Chapter 1
Rome, Italy – Summer, 1890
The first thing Lord Thomas McGovern, Earl of Landry, did when he stepped out of the Roma Termini train station and into the noisy, bustling city was get lost. The sun was already beginning to set over the mish-mash of ancient and modern buildings, casting orange and coral light over streets that had been there since antiquity. The echo of a dozen Italian dialects surrounded Thomas as he gripped his suitcase tightly in one hand, studied the slip of paper where Lord Beverly had written the address of the hotel where he would be staying in his other hand, and pushed forward.
“Ehi, signore! Ho un centesimo?” a ragged child with a dirty face and a bright smile shouted at Thomas as he reached the corner and glanced around for street signs.
Self-consciousness rushed through Thomas. He’d been in Italy with his family for weeks now, and still, he barely understood a word of Italian. But there was no mistaking the way the waif and half a dozen of his friends suddenly rushed toward him, their hands held out.
“No,” Thomas said, inching away from the boys. “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything.”
That wasn’t technically true. As the second son of the late Duke of Addlebury and the younger brother of the current duke, he had quite a bit. More than the simple but elegant suit he wore let on. He was an earl in his own right, with two estates in England to provide income. But money, like respect, was one of those things that had always slipped through Thomas’s fingers the moment he had any of it.
Which was why Lord Beverly was a fool for entrusting him with a mission as important as locating his brother, Asher McGovern, and rescuing him from the criminals who had taken him hostage just days ago in Venice. Lord Beverly had stayed behind in Venice for a few days, supposedly to organize the rest of the vast and unruly McGovern clan, but in truth, all that activity was a smokescreen to the true rescue efforts, which were Thomas’s responsibility.
“Prego signore! Attendere prego!” the boys called after Thomas as he crossed the street and continued on his way. They kept their hands out and trailed him like he was their last chance for a meal before they would expire—which was blatantly untrue, considering how pink and healthy most of them looked.
Thomas did his best to ignore them, but he could understand the desperation they must have felt. During the train ride from Venice to Rome, all he could think about was how mad Lord Beverly was to entrust him with such a vital mission. He’d never been to Rome before, and without speaking the language, he would have as much luck looking for Asher as the urchins trailing him were having begging for a few coins. The way the boys hounded him had Thomas wondering if he would end up going to the address the dark lady had left for them all at the masquerade ball in Venice to hound whoever lived there for his brother’s release.
He paused at another street corner, searching once again for street signs that would point him to his hotel. Or the address where they were supposed to meet the dark lady to give her the ransom that had been demanded for Asher’s safe return. The preset time for that hand-off was only a few days away, and while Thomas didn’t believe any more than Lord Beverly did that the dark lady and the man she was working for—a mysterious man called The Jackal—would actually hand Asher over, chances were at least some of The Jackal’s agents would be at the hand-off spot at the appointed time. Thomas’s mission was to rescue Asher before that time, though.
He puffed out a breath and turned in a circle, still no idea where he was.
“Mi scusi, signore, posso avere un soldo?” a particularly pathetic little boy from the pack asked Thomas, tugging at his shirtsleeve as he did. The lad’s eyes were as big as saucers, which went straight to Thomas’s heart.
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 a bit 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 a columbine was a type of 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 retrieved his wallet from his jacket.
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.”