by Merry Farmer
Something about the lad gave Thomas an idea. “Do you know where the Garibaldi Hotel is?” he asked the lad.
The boy’s eyes lit up. “Sì, so dov'è! Come! Come!”
Thomas was surprised that the lad knew at least one word of English. He grabbed Thomas’s sleeve and wouldn’t let go as they started down the busy thoroughfare near the train station. The other boys called after the lad, as if he had won some contest. The boy laughed merrily and turned to stick his tongue out at the others.
The whole thing would have been a delightful show, if Thomas hadn’t felt utterly incompetent as a boy who couldn’t have been more than eight led him through the winding streets of Rome to the grand Garibaldi Hotel. He couldn’t even find his way to a hotel without help. How was he supposed to locate and rescue Asher? Only days ago, Thomas had learned that his brother was more than just the new Duke of Addlebury, he was a spy in Her Majesty’s Secret Service. According to the little Lord Beverly had told Thomas and his cousin, Lord Trent McGovern, Asher was part of a mission to keep a band of criminals from robbing a newly-discovered archeology site in Egypt that was reportedly a treasure trove just waiting to be uncovered. Not only would the antiquities there be worth a fortune, the site was important for maintaining healthy relations between the crown and the government of Egypt. It all seemed abstract to Thomas—except the idea of ancient treasures—but it didn’t matter what he thought, now that Asher was The Jackal’s prisoner.
The most confusing aspect of the mission Lord Beverly had given him was to locate a fellow agent of the crown in Rome—someone Lord Beverly had called the English Columbine. Thomas didn’t have the first clue what that meant. All he knew was that columbine was a flower. Was he supposed to be looking for an Englishman wearing a sprig of columbine in his lapel?
He was relieved when the urchin led him around a corner and the grand site of the Garibaldi Hotel loomed before him, splashed with the light of the setting sun.
“Thank God,” he sighed, picking up his pace. “Thank you,” he told the lad, who didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving him. At least, not until they reached the hotel’s door and Thomas reached into his jacket to take out his wallet.
The lad’s eyes went wide as Thomas pulled out a bill. He had no idea what denomination the bill was, but considering how lost he had been, the boy deserved every penny of it. “Grazie, signore!” the boy gasped, clutching the bill to his chest. He turned and bolted down the street as if Thomas would realize he’d overpaid and demand his money back.
The hotel’s doorman laughed and shook his head as he opened the door, but Thomas didn’t care. At last, he knew where he was, and with any luck, he could figure out all of the disjointed pieces of his mission and rescue Asher before it was too late.
“Reservation for McGovern,” he told the concierge at the hotel’s front desk with a sigh. Perhaps, before he rushed off into the city playing spy, he could get a bath and a good night’s rest.
“Ah, yes. Lord Landry,” the concierge said with a smile. “We’ve been expecting you.” He nodded, then stepped away, into a back room.
The hair on the back of Thomas’s neck stood up. The concierge knew exactly who he was, even though Lord Beverly said he’d put the reservation under “Thomas McGovern”. That could only mean that the man was in on whatever mystery Asher had been sucked into. Thomas couldn’t decide if that was a good thing.
When the concierge returned from the back room, he presented Thomas with a key and a sealed letter. “I trust you will enjoy your stay with us,” he said. “If there’s anything you need, please let us know.”
Thomas nodded distractedly to the man, turning the envelope over with a frown. It had no markings other than the initials “TM” printed in the upper left-hand corner. Curiosity got the better of him, and he set the room key on the desk, then opened the letter. He leaned against the desk as he took the contents out and read it.
“Thomas,” the letter began. “If you are reading this, I trust you have made it safely to Rome. There is no need to tell you that time is of the essence. Below is a list of known hideouts for The Jackal’s gang. While we cannot know if your brother is being held at any of them, investigating each one is the best place to start.”
Thomas glanced down the page to a list of six addresses. His heart sank. If he couldn’t even find his way to the hotel from the train station, how was he supposed to investigate six random locations in Rome?
He read on. “Your ally in Rome will contact you soon and provide you with an alibi to be in the city. I trust you will be able to play your part expertly.”
That was it. Other than the initials “MC”—which Thomas was reasonably certain stood for “Matthew Clarence”, Lord Beverly’s given name, the letter said nothing else. Thomas read it a second time, then folded it with an irritated sigh and stuffed it back in its envelope. Lord Beverly probably thought he was being helpful, but Thomas had no more of a clue what he was doing than he had when he stepped off the train.
“You look like a gentleman who could use a word or two of comfort.”
Thomas jerked his head up at the soft, seductive voice. He blinked as his eyes met those of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She had a perfectly oval face, flawless skin, and thick, sable hair. She stared up at him with unflinching, blue eyes that danced with mischief. That look shot straight to his heart, and lower.
“Hello,” he said standing straighter—though given the reaction of his cock, that might not have been the wisest thing to do. He could only assume that the woman was a professional who made her way greeting exhausted men as they arrived at the hotel.
But no, she was dressed to fashionably to be a prostitute. There was too much life and health in her eyes. And a place like the Garibaldi Hotel certainly wouldn’t let a working woman loiter in their lobby.
“I’m sorry,” he said, blinking fast and trying to recover from the obvious interest he’d thrown her way. Whoever she was, she didn’t deserve a randy traveler ogling her. “Have we met?” It was a poor excuse for a conversation starter, but it would give a decent woman the out she needed to excuse approaching a strange man in a hotel lobby.
“No,” she laughed, looking even more fetching, if that were possible. “It’s just that I overheard you speaking English to the concierge. And while Englishmen are a dime a dozen in Italy these days, I always make a point of introducing myself to my fellow countrymen, especially when they seem as lost as you do.”
Only then did Thomas realize the woman was English. He must have been tired if he was letting details like that slip past him. “Please forgive me,” he said, offering his hand. “Thomas McGovern, Lord Landry, at your service.”
“Oh?” The woman’s face lit up with amusement. “A lord. How delightful.” Her smile grew, doing wicked things to Thomas’s insides. “Miss Violetta Roan,” she said, shaking his hand.
“Miss Roan.” Thomas nodded respectfully to her, even though his thoughts were as far from respectful as could be. Especially when his gaze dropped to her ample and expertly displayed breasts. The woman might not have been a prostitute, but she was aware of herself in the most tempting possible way. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise, Lord Landry.” She let his hand go, but continued to stand close, grinning up at him with her dazzling eyes. “What brings you to Rome, my lord?”
“I—” Thomas scrambled for an explanation. Lord Beverly’s letter hinted that his ally in Rome—whoever the hell that was—would provide him with an alibi. That ally needed to make himself known as quickly as possible. He was terrible at subterfuge. “Sight-seeing,” he blurted at last, feeling his face go red-hot.
“How fun,” she said, looking genuinely pleased. “You must see all of the standard sites, of course. The ruins of Rome are truly awe-inspiring, even though some of them need quite a bit of care to be restored to their former glory. If you find yourself in need of a companion to see the sites, I would be happy to show you aroun
d.”
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About the Author
I hope you have enjoyed Venetian Sunshine. If you’d like to be the first to learn about when new books in the series come out and more, please sign up for my newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/cbaVMH And remember, Read it, Review it, Share it! For a complete list of works by Merry Farmer with links, please visit http://wp.me/P5ttjb-14F.
Merry Farmer is an award-winning novelist who lives in suburban Philadelphia with her cats, Torpedo, her grumpy old man, and Justine, her hyperactive new baby. She has been writing since she was ten years old and realized one day that she didn't have to wait for the teacher to assign a creative writing project to write something. It was the best day of her life. She then went on to earn not one but two degrees in History so that she would always have something to write about. Her books have reached the Top 100 at Amazon, iBooks, and Barnes & Noble, and have been named finalists in the prestigious RONE and Rom Com Reader’s Crown awards.
Acknowledgments
I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my awesome beta-readers, Caroline Lee and Jolene Stewart, for their suggestions and advice. And double thanks to Julie Tague, for being a truly excellent editor and assistant!
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