Page 64 of Tempted By the English Marquis
Flynn nodded. “I wasn’t exactly granted the opportunity to organize a farewell party when I left town, circumstances as they were.” He sighed. “But please let’s not talk about that tonight.”
Gideon wanted to hear all of Flynn’s sorry tale, but only when his friend was ready to share. Just seeing the viscount alive was enough for the moment.
“Of course, but just allow me to say once more that I am overjoyed to see you alive. You gave us all a terrible fright when you disappeared. There was a good deal of tears shed over you.”
He pretended not to see the tears which shone in Flynn’s eyes, or the roughness in his voice when the viscount finally spoke. “Could I offer you a coffee? I don’t have the coin for any wine or tea.”
Gideon took in the small, sparsely decorated meeting hall. The walls were unadorned, and the windows were covered with plain cheap cloth. Whoever owned this space had spent little money on it.
“It’s probably a little late for coffee. Do you know of any places around here where we could get a glass of wine? My treat,” replied Gideon.
Flynn finally cracked a smile. “There is a small restaurant nearby which is open late. It serves supper for the worshippers at Santa Maria di Loreto. That’s the big church with the dome which you would have passed on your way here.”
“Food and wine it is, and yes, I did see the church, but I was too busy looking for this place to pay it much notice. I am beginning to suspect that people navigate their way around Rome by where the churches are located. There are so many of them.”
“At last count there was over eight hundred churches in the city. Wait here and I shall go and fetch my coat.” His friend quickly crossed the narrow room and ducked behind a curtain. Flynn returned carrying the same distressed woolen great coat he had been wearing earlier that day.
As they left the chapel, Flynn locked the door behind them. After dropping the key into his pocket, he checked the door once more. “Can’t be too careful. I don’t have much, so I cannot afford to have any light-fingered visitors help themselves to my meagre possessions.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but do you live here?” asked Gideon.
“Yes. Not long after I arrived in Rome, one of the members of the All-Saints’ community found me and offered to let me stay in the backroom in exchange for keeping the place clean and having the chairs set out for Sunday service. I have also taken to liaising with visiting ministers so we can have the occasional full communion.”
Recalling their meeting at the tailor’s shop and the mention of Flynn’s lack of money, it was clear the viscount was living hand-to-mouth. Gideon had to do something to help his friend.
I must give him some money before I leave Rome. It’s not right that he should be forced to live like this just because his father is a devil. But why hasn’t anyone else stumped up some money for Flynn? He is a viscount. His family has money in England.
“Do the people of this church community know who you are?” asked Gideon.
“No. I didn’t want to bring my troubles to their door. They just know me as Flynn, and I am content with that for the time being.”
It was a short stroll down the street to the nearby restaurant. There was a faded sign nailed to the ancient front door. The building was like his friend, tired and tatty. It was very old.
I wonder if Emperor Trajan was a regular customer here.
But while it was a place that Gideon would think twice about visiting on his own, the crowd of customers inside spoke volumes for its popularity. And hopefully its food.
Flynn was greeted with a friendly wave from the owner. In return, he gave a cheery “ciao!”
Patrons at various tables called out to him. Someone said something, and Flynn laughed. He turned to Gideon. “I do eat here a bit; they treat me like family.”
They found a table toward the back of the café and took a seat. Coffee and two bowls of fresh pasta were set before them. Looking around, Gideon noticed the lack of menus. People were all eating the same meal. No one seemed to mind.
“The owner’s wife has a limited repertoire of dishes. Today is still Monday, so it’s aglio e olio. Spaghetti with olive oil and slivers of red pepper, with some parmigiana cheese tossed through it. Simple but very tasty.”
“And cheap?” offered Gideon.
Flynn met his gaze. “Yes. As you can probably guess, money is not something I have in abundance. I will confess to having stayed to help wash dishes in order to pay for my meal on more than one occasion.”
His friend was a viscount, heir to an earldom—how had things gotten so bad that he was living as a pauper in Rome? Gideon sipped his coffee. He didn’t want the drink, but he didn’t wish to appear rude. He also wanted to give Flynn some time to decide what he was going to tell his unexpected visitor from home of how he had come to find himself living in poverty all this way from England.
There was a long stretch of silence before Flynn finally spoke. “I know you would like to hear my tale of woe. And how I came to be here. But I would much rather ask a favor. For old times’ sake. How is Augusta? I mean, how has she been over the past year?”
Gideon carefully considered Flynn’s question, and while it confirmed his suspicions, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. The connection between his friend and Augusta had been a secret one.
“Augusta has been through a lot. This trip to Rome was meant to help her.”
What else can I say when I don’t know what it is between the two of you?
