Page 60 of The Vagabond Viscount
Flynn nodded. “I walked over the bridge in the morning, along with hundreds of other pilgrims. Considering that I had long scraggy hair until late yesterday, and wore my old coat, I would say there is a very good chance that it was me. You can understand why I was so pleased when Gideon gave me his spare coat. He is also arranging to have some new clothes made for me at the tailors. So I look respectable. Presentable to polite society.”
His words stuck fast in her mind. “Is that why you didn’t wait for me to come back to the shop yesterday? You were afraid of how you looked?”
When Flynn wouldn’t meet her eyes, Augusta set her fork down. “Oh, my love. I don’t care what you look like—I care that you are alive. You could come back dressed in rags, and it wouldn’t matter.”
“Forgive me,” he whispered.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Flynn. You never have.”
* * *
As long as he lived, Flynn would never forget the look on the tailor’s face when he arrived at the shop late that afternoon and asked to have a new suit, and some shirts made. The man had been ready to show him the door, but the sight of the handful of coins which Gideon had given Flynn, along with him mentioning the Marquis of Holwell by name, quickly had the tailor having a change of heart.
Tonight, Flynn was wearing one of Gideon’s old shirts, which considering the size difference between them, meant it hung loosely off every part of his torso apart from his shoulders. But he didn’t mind. The shirt was clean and had no holes or tears in it. For the first time in a very long time, he almost looked respectable. He was still a mere shadow of his former self, but today he had enjoyed the simple pleasure of being out on the streets of Rome and not having people stare or whisper as he passed them by.
Gratitude was the one gift he did value from the past year. Flynn was grateful for every small blessing. Every new day was one more than he had expected to live after the nightmare of his voyage to Italy.
And now he was seated in his favorite café enjoying a late-night supper with the woman he loved.
Late night? It’s well past midnight.
He cleared his throat and chose his words carefully. If he knew anything about Augusta, it was that she hated being treated like a child. Or worse, a young woman in need of constant protection. “Who knows you are here? I mean, did you tell Serafina you were coming to see me?”
She wouldn’t have told Gideon because her brother would not have permitted her to come alone. Then again, his friend must have given her the address of the chapel, so they may have come to some sort of understanding. Perhaps he had walked her over here and left her at the bottom of the steps leading up to the chapel.
“I pilfered your note from Gideon’s room when he was with you and Serafina’s brother, Matteo, at the fencing academy this morning. Actually yesterday morning, since it must be tomorrow by now. I left the palace after we returned from the supper at Signore Magri’s house. He is the man Serafina is supposed to be marrying.”
The heated contempt which dripped from Augusta’s lips as she said the name of the man her friend was going to wed informed Flynn as to what she thought of the impending nuptials.
She leaned closer, and Flynn followed suit.
“If you can get Gideon to stop being all noble and actually go and fight for her, Serafina might well be coming back to England with us. But in answer to your previous question, I slipped out of the palace unnoticed.”
“Gideon wouldn’t be happy to know what you have done. Or that you are here unaccompanied.”
Augusta shrugged. “I’ve been in Rome since last year—there are a good many things I have done which he would be unhappy to hear about. Not that I intend to tell him.”
He caught the familiar glint of defiance in her eyes. It should have made him angry to know she had taken such a risk in sneaking out of the palace to come and find him. He couldn’t find it in himself. “You are a willful young woman, Lady Augusta Kembal. I should put you over my knee and spank you. But I have a feeling you might like it.”
When she blinked slowly and murmured, “I love you,” a jolt of lust shot through him.
I have missed you. Missed our secret rendezvous. Missed my lips on your naked skin.
After picking up his cup of black coffee, Flynn took a long, considered sip. His imagination was playing out a naked, naughty moment where a heated, needy Augusta was laid out before him, begging him to take her in hand.
“I love you too,” he said, clearing his throat. “Now, what about Serafina and Gideon?”
He remembered Matteo de Luca’s sister Serafina from her stay at Mowbray House in September of the year before he disappeared. She was a stunning beauty, one whom he suspected had quickly stolen his friend Gideon’s heart. But Gideon being Gideon likely hadn’t realized the truth until it was too late. The marquis might be an intelligent person, but when it came to women, he could be a touch blind.
But time could change a man. Flynn knew that truth only too well. He had become someone over the past year he never thought he would be. Liar. Thief.
“As I recall, when Serafina stayed at your home, Gideon was worried that you and Victoria were busy playing matchmaker. What tells you that he has changed his mind about her?”
A knowing smile spread across Augusta’s lips. “The evidence of my own eyes. On Monday morning, when we went to visit the Colosseum, I saw my brother kissing Serafina. And just a short while ago, he was busy penning a note to her to meet him at daybreak so they can spend the day together in the city.”
Gosh. He really is serious about her. About bloody time.
“Won’t her family have something to say about Gideon trying to marry their daughter? I mean, this arranged union must come with powerful favors for Serafina’s father. Or money at least.”
