Jack chuckled. “Alessandra says she can swear like a sailor in nearly a dozen different dialects.”
“Interesting.”
“Yes, but not nearly as interesting as the collection of rare books I have here on classical architecture.” For Jack, ancient Rome was a far more fascinating topic of conversation than Katharine Kylie Woodbridge. “Come, there is a seventeenth-century volume of engravings on the Temple of Jupiter that I want to show you….”
Marco reluctantly pushed aside all thoughts about ladies—naked or otherwise—to follow Jack to one of the display tables set by the bank of leaded-glass windows. Yet somehow the tantalizing scent of Sicilian neroli and wild thyme stayed with him, teasing at his nostrils.
Strange, it seemed hauntingly familiar, but he just couldn’t place it.
And no wonder, he thought, dismissing the notion with a sardonic shrug. He had inhaled too many perfumes in his wicked, wanton life to recall them all. In truth, none of the women had been very memorable.
Save for one clever whore in Naples who had dared…
“Pay attention, Ghiradelli. If you drool on that Doric column, I swear I shall cut off your tongue.”
Chapter Two
What is that horrible smell?”
“Fish guts and dried cow manure.” Kate shifted the inkwell on her desk and kept on writing up her notes, intent on catching up with her botanical work now that she was back home in London. “Sorry, I thought I had washed all of it off my hands.”
Her maid eyed the streak of slime on the hem of Kate’s work dress, which was slowly oozing onto the priceless Aubusson carpet. “Perhaps you might want to consider a change of clothing.”
Kate glanced down. “Shite,” she muttered under her breath.
“That’s another way of putting it,” replied Alice, who now was very used to her charge’s peculiar quirks. Unlike the half-dozen or so predecessors, none of whom had lasted more than a month, the maid was not intimidated by noxious stains or foul language. “However, it does sound a trifle more ladylike when you say it in French.”
“Yes, but I keep telling you, I am—”
“Not a real lady,” chorused Alice. “Thank heavens. Otherwise this position would be awfully boring.”
Kate grinned. “It was certainly a stroke of luck that Simpson found you. None of the others sent by the employment agency had any sense of humor.” She tapped the tip of her pen to her chin. “It wasn’t as if I deliberately put the dissected frog’s leg in my sash to terrify poor Susan. I simply forgot it was there.”
“It wasn’t luck,” said Alice. “After that incident, he gave up trying to find respectable candidates through an agency. I am acquainted with his cousin—don’t ask how—and as the poor man was at his wit’s end, he was willing to overlook the rather sketchy explanation of my past positions in return for me promising that I didn’t faint at the sight of dissected reptiles.”
“That doesn’t happen often. I was merely trying to duplicate a lecture I heard at the Royal Zoological Institute.” Kate brushed a leaf from her sleeve. “As you know, my specialty is botany.”
“Is a fish now considered a plant?” asked Alice, giving another exaggerated sniff.
“I was just experimenting with a new formula for fertilizer. My friend Ariel and her new husband are working on developing a new strain of Papaver somniferum—that is a type of poppy from the East—but the seedlings are quite delicate.”
Alice pinched at her nose. “Maybe your next project could be on formulating botanical oils for perfume.”
The mention of fragrance caused Kate to suck in a slow breath and hold it in her lungs. She had always made up her own scent, a unique mixture of sweet spices and earthy herbs. The ingredients came from a tiny shop in Sicily that overlooked the Tyrrhenian Sea. It was, she supposed, a signature of sorts. Something that was hers, and hers alone.
Exhale, she told herself. Men were not subtle creatures. Neroli and wild thyme were used in myriad feminine fragrances. Marco had sniffed around far too many women to remember a fleeting encounter in Naples.
“An excellent suggestion,” said Kate casually. “We could open a shop on Bond Street to earn extra pin money.”
Alice pulled a face. “Can you imagine his reaction if the duke heard that his granddaughter was going into trade?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I can,” answered Kate, unable to keep the edge of resentment from her voice. “Cluyne turned my mother out on her ear without a farthing when she dared to marry an American merchant sea captain against his lordly