Page 36 of Bloodlines and Birthright

“A little, yes.”

“Did he look familiar to you?”

“No. You recognized him?”

“Vaguely.” I sighed into the cup then sipped. The memory must be vague indeed if I couldn’t recall it. “What of De Angelis and his friend?”

“We followed them to a pensione located off the main road halfway between Monteoro and Pecco. Apparently temporary workers who come for the summer tourist season stay there. Searching their rooms for the spell would be impossible with so many people coming and going.”

Thank goodness for that. I’d planned to voice my opposition to the idea if he suggested it, but I knew I’d not be able to change his mind if he’d already made it up. I wondered if the more sensible Miss Wheeler had influenced his decision.

My gaze slid to her, taking tea with her employer. Mr. Defoe caught me looking and raised his cup in greeting.

Oscar hadn’t noticed the exchange. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, until he suddenly set his cup down. “I’ve been thinking about the widow’s denial that Signore Colombo had no plans to build a bigger facility in Milan. Not only did she say he had no plans to expand, but he’d not mentioned employing a wood magician to her, either.”

“Not all husbands confide in their wives. We saw the drawings for his new factory with our own eyes.” Perhaps his failure to confide in her was why the widow had been so angry toward her husband. She’d certainly not shed many tears over his death.

It made me wonder again if she’d killed him. If she had, did she also destroy Signore Scala’s stolen wood spell in a fit of pique? She had no reason to keep it if, in fact, she even knew what it was.

Oscar put his face close to the window and peered out. “It appears to be clearing up. Good.” He sat back, eyes sparkling.

“You’ve got a mischievous look about you,” I said. “Why?”

“Can’t talk now. Miss Wheeler and Defoe are approaching.” He plastered a smile on his face and rose. “Would you care to join us?”

He’d not even finished when Mr. Defoe signaled to a passing waiter for two chairs to be brought over. I stood and offered mine to Miss Wheeler.

She sat. “I do hope this weather clears up. We’re venturing across the lake tomorrow to see the other villages.” It was a lie, of course, but she said it so smoothly that I would have believed her if I hadn’t known she’d said it for Mr. Defoe’s benefit. I was quite sure he’d directed his assistant to follow us again.

The waiter arrived with two spare chairs and we men sat. All four of us crowded around the small table. “We leave the day after tomorrow,” Mr. Defoe announced. “I’m needed in New York. That gives you all of tonight and tomorrow to consider my proposal.”

“We still don’t have the book, Defoe,” Oscar said. “Scala hasn’t told us who he sold the book to.”

“But he will once you complete whatever task he set for you. If you complete it tomorrow, I’ll buy the information he gives you then and there. If not, we can negotiate by wire.”

Oscar scoffed. “We’re not selling you the location of the book or the book itself.”

“You haven’t heard my price.”

“Save your breath, Defoe.”

Mr. Defoe focused on me with all the hungry intensity of a hawk sighting a worm. The silky smile made me squirm. “What say you, Professor? What’s your price?”

“Me? Er…” I pushed my glasses up my nose. “Oscar speaks for both of us. The book isn’t for sale.”

“Come now, Professor. Be your own man. Don’t let him bully you.”

“He’s not.”

“The only bully here is you, Defoe,” Oscar said coolly.

The American ignored him. “Just think of all the books you could buy for your library with my money, Professor. Is the book he wants worth giving up all the books you want?”

I opened and closed my mouth, fidgeted with my glasses, cleared my throat. I knew that my every move told him how anxious his attention made me, but I couldn’t stop.

“The abbey librarian told me about another book you wanted,” he went on. “Something to do with bloodlines.”

Finally, something I could discuss without sounding like a fool. “Bloodlines and Birthright: Observations on Inherited Traits by a Monk. It’s considered an important work. Charles Darwin used it as a basis for his theory on evolution, which has in turn been used to explain how magic evolved. Through families,” I added. “It’s an inherited trait. The book is rare. The Bloodlines and Birthright book, not Darwin’s.” Ugh. Even on a topic I knew a lot about, I came off sounding like a fool. Mr. Defoe made me nervous.