Although Mrs Fairclough had looked like a woman who needed a bit of flirting in her life. That was probably what had drawn him to her last winter. That and her lovely green eyes which had called to him. She had seemed burdened then, worried, and he had taken it upon himself to make her feel better. He still had no idea why he had needed to do that. He wasn’t completely heartless, it was true, but he was no Good Samaritan either. Yet her quiet sadness had lured him to her and once he was with her, he had fallen completely under her spell. Then fate had placed them in the same carriage unchaperoned and he had kissed her because…well…he still wasn’t entirely sure how to explain that. Other than it had felt entirely right at the time. She had responded with more passion than her prim, no-nonsense attire had suggested she would. More passion than either of them had expected. Certainly enough to keep her fresh in his mind these past four months. The little oasis of excitement in the barren desert of dissatisfaction he seemed doomed to wallow in.
Lilian had to give herself a stiff talking to before plucking up the courage to go down to dinner, and that was after the stiff talking to she gave Alexandra. Typically, her cousin brushed it aside as an oversight, claiming she hadn’t remembered introducing the Duca to Lilian at Lady Fentree’s party. Without confessing to her they had shared a heated kiss in a carriage all alone, and that kiss now rendered her situation very awkward, to say the least, it was difficult for Lilian to convey exactly how miffed she was about being kept in the dark about the situation.
She was even more miffed at his behaviour earlier, because his shallow, unsubtle flirting had soured a memory which she had stupidly treasured since. In that carriage, she had felt special, interesting and appealing in a way she hadn’t in years. Or so she had thought after three large glasses of wine and some of the worst weeks of her life. His clumsy attempt at seduction on the landing this evening had made her realise he hadn’t thought her particularly special or interesting at all. Merely convenient, needy and pathetically malleable and that galled. Because she had been all of those things that fateful night in that carriage.
But as a guest in his house, she would have to remain polite even if she was annoyed at him for making her feel cheap and convenient. Besides, she would not allow the despicable actions of one overly charming Lothario to spoil her great Italian adventure. Better to face it head on, learn from it and consign it to the past like the foolish mistake it was. At some point this evening, she would talk to him and politely explain it had not been his charm which had led to her kissing him back, but the alcohol and that she had realised it had been a huge mistake from the outset. One she had absolutely no intention of repeating. Then, the air cleared, she would keep herself occupied with Rome and all the delights it offered and avoid her now-distasteful host wherever possible.
Lilian took a deep breath, then sailed into the drawing room, or salotto as Alexandra had called it when they had arrived, with what she hoped resembled more confidence than she was feeling. Carlotta rushed towards her smiling, so she was able to ignore the arrogant Duke leaning against the fireplace directly across from the door. Or at least her eyes could. Her body apparently had a mind of its own. Her skin felt decidedly odd, her nerves a bit bouncy and her stupid pulse a tad too fast.
‘Lilian…you look beautiful. Those colours really suit you.’ She had argued against a dress as bold and as fashionable as this one, assuming the vibrant printed coral stripes on the cream brocade, complete with the sweeping ruffled neckline and short sleeves, was too young for her. It had been Lottie who had convinced her to get it, pointing out that older women than she had worn gowns far bolder at Millie and Cassius’s society wedding celebration—and looked lovely in them. Lilian had relented, but never actually intended wearing it, but for some reason tonight she had needed to feel bold and lovely, so had donned it on a whim. It was too late to regret it now, despite the rakish Duca’s obvious expression of appreciation as he sauntered towards her and her recklessly bouncing nerve endings.
‘Indeed she does.’ He bowed politely and kissed her hand. She withdrew it quickly in case he had a mind to linger again, but felt her pulse quicken anyway. The accent, combined with his undeniably rugged, handsome features, sublime spicy smell and impressive height called to the passionate female within her despite all her common sense. ‘Welcome to my home, Mrs Fairclough. My sister tells me you have had no time at all today to explore the palazzo. I should be delighted to take you on a little tour of the ground floor now.’
Seeing her hesitation, Carlotta got the wrong end of the stick. ‘You might as well. Dinner is not for another thirty minutes at least and I am still awaiting Alexandra. Be sure to show her the fresco in the gran salone, Pietro. Lilian is a huge lover of art. Something you both have in common, no?’ Or perhaps she had completely the right end of the stick and was matchmaking as Pietro had suspected. Yet either way, she had been pushed into a corner. Refusing would be impolite and would cast an atmosphere over the entire holiday.
He offered his arm and she took it, pasting what she hoped was a polite and indifferent smile on her face. At least this unwelcome time alone with him would give her the opportunity to clarify his misapprehensions about their kiss and her presence in his house. She might well be at a metaphorical crossroads, but not one of the paths ahead of her included a man!
He led her out of the cosy family room and along a long hallway filled with gilt panelling and a marble floor. As soon as they turned a corner he stopped dead and sighed.
‘I cannot move another step until I have apologised for my disgraceful behaviour earlier. I have no defence of it, other than you caught me off guard after a taxing day and I wrongly assumed that you were complicit in my sister’s incessant matchmaking. I realise that is no excuse for my ungentlemanly behaviour and I apologise unreservedly for insulting you. It was not my finest hour and I was certainly not behaving as myself. I beg of you to forgive me.’
Entirely disarmed, because he had completely taken the outraged wind out of her sails, all Lilian could do was accept his pretty apology in the manner it was given. ‘You are forgiven. Because I also suspect Alexandra had a hand in it. She likes to meddle, too, and seems to have made me a bit of a project, as you can see.’ She gestured to the bold gown and then regretted it when his eyes swept her body again at the invitation. There was something about the way he did it which played havoc with her insides. ‘I really had no clue there was any connection between you and the Contessa until tonight.’
‘I realised that the moment you rightly slammed your door in my face at my gross impertinence.’ His voice was like melted chocolate and his accent made normally curt English words like ‘impertinence’ sound positively sinful. Or at least the goose pimples on the back of her neck found it sinful. And the least said about his intense dark eyes the better. The way they looked at her, boldly locked with hers… Gracious, he was lovely! And she had plainly taken leave of her senses to be thinking such nonsense after just one pretty apology and a foolhardy kiss in a carriage.
‘It would appear we are equally reluctant to be toyed with, both the innocent victims of two scheming women. I am only relieved we discovered their machinations in time before it created any irreversible awkwardness between us. I would hate to be the reason you did not enjoy your visit to Rome.’
‘Forewarned is forearmed, as we say in my country. I am glad we cleared the air.’ However, there was no point in shying away from the difficult bit of the conversation. The bit which would thoroughly clear the air. ‘I feel I also owe you an apology for what occurred at Christmas.’ She hoped ignoring the blush which threatened to bloom might make it subside, but the ugly heat crept up her neck regardless. ‘December was a particularly trying time for me and, fortified with more wine than I am used to, I might have given you the wrong impression. What I mean is…er…the…er…kiss…was a mistake.’
‘And