She flashed her enigmatic smile once again. “Oh, how very sweet of you to watch over her. I wish I had such a thoughtful cousin protecting me when I was her age. He might have saved me from my first husband,” she added with another laugh and fluttered her fan. Then Madame Noir quickly scanned the terrace. “There she is.” She nodded toward the far end of the crowd. “See? She is talking with Mr. Drakos. I’m told he owns a very successful olive oil company. He even has his own island.”

Alec squinted. He had met the Grecian businessman earlier—late fifties or early sixties, a head shorter than Lottie, and a downright bore. He had wrangled Lottie into what appeared to be a deep conversation. Her head was bent slightly and her delicate brows were pulled together in concentration, but in that exquisite gown she seemed otherworldly. A celestial being brought down to earth. It was as if the goddess Flora was listening politely to an undergardener’s petty lament. Relief swelled inside him, and he turned back to Madame Noir.

She gave him a knowing smile. Her eyes then lingered on Lottie. “A lovely girl, your cousin. Even with that hair.”

Alec bit the inside of his cheek to keep from lashing out. He offered his arm, and Madame Noir eagerly took it while pressing her sizable décolletage against him. He glanced down and managed to flash her a smirk.

Bold lady.

As they shuffled toward the dining room, he kept the conversation light, and she laughed at all his terrible jokes.

Good. She liked him already.

For nearly two centuries the palazzo had belonged to a powerful Venetian banking family, and the dining room was the house’s showpiece—a cavernous space painted a rich, sensuous red that gave way to a brilliant frescoed ceiling that rivaled the Sistine Chapel, while the walls were adorned with priceless art and antiques. It seemed that everywhere one looked, there was something even more magnificent. Alec still lost his breath just a little whenever he entered the room.

Even Madame Noir seemed impressed. “My goodness,” she whispered.

As they paused to take in the room’s many treasures, his gaze tangled with Lottie’s. Mr. Drakos was still talking beside her, but she didn’t appear to be listening this time. She was worryingly pale once again, like she had been in his flat. Alec was a moment away from casting Madame Noir aside and gathering Lottie in his arms when her gaze fell to where the Frenchwoman pressed against his side, her arm wrapped snuggly around his own. Lottie’s mouth tensed, as if she had tasted something bitter.

Something like disgust.

Alec’s neck burned under her inspection. Lottie, who had been born with everything and seemed determined to throw it away, had no right to judge him.