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Fiore endeavored to look as though he felt fine in return.
Enzo’s gaze dropt to Fiore’s side. There Vittorio stood as he’d done all evening. Fiore supposed his knuckles knotted up in the hound’s ruff rather told all as concerned his frantic state.
Mercifully, Enzo made no comment on this. Instead he turned to Carlotta. “Any word of Maestra Rovigatti?”
“None yet, your grace,” Carlotta replied as though this were a perfectly normal enquiry. “Allow me to discover what delays her.”
Enzo dismissed her with a nod. The door shut behind her.
Then and only then did Fiore release his hold on Vittorio and fling himself into Enzo’s embrace. The strength of Enzo’s arms around him soothed the bulk of his nerves within moments.
“What’s happened?” Fiore asked when he could at last bring himself to draw back, though he kept his hold on Enzo’s arms. “Why do you require Maestra Rovigatti at this hour of night?”
Enzo hesitated. “I’ve challenged Nascimbene to a duel.”
Fiore stared. All his anxieties vanished. A grin stole over his face. “Have you, indeed?”
~
Not since Orazio had anyone reacted positively to Enzo’s dueling. It left him somewhat stunned. He knew not what to say.
Fortunately Fiore told him. “What happened? How did he reply? When will you meet him?”
“I will meet him at the time and place of his choosing. I gave him no chance to reply; I left directly after.”
Fiore stared in unaccountable yet unmistakable admiration. “Why?”
“Because Lucrezia said we have no other recourse.”
“She told you to duel him?”
“She told me I couldn’t bring any legal suit against him.”
Fiore blinked. “Fair enough, then.”
Enzo couldn’t have asked for a better reception. Still, he hesitated. “May I ask you something about his habits? Forgive me—I know it pains you to think on him.”
Yet still Fiore smiled. “To think on his demise pains me not a whit. What do you wish to know?”
“Has he any training with a blade? Or any inclination towards athletic pursuits?”
“Not to my knowledge.” Fiore shrugged. “But perhaps he’s changed since I left the conservatorio. He’s graceful enough. Dance training and all that. Would that make him better with swords?”
“Better than a clumsy fellow, assuredly.”
Whatever else Fiore might have told him was interrupted by another knock on the workshop door. Not Carlotta’s. Most likely another member of the staff.
“Enter,” Enzo commanded.
The door opened to reveal one of the footmen—Ignazio—bearing a letter on a silver salver. Enzo took it and dismissed him. The letter bore a wax seal of Teatro Novissimo’s insignia; a comic and tragic mask entwined. Enzo felt a queer satisfaction in breaking it.
To His Grace, Lord Enzo Scaevola, the Duke of Drakehaven.
I shall meet you at dawn a fortnight hence at Isola dell’Anfiteatro. Any further enquiries may be made to my second, Signor Bonato.
I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
Maestro Lotario Nascimbene
