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Carlotta bowed and withdrew.
The very instant the door shut on her, Fiore spoke.
“What does she want?” he demanded, looking frantic.
“I don’t know,” Enzo answered honestly. Then, realizing from Fiore’s even more horrified expression that would not suffice to calm him, he added, “I will find out in the library.”
Fiore still didn’t look soothed. “Where should I go?”
While Enzo would’ve felt perfectly comfortable if left to his own devices in the workshop for hours on end, he didn’t think the same would hold true for Fiore. “I will accompany you back to our chambers. You may wait there, if you like. You’ll have Vittorio with you.” They’d left the hound behind asleep. Enzo tried not to dwell on how similar he sounded to his childhood nursemaids when they wished to distract a small boy from his father’s imminent demise. “And I won’t be gone long. I’ll return to you just as soon as I’ve figured out what she wants.”
“And if she wants me gone?” Fiore asked.
Enzo set his jaw. “Then she will have to cast me out alongside you.”
This, at last, seemed to calm at least a few of Fiore’s nerves.
Enzo led Fiore back to the bedchamber by a route that circumvented the library and Giovanna’s quarters alike. He settled Fiore into the window seat and bid Vittorio stay and guard.
Then, against all his wishes, he left Fiore behind and continued on to meet his sister.
She could have come for but one purpose. Lucrezia had wearied of Enzo keeping Fiore in the family house and, rather than deliver her verdict herself, had persuaded Giovanna to pass it along in more congenial terms. The result would be the same regardless. Enzo would carry Fiore elsewhere. Perhaps back to his quarters aboard theKingfisher. Or, if that would not placate Lucrezia, to Enzo’s own holdings on land. Either the villa or the hunting lodge would suffice. Or, if Lucrezia forbade even this, then Enzo would hire a ship and carry his Fiore so far away that none could ever find or separate them.
He arrived at the library to find Giovanna awaiting him. She whirled toward the door as he opened it. Then rushed at him with open arms.
“Oh, Enzo! You poor boy. I came as soon as I heard.”
All this, while she crushed him in an embrace. It was not the welcome Enzo had expected in this particular circumstance. But it was not entirely out of the ordinary for her.
Enzo let her have a moment or two. Then he extracted himself to ask, “Is Antonio with you?”
“No, no, he’s looking after the villa.”
“And the children?” Enzo asked warily.
“Oh, never fret,” Giovanna assured him. “They’re home with Antonio. I daresay they’ll hardly miss me.”
That had not been Enzo’s primary concern.
“Quirina is preoccupied with her fencing,” Giovanna went on. “You’ve made quite the impression on her. And Andrea is just the same with his drawing. He’s all eagerness to show Fiore how he’s improved. But speaking on Fiore—how is he? The poor dear. May I see him?”
Enzo balked. Before he could restrain his tongue, he heard himself reply, “No.”
“Oh.” Giovanna blinked. Then her face fell. “Oh no, is he—he’s not—?”
“He is convalescing.”
“Oh!” Giovanna said, this time relieved. “Don’t frighten me like that. Bad enough the poor thing has suffered so. But—he is on the mend?”
Enzo nodded.
“Very glad tidings indeed,” said Giovanna. “But not well enough for visitors?”
Enzo thought he’d already made that plain. “He’s really not in any condition for new acquaintances just now. And,” he added, lest she take offense, “while your presence is comforting to me, I fear the presence of a stranger would not prove so to him.”
“We are already acquaintances, surely. I met and conversed with him at Wolf’s Head, and he did the same with my husband and my son.”
Enzo tried again. A touch more honest this time. “He is afraid of you.”
