Roman Sunset - Merry Farmer Page 0,2

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 too 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 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 around.”

Thomas’s blood raced to all the most inappropriate places as she looked him up and down. Perhaps she was a professional after all. “Are you holidaying as well?” he asked.

She laughed. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, like treacle being poured over rich ginger cake. “I live here, my lord,” she said, glancing up at him through her lashes as if making carnal suggestions. “I have for quite some time.”

It was everything Thomas could do to stop himself from asking if she’d start showing him around by escorting him up to his room. He’d wasted the better part of his twenties so far inviting ladies far less intriguing to do the same. Miss Roan topped