air, Miss Gresham.” Mr. Drakos made the gentle suggestion as they entered the drawing room. “Let us go out onto the balcony.”
“Yes,” she rasped, twisting away from the happy pair. “That sounds perfect.”
He placed a warm hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the open balcony doors just as Madame Noir’s enchanting laugh floated into the room.