Mr. Armstrong took a sip of his amber liquid, watching her over the brim of his glass. "Your friend sounds a little jaded."
"She was and rightfully so. Although, I promised her that I would never be taken in by false promises and sweet words, and I haven't so far. Now at my age," Molly said, smiling a little. "It is becoming less likely each year."
Mr. Armstrong cocked one brow. Her stomach twisted at the wicked, amused glance he threw her. "From where I am sitting, Miss Clare, you are far from invulnerable." He finished his drink, setting it down with a clink. "Would you like to attend a party with me this evening? They are acquaintances, business associates I deal with in Rome. They're not titled or whom you're used to socializing with back in London, but they are good company and would welcome you if you attended."
Heat crept across her skin, and Molly took a sip of her wine, hoping her flush would not spread across her cheeks. She was not invulnerable? Whatever did he mean by such a statement? "I shall be safe enough. I have you to guard me. Have I not?" she said.
He chuckled, nodding. "Of course."
"Then I shall like to attend with you. If you're certain, it will be welcome." She studied him a moment, wondering about his past also. "You left London yourself. Why is it that you ended up in Rome?"
He frowned, sitting forward, his attention lost on the burning wood in the grate. "I disagreed with my family and could not stay. They granted funds to start my life here in Rome, and I accepted. I shall never return to London."
The thought that she would never see this man grace the floorboards of the great London homes left a pang of regret to lodge in her stomach. She didn't want to never see him again, and it was unlikely that she would ever return to Rome.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Armstrong. I'm not certain that I could be estranged from my family forever."
"Sometimes," he said, "estrangement is necessary for one's sanity. In any case, I have lived here for many years and love it as much as I loved my life before leaving London. I no longer miss it too much."
"May I ask one more question?" she asked, finishing her drink and placing it, too, on the table before them both. His gaze met hers, and she fought the urge to fan her face. He was so very intense. His attention fixed on hers with such fervor that one couldn't help but think he was reading her mind. No gentleman had ever paid so much attention to her or spent so much time.
"If you wish to?" He leaned back in his chair, waiting.
"What is your given name?" she asked.
All tension fled his features, and he chuckled, his smile just as devastating as the sound of his deep, rich voice that was suggestive as hell.
"Hugh. My name is Hugh, Miss Clare. And yours?" he queried.
"Molly," she said, feeling oddly embarrassed by their admissions. "May I ask one more question?" she continued, daring herself to be bold. To seek what she wanted. Not that asking for a man's name was so very scandalous, but women were taught not to be so forward. A lesson hard to unlearn.
"Yes," he said.
"May I call you Hugh instead of Mr. Armstrong when we're alone, such as we are now? Or when we're looking about Rome?"
"So I'm to accompany you about Rome more than once?"
"Well, I ah…" Molly wasn't certain what to say. There was no guarantee that Mr. Armstrong was even staying in Rome during her stay here. He may only be here a day and then traveling back to Naples.
He stood, coming over to her and pulling her from her seat. His hand was large and strong, his fingers entwining with hers. Heat licked at her core, her body unlike its steadfast, no-nonsense self it always was. He made her want things she'd never wanted before. He made her want him. She looked up at Hugh, unable to step back and give them the necessary space to be proper.
"It would be a pleasure to be here in Rome for the duration of your stay, to be your tour guide, and yes, you may call me Hugh, but only on one condition."
"Condition?" She cleared her throat. Why did she sound so breathless? He would imagine her fascination with him in no time if she did not get a hold of her emotions. She was being a silly chit, and would start to sound like an adoring debutante soon if she did not guard her heart. She was not in Rome to lose her head to a man. She was here to tour the city. He was merely a polite host. A gentleman determined to make her stay here a happy one. A memory that would last a lifetime once she returned to England. "What condition is that?"
He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers. His lips were soft. So very smooth and warm, and her mind imagined where else those lips would feel so sweet. She bit her lip, fighting to stem her wayward thoughts.
"That I may call you Molly in turn."
She nodded, unable to form words right at that moment. If she were as bold as her friend Evie or Willow, she would close the space between them and take what she wanted. A kiss. Her first kiss. But she could not. She had never been bold, not in that way, at least. "I would like that," she said at length, taking a welcome breath as he nodded once and started for the door.
"We leave in an hour for the party. Are you able to be ready by then?" he asked, stopping at the threshold of the room.
"Of course," Molly said, watching him go and taking a moment to compose herself. Heavens forbid, she had almost swooned at his attention. What an intoxicating man he was, and a little mysterious. She had not heard of the Armstrong's in London, and it was interesting that he went to school with Whitstone and was of that social sphere and yet not titled. A mystery, and one she would untangle if she were able while she was here.
But tonight was reserved for dancing and fun. Experience what society was hundreds of miles away from the one she graced in England. And if she were lucky enough, perhaps Mr. Armstrong, Hugh as she would forever think of him, would offer his hand for a dance. A waltz in his arms sounded quite the perfect end to a most assuredly ideal day.
Chapter 4
The party was an opulent affair. The society in Rome was varied, and he was glad the social sphere he graced now knew nothing of his true identity or the family in which he came from.
Even so, their host’s villa that sat overlooking Rome was grander and larger than his own. The family had made their wealth in wine and had houses all over Italy.
Tonight the atrium was the location of the entertainment, to the side in the tablinum sat an orchestra that played both modern and ancient tunes. Similar to his home, the atrium here was tiled in mosaic flooring, a central pond the main feature. This villa, however, being on a larger scale, the opening in the atrium was large enough that one could look up to the heavens and see the night sky in its full glory. Millions of stars framed just for them.
Servants carried around platters of drinks and supper, no need to stop the festivities to sit and eat like back in London. Hugh stood beside a Grecian statue, sipping his wine as he watched Molly speak with their hostess. Her laughter carried to where he stood, and he could tell that she was enjoying their conversation.
She was a beautiful woman, and the more time he spent with her, the more he looked forward to the next time they met. While getting dressed for this evening’s reception, he’d thought of what they could do tomorrow, where to take her and what to see. He hoped that she would like his choice and continue to allow him to be her escort while in Rome.