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“There is nothing to forgive, cara.” He held out his arms to her. He felt her uncertainty, the remnants of her fear. He said easily, hoping to occupy her mind, “I did not tell you, but some weeks ago, I hired what you might call an agent, a man named Daniele Barbaro, to help me find Andrea and the other man. We must catch them to discover the man who hired them. Daniele has now extended his search to Pisa.”
He felt Cassie stiffen against him and wondered if he should not have simply kept his mouth shut. He was taken aback when she said in a flat, emotionless voice, “I would assist you, my lord, to find the other man and Andrea.”
He was silent for some minutes. Her words troubled him, yet he knew that she was at last willing to face what had happened to her. He said finally, “Yes, you can help us.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said.
He lay awake staring up into the darkness for some time after he was certain Cassie was asleep.
Chapter 21
But Cassie did not accompany the earl when he rode to Genoa to meet with Daniele Barbaro. He left her sniffling with a cold, propped up in bed, a wadded handkerchief in one hand and a book in the other.
“Just do not bring back Signore Bissone,” she called after him, “else I swear I’ll sneeze all over him.”
He met Daniele Barbaro in a small coffee house in the Piazza de Ferrari, a quarter that was a maze of narrow lanes and steps, and tall, crowded houses, whose every window-ledge overflowed with blossoming mimosa flowers and carnations.
“What news, Daniele?” he asked, regarding the younger man’s heavily hooded eyes. As always, he was pleased with Daniele’s appearance. Dressed in sober black, his narrow shoulders slightly hunched, he could easily pass for a Genoese man of business.
“I received word but yesterday from a friend, Ludovico Rialto. He believes that Andrea is playing off his vicious tricks in Corgorno.”
Corgorno was no more than two days’ ride from Genoa. “It would appear that the brute is something of a fool. When you find him, Daniele, send me word. Remember, you are not to kill him. Have you need of more men?”
“No, my lord.”
The earl ordered them wine from a hovering waiter and waited until the man was out of earshot. “Before you take him, remember that he must have the same tattoo as his comrades—a serpent twined about a sword. I have discovered from Teodoro Cozzi, my man of business in Rome, that the tattoo was particular to a group of hired assassins who were active there some ten years ago. He tells me that he may be able to learn what became of them. If it turns out that the man in Corgorno is not Andrea, it is possible that we will be able to find him through Cozzi’s efforts.”
Daniele stroked his thick mustache, wiping off droplets of wine. “It is something,” he said in his measured way. “I will keep you informed, my lord, in either case.”
The earl had retraced his steps through the maze of narrow streets and was on the point of paying a boy for holding Cicero when a provocative woman’s voice stopped him.
“Antonio, how delightful to see you.”
He turned to see Giovanna, dressed in apricot velvet, gazing up at him, her dark eyes wonderfully wide, her soft lips parted in a beguiling smile. A maid stood near her, her arms weighed down with packages.
“Contessa.” He bowed to her.
She offered him her hand, and he raised it to his lips and lightly kissed her fingers.
Giovanna laughed softly, and with a quick nod of her head, dismissed her maid. “I find myself quite fatigued, Antonio. Would you please escort me home?”
The earl looked after the retreating maid, his mouth tightening. He could hardly leave Giovanna unattended. “Very well,” he said shortly, and proffered his arm.
“Signore Montalto tells me that you come to Genoa often, Antonio.”
“Yes. I trust my business associate is well.”
“He’s an old man. Can an old man ever be well?” She shrugged and smiled up at him. “But what of you, Antonio? It has been months since I’ve seen you.”
“As you’ve already been informed, Giovanna, I am often in Genoa. When I am not, I am at the Villa Parese.”
She would have liked to question him further, but decided to bide her time until they reached her house. She stroked her fingers lightly on his sleeve and walked silently beside him.
“Would you care for a glass of wine?” she asked him the moment they stepped into the entrance hall.
“No, I thank you not, Giovanna.” He bowed to her abruptly, and turned to leave. She stepped in his path, clutched her arms about him and buried her face against his chest. “Dio, I have missed you.”
He clasped her arms and pulled her away from him. “I am certain, contessa,” he said, “that there are many gentlemen vying presently for your considerable favors. But I have told you that I am no longer one of them.”
