Page 65 of Tempted By the English Marquis
Flynn motioned toward Gideon’s plate of pasta. “Eat it now before it gets cold. The owner will take offence if you don’t finish your meal.”
Gideon picked up his fork and stabbed at his spaghetti.
Flynn reached across the table and took it from out of his hand then, standing the fork up on the plate, began to twist it around. The spaghetti wrapped into a neat ball, after which Flynn handed Gideon back his cutlery. “Please don’t embarrass me in front of the few people I know in Rome.”
The pasta found its way to Gideon’s mouth, leaving him to communicate with his friend via his eyebrows. Fortunately, Flynn took the hint.
“Alright, I will go first. Well. In a nutshell. Not in as many words.” He exhaled hard. “My father hates me. You of course already know that, but what you don’t know is that the old bugger would gladly see me dead. If he had his way, the rumors of my demise would be fact.”
Ruddy hell. Poor Flynn.
He’d always known that things between the Earl of Bramshaw and his son had been strained, but he hadn’t thought it was this bad.
“Let’s just say that my leaving England was not of my own free will, but I wasn’t in any sort of condition to protest.”
Gideon finished his mouthful, then attempted to wrangle the spaghetti on his own. He succeeded in getting a few strands onto the fork, then quickly stuffed them into his mouth fearing they would fall back onto the plate. He slowly chewed the food.
“But enough of my villain of a sire, can we please talk about Augusta?” said Flynn.
Gideon set down his fork. “I would rather you didn’t tell me anything. The last thing my sister needs right now is more complications in her life.”
Flynn rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. “I just want Augusta to know I didn’t abandon her. I did do what I said I would, but it didn’t turn out as we hoped. My father had other plans.”
Damn.His suspicions had been right; Augusta and Flynn did have some sort of understanding. Or they once had. What was left after a year of separation Gideon didn’t wish to consider.
But you had a year and a half apart from Serafina, and the minute you saw her again all you wanted to do was to tell her how much you missed her. How you had been a bloody fool to let her go in the first place.
He had to tell Augusta whatever he could about Flynn. As a friend, he owed Flynn that much. As Augusta’s brother and guardian, it was his duty.
“Augusta fainted when I told her you were here in Rome. She wouldn’t tell any of us why, but now I think I understand. Just so you know, I am not here on holiday; I’m here to retrieve Augusta and take her home. My mother is not returning to England. She and my father have separated.”
“Oh Gideon, I am so sorry,” whispered Flynn.
It still felt so unreal to say those words. To give voice to the failure of his parents’ union. Gideon couldn’t ever imagine a time when it would be an easy thing to say. The sorrow ran deep.
As for his sister and Flynn, he didn’t want to add any fuel to whatever fiery pain still burned between them.
“I will tell Augusta that you didn’t abandon her. It is up to my sister to decide how she wishes to respond. But no matter what she says, I promise I will make sure you can secure a ticket back to England. The most important thing is that you come home.”
“Thank you.”
Gideon’s trip to Rome was fast becoming one of collecting lost fledglings and making sure they returned safely to the nest. Something he was more than happy to do.
“Sharing our troubles might not help to solve them, but I am sure a glass or two of wine would help take the edge off.” As Flynn waved to the restaurant owner, Gideon held up his coin purse. “Tell him to keep the food and drink coming.”
ChapterThirty-Four
“Now remember what I told you—I shall do the talking when we are at Signore Magri’s house this morning. You are to listen and observe, nothing else,” said Donna Francesca, pointing a finger in her daughter’s direction.
“Yes, Donna Francesca.” Serafina wasn’t foolish enough to contradict her mother. If the contessa wished to be in charge of their visit, then that was what would happen.
The carriage ride to the home of her future husband in Via Frattina only took a few minutes. They had barely gotten seated before the driver pulled the horses to a halt.
She regularly walked farther than this coming and going through the streets of Rome. But this wasn’t about convenience; it was about making a statement. About showing the members of Rome’s upper echelon that Donna Francesca was about town this morning. The sight of the de Luca coach, with its fancy markings and regal air, would give people something to talk about.
Tongues would be wagging the moment the carriage drew into the grounds of the Magri residence. By the end of the morning, there would be a heated rumor circulating about the city. There could only be one reason Donna Francesca de Luca and her unwed daughter had paid a call at the home of one of Rome’s most influential bachelors. A marriage had been arranged.
After the horses came to a complete stop, the carriage door remained closed. The de Luca servants knew better than to attempt to open it before the contessa had rapped on the glass.
