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The question was on the tip of his tongue, yet he could never ask such a thing. He might have enjoyed her confidence once, but that had been a very long time ago.
“I assure you, she was in great distress,” he growled instead. “But she has no wish for word of your little jaunt to spread, so she made up an excuse to explain your sudden disappearance from the pension.”
She cut a glance at him, genuinely curious. “Did she? What was it?”
“That you went to Rome to meet some school friends, where she would shortly join you.”
It was a decent enough lie, though Mrs. Wetherby had already been cracking under the pressure when Alec met her in Florence. The woman was exceptionally incompetent, but at least that toad Wetherby had guaranteed his aunt’s discretion.
“Huh. I hadn’t realized she was capable of such a deception. Was it accepted by the other guests? There was a trio of spinster sisters staying there who seemed to live exclusively on bits of gossip.”
Alec gritted his teeth. He was unfortunately familiar with the women she spoke of. “Barely. Mrs. Wetherby had to leave the pension the day I arrived to keep up appearances. But it will all be for nothing if you don’t return to England very soon.”
She lifted her chin. That mulish look was another thing he had forgotten. “I won’t be going anywhere. And certainly not withyou.”
“If you don’t come with me now, your uncle will only send someone else later,” he countered grimly. “And they might not be as considerate of your well-being as I am, especially if they learn the circumstances that preceded your visit.”
No doubt there were scores of men who would be all too happy to escort her back to England. Alec was prepared to drag her kicking and screaming down the hillside for that reason alone. She swallowed hard but made no response. He glanced down and noticed that one hand was balled in a tight fist by her side. Perhaps she wasn’t so composed after all…
“You should also know I didn’t come here merely to save your reputation,” Alec continued, taking pains to soften his tone. “Though that was the initial reason, the situation has grown more urgent. Your uncle suffered some kind of apoplexy a few days ago. Mr. Wetherby sent a telegram while I was still in Florence.” Alec had never met Wetherby in person. All communication between them was strictly limited to telegrams and letters, yet that hadn’t stopped him from concluding that the man was a complete ass. “He indicated that it was fairly mild, as far as these things go, but there is the danger your uncle could have another.”
It was difficult to imagine Sir Alfred, who always exuded power and control, suffering from any kind of impairment, but age spared no one. Lottie’s frown deepened and she looked out across the landscape. Once Alec had been able to read her so easily, but she had no reason to hide anything from him then. Now he could only guess at the conflicting emotions warring inside her at the news. As his guardian and her uncle, Sir Alfred had, for lack of a better word, raised them both. But Alec’s relationship with the enigmatic man wasn’t nearly as complicated as Lottie’s was. And, given the circumstances, one could assume that things hadn’t exactly improved over the years. “If he does, he may die.”
Lottie did not respond. At this angle, without those eyes hinting at the steel underneath, she could be the very picture of fresh, English innocence. Her slight curves had grown more pronounced over the years, but her peaches-and-cream complexion was still as smooth as polished marble with a faint dusting of those freckles he had always adored. The last time he saw her, Lottie had been trussed up in yards of white taffeta for a ball held in her honor. She had looked lovely then, but he much preferred her like this. In her sensible dark blue skirt and well-loved silk blouse, with wisps of hair coming loose from her braid.
Alec fought back the urge to trail his finger down her cheek. Would she be warm and soft, or cool and hard? He leaned closer and faintly inhaled that familiar rosewater scent now mixed with the sharp tang of the oil paint that stained her fingertips. She had never looked more like herself than she did at this moment. Or maybe it was simply that he had missed her. So very much.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said stiffly as she shifted away from his reach. “And for delivering the news in person, though it seems hardly worth the effort on your part. If I choose to see him, it will be on my own terms. I’m sure you have a long journey back to wherever it is you live now. On your way out, be sure to tell my housekeeper you were mistaken in coming here. You—you must have thought I was someone else.”
There was a slight catch in her voice. A chink in her armor. And Alec wouldn’t let it slip by.
“That might be difficult,” he began, “seeing as I already told her I was your husband.”
Lottie abruptly faced him, her green eyes round and wide. “Youwhat?”
Alec gave her a lopsided smile. “Well, I had to get inside somehow. And I didn’t think she would believe I was your brother.” He gestured to the thick russet braid that snaked down her chest. Lottie’s hair had always been her most prized possession, and for good reason. It was glorious. Here, with those golden Tuscan hills as a backdrop, it gave her the otherworldly glow of a Titian goddess.
“But I told Marta I was a widow!” Lottie hissed and clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, what must shethinknow?”
Alec’s lips quirked. “She seemed rather delighted by your subterfuge, actually. I believe she imagines you came here to punish me.” A corner of her mouth lifted. Apparently that was an appealing idea. “I was properly scolded for not arriving sooner,” he went on. “According to her, you are much too lonely up here all by yourself.”
The housekeeper had also sworn that the only man who had been inside the house was an elderly chap from the village who gave Lottie painting lessons, which blessedly spared him from the ugly task of forcing some wayward suitor’s hand. Mrs. Wetherby was convinced Lottie had run away with a man, though the evidence hadn’t amounted to more than a single dried rose and a pathetic note that readamore mio. Alec had roundly dismissed the notion that such piddling trinkets would have swayed her. But now he was questioning everything.
Though Lottie claimed she had deliberately tried to ruin her reputation, that might not have been her original plan. She could have been abandoned en route, or perhaps her suitor had failed to materialize at the agreed-upon meeting place. It was understandable why she would not admit such a thing to Alec. Less understandable, though, was why she hadn’t returned to Florence immediately.
Unless she is still hoping for his return.
“Marta doesn’t know anything,” she snapped. “We can barely understand one another.”
“Loneliness is a universal language, Lottie,” he murmured. One he had mastered long ago. “And it’s better for you this way. If she thinks we’re married, there won’t be any talk when we leave the village together.”
She snorted at his caution. “That wouldn’t matter.”
Alec narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t exactly in Timbuktu. Tourists come to this village. If people connect your actions in Florence with your stay here, it will make things worse for you. Itmatters.”
“Only if I cared about my reputation.”
Alec’s jaw tensed. Fresh heartbreak could certainly make a person act with such recklessness. It was difficult to see anything beyond the scorching pain that burned as hotly as any fire. But what would she do weeks, months, or even years later when the pain finally faded and she was left with nothing but the charred remains of her life?
