Page 54 of Tempted By the English Marquis
“But . . .” he started.
Augusta shook her head. She wasn’t going to let him get a word in edgeways. “But nothing. I heard what you said, and what it means. I’m not going to do anything that would place either of you in danger. Why do you think I hurried back inside the walkway when I spotted Serafina’s bodyguard coming through here?”
Movement to his left caught Gideon’s attention. Serafina and the two guards were standing watching the exchange. He was out of time. “Just let me deal with this—that’s all I ask.”
“And all I ask in return is that you don’t make the same mistake you clearly made a year and a half ago. If you feel anything for my friend, you have to do something. Because if you do love her, but you stand idly by while she becomes someone else’s wife, I will make sure your life is hell both here in Rome and when we get back to England. I may have lost my chance at happiness, but you can still claim yours.”
He wanted so badly to ask her about her private pain, to try to help. But Augusta wasn’t one for sharing her secrets with Gideon. She never had been.
“If you ever want to confide your troubles in me, I am here,” he offered.
She let out a soft sigh. “Thank you, Gideon, but it’s too late for that now. Just do what you can to save Serafina.”
“I will. I promise.”
If Serafina was due to be officially betrothed within days, he didn’t have time to waste.
Augusta gave a nod, then headed to join her friend.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Going with one’s sister and her friend to buy clothes wasn’t something a gentleman normally did, but Gideon was quickly discovering that nothing about his journey to Rome was normal. As he trailed behind Serafina and Augusta along the Via del Corso, he occasionally glanced back over his shoulder. The armed guards who had glumly fallen in behind the small group as they left the Colosseum were still following them.
Even from where he was, it was clear they were not happy. And if the hard glares that one of them shot his way were any indication, they were holding Gideon to blame.
You are her protectors, not her prison guards. Don’t overstep your role.
When he turned ’round, he bumped into the back of his sister, who had stopped to look in the window of a fabric shop. “Sorry,” he said.
Augusta simply shook her head. “I don’t think the guards particularly like you, brother dearest. I would watch out for yourself. You might find a sword or two in your back. This is Rome and we all know what happened to Julius Caesar when he crossed the wrong people.”
“Actually, we passed the site of Caesar’s assassination on our way here. It’s under the street somewhere, just past Trajan’s Forum. But don’t worry about the guards, Gideon. They won’t kill you; I won’t let them,” said Serafina.
It might just have been Gideon’s imagination, but he was certain that there was a note of possessiveness in the way Serafina phrased that last remark. He liked it.
He liked it a lot.
“Having a guard isn’t quite the same as having a footman, as guards refuse to carry packages,” observed Augusta.
“But they will defend you to the death, so there is that in their favor,” added Serafina.
It had never occurred to Gideon that the streets of the ancient city would be so dangerous. Then again, there were parts of central London that he had never dared to set foot in. The area around the slums and rookeries of St. Giles, for instance.
“The de Luca family is well known in Rome but that doesn’t stop pickpockets and robbers trying their luck. When the Swiss guards who protect the Pope retire from their roles, my mother’s family employs them. I’ve rarely been outside my home without them.”
The guards were a strange thing, but they also gave Gideon a sense of comfort. His father would be pleased to know that Augusta was always well protected.
Via del Corso ran through the center of Rome. The narrow, mile-long street was the home of shops, private residences, and more churches than Gideon had ever seen in the one place. They didn’t call Rome the holy city for nothing.
They moved away from the shopfront and continued a little way farther down the street. It was crowded with pedestrians, and there was barely room for carriages to pass one another by. He could understand why the girls had decided to walk here rather than ride.
Serafina stopped outside a small shop. Above the door was a sign which read.
Confraternita dell’arte dei Giubbonai e Cositori
Before Gideon had the chance to reach for his phrasebook, Serafina turned to him and smiled. “It means the brotherhood of the jacket makers and tailors. It’s a trade guild established in Naples in the fourteenth century. If a man of wealth is to dress properly, he comes to one of these shops. As an English nobleman, we have to make sure you look the part.”
A grinning Augusta dipped into a curtsy. “After you, Lord Holwell.”
