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He kept his tone neutral. “I would never use it in public.”
“You may not use it in private, either. There is no need for us to be so familiar with one another. No one calls me Lottie anymore, anyway,” she added softly.
Alec gripped his thigh hard under the table. “My humblest apologies for my carelessness. I will address you formally from now on. And refrain from being toofamiliar.”
Lottie gave him an irritatingly beatific smile. “In that case, I will be happy to accompany you to England, Professor.”
Alec failed to suppress the little thrill that shot through him at the title. “I’m afraid you’ll need to pose asMrs.Gresham while we’re traveling. It’s a common enough name, and we certainly won’t be moving in the circles you’re used to, so your reputation should be safe.” Then he gave her a rather caustic smile of his own.
“I told you. I don’t care about my rep—”
Alec held up a hand. “I am thoroughly aware of your feelings on the subject. But I assume you still care about yoursafety. You cannot stay in a room at a damned railway inn by yourself. It’s too dangerous.”
Lottie seemed primed to argue but then she crossed her arms. “Fine.”
“Then we are in complete agreement.” Alec pushed away from the table and stalked off.
When he had received Sir Alfred’s command—for Sir Alfred still neveraskedanything of him—he anticipated some awkwardness with Lottie. She had spent these last years moving among the very cream of society and would not wish to reconnect with an old, forgotten playmate like him.
But nothing could have prepared Alec for the utter contempt she now demonstrated toward her own well-being. She appeared not at all concerned by the prospect of being banished from society forever. The only world she had ever known. And even if she was personally indifferent, did she have no compassion for those who cared for her? Lottie might not have any family apart from her uncle, but she had friends, certainly. If her reputation was destroyed, she would never see any of them again. Couldn’t she see how much she stood to lose? It seemed unimaginable that she would not only willingly leave but set herself on fire in the process. Even for love. Then again, not everyone shared his utter contempt for romance.
Alec had noticed the canvas on the easel when he first stepped onto the terrace. Now seemed a fine time for a closer look.
“Of course,” he muttered after a quick perusal. It was remarkably similar to a small painting Lottie’s mother had done when she came here on her honeymoon. The original was one of Lottie’s most prized possessions and had always occupied a place of honor in her childhood bedroom. After a little while, the artist herself came beside him.
“It’s good. I had no idea you painted.”
“I started a few years ago.”
Long after he had left, then. “I trust you haven’t given up your ciphers.” Lottie always had a head for puzzles and developed several when she was younger. They had often written encrypted letters to each other at their respective boarding schools.
She gave a half-hearted shrug. “I had been helping Uncle Alfred transcribe some.”
“Really?”
“Mr. Wetherby gave them to me now and again. It was all very hushed up, of course. And I never tried to decipher the codes myself. He said my uncle didn’t trust anyone else to do it,” she explained, unable to fully mask the pleasure behind her words. “But it kept me occupied.”
The back of Alec’s neck tingled. Sir Alfred had always adamantly maintained that Lottie couldneverbe involved in his work in any way. The risk was too great. Before he could ruminate on that further, Lottie continued: “I haven’t written my own in ages, though. I didn’t see the point.”
For there was no one to send them to.
She stared at the view with a wistfulness that, for a moment, made her seem years younger. Alec swallowed past the lump of guilt in his throat and turned back to the canvas. “Why not paint the sunset? I’m sure it’s magnificent.”
“It is, but my painting instructor said I had to master daytime first. Now, though…” Her voice trailed off. He would have given anything to touch her again, even a comforting pat on the shoulder, but he doubted she would appreciate the gesture. And Alec was, if nothing else, a man of his word.
“You’ll come back to finish your sunset. I promise.”
Alec disappeared into the cottage soon after, leaving Lottie to stew in her thoughts. Chief among them was the wish for one more bedroom. She sat down at the terrace table and flipped through the Italian pocket dictionary until she reached theMarsection. Lottie dragged her finger down the page and stopped at the entry forMarito: m. Husband. Spouse.
She pressed a hand to her forehead as her face flushed yet again. Her measly conditions had been a desperate bid to gain some control over a situation wildly spinning away from her. She had come here to show Uncle Alfred that he could not manage her anymore, but if her actions had contributed to his illness in any way, she wasn’t sure she could live with herself.
Of course, there was the chance it was all a lie, with Alec acting as an accomplice. But he had agreed to her terms. Hopefully that would be enough time to determine the truth. Then she would either return to England or slip away once again. She idly touched two fingers to her lips, remembering the sensation of his mouth upon hers. Alec kissed exactly like how she’d expected a man used to manipulating people would—with confidence, experience, and just a hint at the end of barely suppressed passion to make it seem genuine.
Lottie knew this. Knew it meant nothing to him. And yet that old, pathetic desire still coursed through every vein.
For goodness’ sake, getaholdof yourself.
She let out a defeated sigh and buried her head in both hands. It had been a mistake to stay in Italy, born of a maudlin girlhood wish to see this village. But she would not let maudlin sentiment guide her any longer. After this she would travel farther east. Perhaps to Palmyra. Not even Alec would think to look for her there. Like painting, her interest in exploration was relatively new. She had many idle hours to fill these last years, and Sir Alfred’s library was well stocked. The memoirs of Lady Hester Stanhope and Isabella Bird had been particularly inspiring. Lottie felt like she had found kindred spirits in these female explorers who had also yearned for lives beyond drawing rooms and dared to make them happen.
