Kiss Me Duke - Tamara Gill Page 0,2

window, and a large settee sat before her fire. Although she did not believe she would need that at all while she was here in Rome. Not with it being so warm.

“There is freshwater and linens behind the screen for you, Miss Molly. When you’re ready to go out, come downstairs, and I shall fetch Marcus for you. He will keep you safe and show you all the best sites Rome has on offer.”

“Thank you so much. I cannot tell you how thrilled I am about being here.”

The housekeeper smiled before leaving her to her ablutions, the sound of Miss Sinclair’s voice as she was taken to her room echoing down the hall.

Molly walked to the small balcony her room had and glanced down at the garden. She raised her face to the sun, breathing deep. What an idyllic location to live. One could get used to such a place and never return home to rainy, dreary old London.

Chapter 2

He wasn’t supposed to be in Rome. He’d promised his close friend the Duke of Whitstone that he would leave Miss Molly Clare alone for the month she was visiting the ancient city. But he could not. Not because he wished to meet the chit—he’d long thrown away any notion of making a grand match or even trying to court a lady.

Business brought him back to Rome a month earlier than planned. A letter from his brother’s steward in London never bode well. What had his brother done now that was so very bad that the black sheep of the family had to be notified?

Lord Hugh Farley, younger brother to the Duke of St. Albans, pushed through the small door off the street that led into his Roman villa and strode through the gardens, headed for his office. He waved to a couple of his staff who were picking vegetables, ignoring the fact they looked a little shocked at his return. His housekeeper Maria doubly so when he strode into the atrium.

“I shall have lunch brought into my office, please, Maria.” He half-laughed at the woman’s expression. “Do not look so shocked at my being here. I do live here as you well know.”

The housekeeper made an awkward chuckle before following close on his heels. “You have Miss Molly Clare here, Signore Hugh. Do you not remember she is to stay a month?”

“I have not forgot, but I received a letter from my brother’s steward that I must attend to.” His man of business in Rome had sent word to him, telling him to return from Naples as soon as possible. It was unfortunate that Miss Clare was here at the same time as he, but this was his home, and she had a companion, it would not be too scandalous, surely.

“I do not intend to ruin her, Maria. Do amend your distress.”

Another awkward laugh from his housekeeper rent loudly in the room. Hugh glanced up at her, not missing that she was now wringing her hands in her apron. “You disapprove.”

“She’s unmarried, Signore. You, too, remain unmarried. We could weather any storm of her being here when you were not at home, but now that you are, tongues will wag. Whether those tongues are in Rome or London.”

“Let them wag. I have business to attend to, and she has a companion. There is little we can do about it. I shall not allow society to rule my life.” God knows he’d allowed enough of that in London along with his family. The thought of his brother, his mother, soured the taste in his mouth. He picked up his penknife and sliced open the missive.

“Lunch, Maria. If you please.”

As if remembering herself, she bobbed a quick curtsy and left the room. Hugh opened the parchment and read. His blood ran cold at the black, cursive words that lay out before his eyes.

His Grace, the Duke of St. Albans, had passed away after a carriage accident. We here inform Lord Hugh Farley that you are now the Duke of St. Albans, heir to St. Albans Abbey in Kent, Brentwood House in Surrey. and Clare Castle in Ireland.

The rest of the missive blurred at the thought of his brother no longer living. This letter was already a month old. Hugh leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the wall before him.

It could not be.

Henry was dead? His only brother. Another letter sat on his desk, the neat, flowing script that of his younger sister, Sarah. He tore it open, not bothering with