Page 56 of Tempted By the English Marquis
Gideon swallowed a lump of emotion. This was how things had always been with his parents. The duchess choosing her husband’s clothes, making sure that he was one of the best dressed men in all of London.
Now Serafina had done the same for him. She had taken him to one of the best tailors in Rome and even dictated the color of his new suits. From his trousers to his jackets to the linen shirts which sat against his bare skin, everything on his body would have been chosen by this noble daughter of Rome. He vowed he would wear every one of those garments until they were threadbare and beyond repair.
Whether she realized it or not, this morning Serafina had given Gideon a priceless gift. In the tailor’s shop, she had acted in a way he had only ever dreamt she might. She had behaved like his wife.
ChapterThirty
Serafina’s heart was still racing as she stepped out into the street. She and Gideon had stood so close to one another in the tailors. Their fingers had brushed as she’d handed him the swatch of red paisley silk. The heat from that fleeting touch had seared into her skin.
She had thought that her attraction to the English lord might have waned over the past year or so, but the desire which coursed through her veins told a different story. Her hunger for him was as strong as ever. And that kiss...
Foolish girl. You shouldn’t have done that—been so close to him. Especially not in public. This is dangerous.
Her guards were not just there to protect her from pickpockets or possible abduction; they also served as the ears and eyes of her father. An innocent exchange between her and Gideon could well be interpreted another way by Enzo de Luca.
I had better tread more carefully.
The last thing she needed was for her father to speed up the wedding preparations. Serafina wanted to savor every day between now and the time when she was due to meet her sad marital fate.
Augusta linked her arm with Serafina’s, giving her a hopeful smile. It was the first time all morning that her friend had displayed any sign of happiness.
“I am under firm instructions not to meddle, but I have to say, that was a touching and rather sweet moment,” said Augusta.
Fear gripped Serafina and she shivered. That hadn’t been sweet; it had been reckless. If her father thought she was doing anything that could possibly jeopardize his plans she would be firmly brought to heel.
“Don’t be silly, G. I was just helping your brother to get some new garments made. Lord Holwell is a guest in my uncle’s house. It behooves me to offer any assistance where it’s required. The marquis doesn’t speak Italian, so I was simply helping him to shop. Nothing more.”
Being a dutiful daughter meant making wise choices. Serafina not only had to play the part of an obedient daughter, but she also had to convince the world that she would never do anything to undermine her parent’s political ambitions.
Carrying a secret flame for an English lord whose touch set her blood on fire would be seen by her father as the ultimate betrayal.
* * *
Gideon stifled a laugh at the near constant tutting of the tailor and his staff. He might not be able to understand anything that was being said, but it was clear that they didn’t hold a high opinion of British tailoring. Gideon would dearly love to be able to explain to the men that his clothes didn’t always hang like rags on him, but even he had to grin at the giggles and snorts that came from the back of the room.
Enjoy the moment, gentlemen. As long as I get well cut suits, I am more than happy to be the source of your amusement.
He was standing with his arms held out at the sides, patiently waiting while the tailor measured his torso, when the door of the shop opened. Over the top of the piles of woolen fabrics, Gideon caught a glimpse of a mop of dark brown hair.
Thank heavens it’s not the girls.
His jacket and waistcoat had been removed, and he was in a state of what could only be considered as partial undress. Not the sort of condition suitable for a lady’s refined gaze.
The other customer moved slowly around the shop. Oddly, no one rushed to serve him. When Gideon glanced at the tailor, the man shook his head and muttered,“Non ha soldi.”
Gideon’s scowl of incomprehension was met with a“nessuna monete.”
I wish I had my phrasebook at hand.
His Italian guide was in his coat pocket, which was buried under the rest of his clothes.
“What our friendly tailor is trying to tell you is that I have no money. That is why all his employees are making such a polite effort to ignore me. The last time I came here they didn’t have any customers, so they didn’t even bother being polite, they just ushered me out the door.”
Gideon’s gaze fell on the owner of the perfect English accent, and he did a quick doubletake. Standing before him was Viscount Flynn Cadnam.
His old school friend Viscount Cadnam. His partner in crime for all sorts of mischief in his younger days, Viscount Cadnam. The suspected-to-have-met-foul-play-and-be-dead Viscount Cadnam.
ThatViscount Cadnam.
