“With your permission,mia donna?”Patrick asked.He raised his hands to her waist and easily lifted her out of the coach, lowering her until he was sure her feet were on the marble that made up the floor of the courtyard.
Armenia had to suppress the urge to yelp at the unexpected move.“Grazie,” she murmured.
The two horses pulling his town coach stopped directly behind her coach, the neighs of complaint rending the otherwise quiet night.
“I’ll see you to your door,mia donna,” he said, offering his arm.
Hesitating a moment, Armenia finally placed her arm on his and was reminded of how it had felt during their dance earlier that evening.Remembered how she had caught him staring at her.
Probably wondering my age, she thought.
“Have you a butler?Or someone to see to the door?”he asked when it didn’t open at their approach.
“I told DeLuca I wouldn’t require his services this evening,” she replied, reaching out to push down on the door handle.The carved wooden panel opened inward.The vestibule beyond, lit by a single candle lamp, included a wide marble staircase that wound up in a large spiral.The upper steps beyond the entry disappeared in the gloom.“Buona notte,SignoreMcAdams,” she said, climbing the single step before turning to face him.Given her height—she was nearly as tall as him—she had the advantage of being able to look down at him.She dipped a slight curtsy.
Patrick took her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.“Might I be allowed to pay a call on you?Perhaps escort you...on one of your walks?”Given she stood on the threshold with the candlelight behind her, she appeared as if in silhouette.
Armenia blinked, surprised he remembered her mentioning she liked to walk.“Tell me,SignoreMcAdams, do youtrulylike to walk?”
“I do,” he replied.“I have been on a quest to find as many fountains as there might be here in Rome,” he added.
Turning her head slightly, she glanced to where DeLuca usually left her correspondence and saw only one missive on the silver salver.“If you’re not intending to findallof them...”she hedged.
“I hear tell there are three-thousand,” he said.
She tittered.“In the middle of the city, you might find four-hundred,” she said.“I could take you to four on the morrow, if you’re not too early,” she replied.“Otherwise you’ll have to attend my morningtoilette,” she warned, arching a dark brow as if she was challenging him.
Patrick swallowed.“You say that as if it would be a hardship,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
She lifted a shoulder.“For some, it is.”She watched as his brows once again furrowed, but before she knew quite what was happening, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.
The move may not have been made with any other intention than a farewell between friends, but a shiver shot through her at the simple courtesy.
“I will come for you around eleven o’clock,” he said.“Perhaps we can find a place to enjoy a luncheon afterwards?”
She nodded.“I’ll try to be ready by then,” she teased.
He displayed a grin.“Buonanotte, mia donna.”He turned and made his way to his coach, easily stepping up into the equipage before the horses were set into motion.
Watching from where she still stood in the doorway of Villa D’Avalos, Armenia felt a pang of dismay.
For the first time in a very long time, a man hadn’t insisted he be allowed to spend the night with her.She would have had to deny him given she was hosting Nicoletta, David, and their children for one more night.In the morning, they would return to Villa Montblanc to play host to David’s family.
Finally closing the door, she removed her mantel, hung it up on a hook by the door, and made her way up the stairs to her bedchamber.
I suppose I am too old for him, she thought.
