Chapter13
Interrupting a Bath
Meanwhile, a mile to the southwest
Patrick regarded the entrance to the courtyard of Villa D’Avalos and wondered how long the testament to marble architecture had been standing.The Corinthian columns framing the wrought iron gates were stained with rust but otherwise intact.The marble blocks making up the courtyard walls, which he realized were also the outside walls of at least one of the interior rooms of the villa and of the carriage house, were mostly white, their veining a combination of pale yellow and gold.
A doorway separate from the gate was set off to one side, a reminder that most people probably didn’t arrive by coach but rather on foot.He tested the black wrought iron handle and was surprised when it easily moved and the wooden door swung inward.When he closed it, he was careful to ensure the latch caught.
Glancing around the courtyard, he discovered flowering oleanders in between the evenly spaced columnar cypress trees.From their perfect shape and size, it was evident a gardener tended the property.
Armenia’s coach wasn’t in the courtyard, but there were tracks on the marble floor leading to the carriage house, and their arched wooden doors were closed.The faint odor of horse manure suggested the stables were probably behind the carriage house.
Patrick made his way across the courtyard and paused before the front doors.Another set of Corinthian columns flanked it—a detail he hadn’t noticed the night before given the dark.Glancing up, he was surprised to see the building stood at least three stories tall.Remembering the stairs beyond the doors, he realized the servants quarters were probably on the ground floor to the right.
He pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and checked the time—a minute past eleven.Well, her ladyship couldn’t claim he arrived too early if he knocked now.
Grabbing the large ring beneath the iron lion’s head knocker in a gloved hand, he pounded it three times and stepped back.He didn’t have to wait long for one of the panels to open.
“SignoreDeLuca?”he said, remembering the name Armenia had used the night before.
“Sì?”
“SignorePatrick McAdams forDonnaArmenia,” he said, holding out a calling card.
The butler didn’t take the card but stepped back and bowed as Patrick entered the vestibule.“DonnaArmeniaè al piano di sopra.Seguimi.”
She is upstairs.Follow me.
They climbed the curved staircase, the servant continuing to climb even when a landing indicated they had reached the first floor.From Patrick’s brief glance, it was apparent the villa was kept in good repair.Paintings framed in gilt lined the walls, their placement below ornately carved moldings.A wide marble landing at the top of the stairs branched off into two corridors, a Turkish rug running the length of both.
They passed four closed doors before reaching the end of the west corridor.DeLuca knocked on the door and said, “SignoreMcAdamsè qui.”
There was a moment of silence before a feminine voice called out, “venire.”
Reaching for the door handle, DeLuca paused and gave Patrick a beseeching look.
“What is it?”Patrick asked.“Uh...sbagliato?”
“Potrebbe essere arrabbiata.”He lifted both shoulders and hurried back down the hall as if he feared his mistress.
“Angry?”Patrick repeated, not sure if he correctly understood the man’s comment.He slipped into the room—a sort of parlor featuring a marble fireplace and feminine furnishings from the century prior—but no one was seated at either of the chairs or on the settee.A chandelier hung in the center, but none of the candles were lit.“DonnaArmenia?”
“In here,” he heard from somewhere to his left.
He made his way through the only open door on that side of the room and stopped short at seeing Armenia lounging in a footed bathtub set in the middle of a bathing chamber.If she hadn’t been there, he would have taken a moment to appreciate the marble fountain that dominated one wall or the chandelier that matched the one in the parlor.Perhaps he would have glanced out the windows hung with lacy curtains that faced both west and south.
Instead, his gaze was caught by her.At first, he thought she was naked, her raven hair caught up in an ornate chignon at the back of her head, her bare arms resting on the curled edge of the tub, the level of the water barely covering her breasts.After staring for only a moment, he realized she wore a sleeveless shift.Beneath the water, though, the fabric was practically translucent, and he could make out the rosy areolae of her breasts and the dark triangle at the top of her thighs.
Apparently his cock thought the display was an invitation, for it reacted before he even realized what was happening.“Uh...apologies,” he said, turning away.“I didn’t mean to?—”
“One would think you had never seen a woman in a bath before,” Armenia chided.
He swallowed, willing his manhood to settle down.“That’s because...well, I...I haven’t,” he struggled to reply.
“Liar,” she accused, although there was humor in her voice.
Finally facing her, his brows furrowing at hearing her accusation, he scoffed.“I have not,” he insisted.When she didn’t attempt to cover her breasts with one of her arms, he glanced around until he spotted a pile of bath linens on a chair at the end of the tub.“Where is your lady’s maid?”He headed to the chair and took the opportunity to glance out the window to see the tops of the buildings across the street.Beyond was the river.At one time, the villa probably had a clear view of the Tiber.
