Alec took another swig of wine in response and set the bottle down hard. One scarlet drop slipped down the side. “Well. It’s good to know at least one of us can be unfailingly honest.” Then he grabbed a custard tart and stood up. “I need to speak to Lorenzo. Come when you’re ready.”

The brook continued to rush behind her, strong and steady, but Lottie barely heard it. She was too consumed with watching Alec march up the slope toward the cart, his strides angry and determined.

If he were any other man, she would have sworn he was hurt.

And she would have been absolutely sure of it.

Chapter Seven

Alec ran through the planned route with Lorenzo once again. It was a straight shot from here to Pistoia, but staring at the well-worn map helped settle his nerves—and his temper. When he drew Lottie into his arms earlier and felt the telltale quickening of her heartbeat while her green eyes glazed over, he had to fight against the fierce urge to hold her there. No matter her wayward suitor, Lottie was attracted to him. At least a little. It shouldn’t have mattered—it didn’t matter—and yet the thrill was undeniable. Until she revealed her true feelings.

Alec assumed that Lottie didn’t exactly trust him, but to hear her actually say it. To admit it seemed entirely plausible that he would lie about Sir Alfred’s illness as long as it got him what he wanted?

It was a shock to learn how very little she thought of him.

Alec wasn’t anything close to an idealist. He had spent most of his adult life toeing lines that were constantly shifting. The world wasn’t black or white; people weren’t good or evil. In his experience, anyone was capable of nearly anything, if given the right motivation. But there were certain things that even he swore to never do: harm a woman or child, double-cross someone who had risked their life to help him, and break the trust of those he was closest to. Abiding by those tenets mattered, for once a man started breaking his own rules, there was no telling where he would stop.

Yes, all right, he did lie in the course of his work when necessary. But he wouldn’t lie to Lottie. Not if he could help it. And not about something important. Unless lies by omission counted.

We never spoke of you.

That was the truth, and yet it hid so much.

When he had left, Alec arranged to receive regular updates on Lottie. He needed to know how she was getting on—for her own benefit, of course. Not his. Sir Alfred had politely suggested that any communication between them would only prolong the inevitable, to which Alec agreed, but he had his own methods for securing information. It was nothing that wouldn’t be printed in the gossip pages—he had no wish to invade her privacy—and at first he skimmed the reports with a decidedly clinical eye. But if she was heartbroken or disappointed by Alec’s sudden disappearance, she certainly hadn’t consoled herself by staying in. No, she was clearly enjoying her status as a celebrated debutante and made rather a grand splash that first season.