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.
“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 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 them all in beauty and poise, and he could barely resist slipping back into his old ways.
“Then you would make the very best tour guide I could find.” He inched closer to her, flickering one eyebrow and giving her a frank and appreciative stare. Any woman who was game for a good time would know exactly what he truly wanted from her. He practically held his breath as he waited for her answer to his unspoken question.
She laughed again, warmer and even more alluring than before. “I think we will be good friends, Lord Landry.” She stepped forward to adjust his tie, resting her hands on his lapels for a moment before backing away. “Very good friends indeed.”
Thomas could only stand there and gape at her, his trousers so tight that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk normally, as she turned and sashayed away. She sent him one final look over her shoulder before bursting into the most charming smile he’d ever seen as she swept out the door. Thomas sucked in a breath and grabbed his key from the desk. He needed to get to his room as quickly as possible so that he could relieve the tension she’d sparked in him while imagining how delicious it would be to undress the woman.
He was stopped from running to the nearby elevator by the concierge’s laughter.
“Is something wrong?” Thomas asked.
“Only that Singorina Roan seems to have taken a fancy to you,” the concierge said.
Thomas frowned at the door, then at the concierge. “Do you know her?”
“Know her?” The man laughed harder. “My lord, Signorina Roan is very famous here in Rome. She is an actress.”
Thomas’s brow shot up. Once again, he stared at the door, as if Miss Roan would sweep back through for a curtain call. A smile spread across his face. “Do you know what theater she’s performing in right now? Perhaps I could secure tickets to her latest show.”
The concierge shook his head with a chuckle. “She does not perform in a theater, my lord. She is one of Rome’s best commedia dell’arte performers.”
Thomas turned toward the concierge, confused. “I thought commedia dell’arte was Venetian,” he said. “And that it died out a hundred years ago.”