“Funny. Marta told me a handsome nobleman had come to visit.” She narrowed her eyes to match her icy tone. “But I see it’s only you.”

That earned her a chuckle. “I know you don’t like surprises, but don’t be too cross with me.” He tilted his head and squinted; it was a perfect imitation of someone trying to recollect a distant memory. “How long has it been since we last saw each other, anyway?”

The act was nearly as infuriating as the question itself. There was no need to put on a show for her, of all people. Lottie loosened her jaw just enough to answer. “I haven’t been keeping track.”

It had been five years.

And still nothing about Alec was genuine. He only made it appear so. That was his talent—drawing people in, telling them what they wanted to hear, to see, to feel, until they gave him everything he wanted. Then they were discarded.

He smirked again and moved a little closer. “I’d say it’s been about five years or so. Not since your—”

“Who told you I was here?” Lottie didn’t have time for this. He needed to leave. Immediately. She had not come all this way to deal with people like him and Uncle Alfred. Not anymore. “Was it Mrs. Wetherby?”

Lottie had placed the timetable for the train to Rome on her desk when she left the pension, where even her harebrained chaperone could not miss it. She also underlined the city a few times so there would be no doubt of her destination. But perhaps Lottie had slipped and mentioned the village once…

Alec shook his head. “She was sure you had gone to Rome, but I know a diversion when I see one.” His eyes warmed with approval, but Lottie made sure hers remained cold.

At least someone noticed.

She had also left behind a pressed red rose and a little note—love tokens from her imaginary Italian suitor. Had he seen through those as well? That could spoil everything.

“Then I remembered how you always talked about coming here because of your parents.” The smile faded along with his voice, but the words still hung heavily in the air between them.

Blast.

That was the problem with childhood friends. They knew your inner workings, your inspirations, all your closely guarded dreams, because they had been there when the seeds were first sown. But while Alec knew plenty about Lottie, it seemed like everything she thought she knew about him—or at least, everything that had truly mattered—turned out to be wrong. He was little more than a stranger. And perhaps always had been.

“After that, it was easy enough to track you here,” he continued. “A young English woman traveling on her own is a bit of a novelty around these parts. Especially one with hair as pretty as yours.”

She frowned at the shallow compliment even as her traitorous heart beat a little faster. “A fine story, but I can’t begin to imagine your purpose in coming all this way.” Lottie made sure each word practically dripped with condescension.