Lady Elinor's Wicked Adventures by Lillian Marek Page B

sun. “Do you know where that is?” she asked.
    â€œPart of the Maremma, I think. It’s a marshy area and will be pretty unhealthy in a couple of months.”
    â€œIt’s beautiful.”
    â€œYou can’t even see it, ninny.” He laughed and put an arm around her shoulders.
    It was a perfectly acceptable brotherly gesture, not something you could call an embrace, really. But his hand felt warm and his arm around her made her feel sheltered and something more. She leaned against his chest and rested her head against his shoulder. This was so right, so perfect. For a long moment they stood there, united in their enjoyment of the scene, where every moment the rising sun revealed more details of the landscape, and she gave a little sigh of pleasure.
    She should have kept quiet because the sound obviously disturbed him. He jumped away, pushing her from him abruptly. His voice sounded strained when he spoke again. “That’s Civita Vecchia off to the south. That’s where we land.”
    Impossible man. She had to ask. “What’s the matter, Harry?”
    â€œNothing, nothing at all. What makes you think anything is wrong?” He turned to look at her with shuttered eyes. “But you had probably best get back to your cabin now. We should be landing in an hour or so, and you and your mother will want to have some breakfast and freshen up before that.”
    She allowed him to lead her back to her cabin, but it was frustrating. Very frustrating.
    * * *
    The scene at the docks in Civita Vecchia was chaotic. Her brother was looking ridiculously stiff and pompous, which meant, Elinor knew, that he had no idea what to do. Even her father seemed taken aback by the number of people hurrying about looking either worried or officious. Lord Penworth was standing slightly in front of Elinor and her mother, one arm outstretched and resting on the knob of his walking stick as if to create a barrier between them and the world. Lady Penworth bestowed a loving smile on him before she turned to watch the turmoil with interest.
    Tunbury had gone off to see if anyone from the bank was there to meet them, preferably with a carriage and all necessary documents. He returned smiling with a tall, elderly man, thin—almost cadaverous—but meticulously dressed in a black frock coat and a silk hat that he promptly doffed as he bowed to the ladies while Tunbury performed the introductions.
    The gentleman was Mr. John Freeborn, who served as both the British consul and the head of Freeborn’s bank. After welcoming Lord Penworth and his family to Italy, he gestured at the two smiling men following him, dressed as servants. “I have a carriage and a baggage cart waiting. These fellows will carry your trunks and anything else you have, but I am afraid they understand very little English. If you could tell your servants to point out to them what needs to be taken…?”
    It needed nothing more than a nod from the marquess to have Millie, Martha, and Crispin waving the Italians onward. “They will take everything to the customs shed?” Penworth asked.
    â€œNo need for that.” Freeborn smiled. “I may not be His Holiness’s favorite Englishman, but even in the Papal States an English marquess is not subjected to tiresome formalities. If you will come with me, I think we can have you settled in Rome well before sunset.”
    No one was inclined to object to that forecast, and Penworth insisted that Freeborn share the carriage.
    Once they were settled and on their way, Lady Penworth could not restrain her curiosity. “Surely it must be difficult for you as British consul to be out of favor with Pope Pius. In what way have you offended him?”
    Mr. Freeborn smiled. “I fear I was a bit too obvious in my support of the Roman Republic a few years ago. As an Englishman, and accustomed to the freedoms Englishmen enjoy, I cannot regret it, but neither can it be denied