“Yes.” Dante nodded. “I’m beginning to think this entire assignment is a waste of time. The only contact we’ve seen the Ambassador make that looked in the least bit suspicious was the man who you’ve determined is merely a friend looking for a comrade to speak about how wonderful their country is compared to England.”
Just as he finished his words, the Ambassador walked out of one of the stores along the village green. Dante immediately moved her in the direction of the store. “Let’s see what he bought in there.”
The small shop was a bakery with wonderful aromas coming from within. Lydia strolled up to the counter and spoke in German, complimenting the woman behind the counter on the lovely shop.
When the woman appeared confused, Dante took over and asked if she had lemon tarts for sale. When she pointed to a tray of luscious looking tarts of all sorts, Dante asked for two lemon and took out coins from his pocket and paid her.
Once they were outside, Lydia turned to him. “It was a gamble that she knew German, but I thought if she did, that would have increased our chances of her being his contact.”
Dante smil
ed. “I figured that was what you were doing. But these lemon tarts smell wonderful. What say we wander over to the bench there near the water and eat them?” He waved to an area set aside for relaxation. Three stone benches sat in a circle with a huge oak tree in the middle of the arrangement. Not far from the benches was a small stream.
“A fine idea, Mr. Rose. My mouth is watering already in anticipation.”
Dante steered Lydia to the stone bench, and they sat. He unwrapped the tarts and handed one to her.
Lydia inhaled deeply. “They smell divine.” She took a bite and closed her eyes and moaned. Dante almost dropped his tart watching her. She looked like a woman in the throes of passion.
“Um, don’t do that.” His voice was raspy.
She opened her eyes. “Do what?”
He waved his lemon tart at her. “That. What you just did.”
“I took a bite of my tart.” She looked at him with confusion.
“Never mind. It’s my problem, not yours,” he mumbled. And it truly was his problem. He had tried to stay as far away from Lydia during the house party that he could without compromising their investigation. He didn’t think it was his imagination that Lydia was avoiding him as well. They functioned together quite well in groups, but they both seemed to be avoiding being alone, except for their morning rides.
Damned if he didn’t feel an attraction to her so strong that he’d passed up a number of offers to join him in his bedchamber from women who at one time would have had him jumping for joy. The thought of holding any woman except Lydia in his arms left him cold.
The worst part had been the dreams he’d endured since they’d arrived at the house party. If Lydia uncovered looked as good as she did in his dreams he would never want to leave the bed once he got her there.
Except he had no intention of getting her anywhere near his bed. Despite all her talk of independence and sophistication, given her upbringing, she would expect an offer of marriage if they did succumb to their temptation. She might protest that wasn’t so, but he knew she would regret it and end the little bit of friendship they had.
As they strolled the area, looking at various goods and products from the street vendors as well as the shops, he tried his best to ignore the scent coming from Lydia and the softness and warmth of her body next to his.
They arrived at the inn where they were all gathering for lunch. The Ambassador waved at them as they entered and patted the seat next to him. “Miss Sanford, please join me. I’ve saved you a seat.”
Lydia looked over at Dante, who noticed there was only room for one. He shrugged and Lydia joined the man. Dante found a seat at the next table with Mr. Williams, Miss Evermore and Mrs. Martin. They all greeted each other and discussed the morning, the places they’d visited and the things they’d bought.
It was apparent from the sound of the Ambassador’s voice that he must have headed directly to the inn after leaving the bakery. He was close to being in his cups.
They placed their orders and Dante found himself studying the Ambassador and Lydia. It appeared that Lydia was becoming uncomfortable. The Ambassador leaned toward her and kissed her on the neck. She drew back and shook her head.
Dante stood and glared at the man. He didn’t notice. He sat back down as their food arrived but kept his eyes on the activity at the other table. Once again the Ambassador leaned close to Lydia and whispered something in her ear. She shook her head and shifted on the bench. He slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his body.
Lydia elbowed him, but he continued to hold her. Her face was red, and she looked ready to punch him, which was something a lady never did. Especially in public.
Dante had had enough. He stood and marched over to Lydia’s table. “Excuse me, Mr. Ambassador, but please refrain from touching Miss Sanford. It is obvious she is not enjoying your attentions.”
The Ambassador waved him off, swaying on the bench. “Yes, she is. She’s been following me around for the past two days.” He looked up at Dante, his eyes bloodshot. “Geh zuruck zu deinem Tisch.” He pulled Lydia against him again and Dante reached over, dragged the man off the bench and plastered him a facer. He went down like a bag of rocks. Dante took Lydia’s elbow and helped her up. He threw some coins on the table and they left.
“What did he say to me?” he asked as they left the dimness of the inn and stepped into the sunlight.
“Go back to your table,” she mumbled as she turned to watch the Ambassador snoring on the floor before the door to the inn closed.
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