Armenia blinked again, fighting back the urge to sniffle.She extracted a handkerchief from her pocket and touched her nose.“The pleasure was mine,” she replied.
“I rather doubt that.I nearly crushed your foot,” he countered.“I suppose I didn’t need to mention it has been years since I last danced.”The comment held a hint of sadness—or perhaps it was regret.
“Did your meeting with my nephew gain the results you hoped for?I know that was your real reason for attending the ball, was it not?”
Despite the darkness, she could tell he was surprised by her query.“It was, although it wasn’t myonlyreason for attending.”
“Oh?”
“Uh, curiosity, I suppose.I wondered if the balls here were different from those I’ve attended in Boston.”
“And?”she prompted.
“This one was far more...more,” he said.“More glittery, if that is a word?More elegant?I certainly didn’t expect to see men wearing colors I would deem more appropriate for ballgowns.”
Amused, Armenia finally relaxed and grinned.“Roman men can be such popinjays on occasion,” she agreed.Always, she almost added.“It’s as if they aren’t aware their time is coming to an end.”
From the way he bent forward, his elbows moving to his knees, she knew he was surprised by her comment.
“What are you saying,mia donna?”
“I’ve been alive long enough to see what’s coming, Mr.McAdams.The time for aristocrats in this country is nearing its end.At some point, the peasants will revolt, mayhap as they did in France, and we shall lose everything.”
“Surely not in our lifetimes,” he replied.“At least, I hope not.I just arranged to be the sole purchaser of wool from your brother’s sheep for the next decade,” he added.
Armenia gave a start.“Wool?”she said in disbelief.Woolhad been the reason he was so anxious to gain time with her nephew?
He nodded.“I, uh, deal in silks and wools,mia donna.My textiles company might be based in Boston, but I’m required to import some of the materials or finished fabrics from here in Europe.”
She couldn’t suppress the scoff that escaped her throat.“Apologies.I suppose I imagined your business quite different.”
“Oh?”
Tittering, she placed a gloved hand to her lips.“You seemed so serious?—”
“I do have a tendency to look as if I’m on my way to a funeral,” he admitted sheepishly.Despite the dark interior, she saw how he indicated the formal clothes he wore.“This evening’s choice of attire being no exception.”
“You wear it well, though,” she replied.“I, however, prefer never to wear black.I am reminded too often of widow’s weeds.”She allowed a sound of disgust.
“Because you had to wear them?”he asked, his brows furrowing.
“Not as a widow, of course,” she replied.“But both my father and my brother have died in the past decade.”The coach turned, and she glanced out the window.“This is my villa,” she said, noting how he had already leaned over to look through the opposite window.
“You are in town?”he remarked.
“I am,” she acknowledged, struggling to force her feet back into her slippers.
He continued to stare out the window.“Is this the Via del Tor Millina?”The coach paused a moment to allow a gate to be opened before it passed through the entrance into a courtyard and slowed to a halt.
“One end of it,” she replied.
“You’re close to the Piazza Navona.”
“I am,” she acknowledged.
“My office—my lodgings—are not far from here,” he said, attempting to gain his bearings from what little he could see given the tall buildings surrounding them.
The coach door opened, and he hurried to step down.He turned to offer his hand as Armenia clutched at her skirts, one of her slippered feet tentatively testing for the location of the step.
