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“Fiore has had a long and storied career,” said Lucrezia. “Nascimbene cannot be the only man who has wronged him. Do you intend to challenge all his worst paramours to duels?”
She could not have struck nearer to Enzo’s heart if she held an actual blade in her hand. He swallowed hard. “Recent events have soured my taste for that particular approach.”
“I’m delighted to hear so.” Lucrezia turned to their mother. “I’ve encountered Signor Fiore but twice. I very much doubt if he remembers our first meeting. He was insensible for most of it.”
Enzo remembered it all too well. Rescuing Fiore from the catacombs—laying his frail bloodied body out on the kitchen table for chirurgy—the frantic fear in his dark eyes when he awoke, however briefly, amidst the gore—how Enzo had pleaded with him to accept the chloroform—and how, against impossible odds, Fiore had trusted Enzo with his life.
Lucrezia’s gaze flicked towards Enzo so briefly he thought he might’ve imagined it. To their mother, she said, “From the evidence of my own eyes and ears on that occasion, I believe Enzo’s devotion to Fiore is absolute and cannot be lightly cast off.”
Enzo wondered that Lucrezia had any understanding of something so heartfelt as devotion. Perhaps, he supposed, she knew it in a courtly sense, as an aspect of fealty.
“On our second meeting,” Lucrezia continued, “I found him bright and well-spoken.”
“Despite the poison coursing through his veins,” Enzo cut in. “And the fever he’d just thrown off. And the fact that his frail health rendered him in no fit state to entertain any visitors whatsoever.”
Lucrezia gave him another look he recognized from their childhood—the one she wore when she was both surprised and disappointed that he’d dared to interrupt her. “Despite all that, I appreciate that Fiore seems to place a higher value on Enzo’s life than Enzo himself does.”
Enzo wished she’d cease talking about him as if he weren’t there.
“On the one hand,” Lucrezia continued, “some of the stupider actions Enzo has taken in the past year have been for Fiore’s sake. On the other hand,” she added as Enzo’s temper flared, “Fiore seems to have a good head on his shoulders so far as Enzo’s well-being is concerned—going so far as to fight a duel to the death in his stead and, more importantly, not begrudging my efforts to keep Enzo from said duel.”
Even in the midst of his stewing rage, Enzo appreciated her tact in not mentioning how Fiore formed the sole reason Enzo had challenged Nascimbene to a duel at all.
“There are additional points in Fiore’s favor,” Lucrezia continued. “There are no records in the city of any debts in his name. From this we may conclude that his tastes are not expensive—or at least not more expensive than he can afford. Nor does he gamble. His account at the bank is in good standing. That he keeps an account at all would seem to indicate he is more sensible with money than many of greater rank. If he imbibes to excess he must do so behind closed doors for no one has seen him disorderly in public, and—Why do you look surprised?” she said, turning to Enzo.
Enzo stared at her. “How do you know all this?”
“I asked.”
“You’ve spoken to him but the once,” Enzo protested. “I was there. You didn’t ask him anything about all this. Unless—was this your private conversation, then?”
If she’d demanded to speak alone with Fiore for something so invasive yet inconsequential as this, Enzo knew not what he’d do.
“Of course I didn’t ask him,” Lucrezia scoffed. “My staff made enquiries throughout the city. The bank has his name down in a ledger and his funds directly beside it. It’s all quite simple. What puzzles me is how this surprises you.”
Enzo wondered if he and Lucrezia would ever understand each other. “I didn’t know any of this.”
Lucrezia blinked at him. “You never asked him how his fortunes stood?”
“No.” Enzo didn’t bother trying not to sound incredulous. “Are you in the habit of asking all your acquaintances how much money they have in the bank?”
“Not personally,” Lucrezia replied coolly. “But if I have reason to suspect they may have ulterior motives towards my own fortune, then yes, I do make enquiries.”
“Fiore has never given me reason to suspect any such thing.” At last, a specific point on which Enzo could reassure her.
Yet she didn’t look reassured. Her expression remained arch, with a faint air of disbelief. “Well. I may happily inform you that, despite your lack of interest in divining such things, I have it on good authority that your Fiore lives well within his means.”
“I could have told you that myself,” Enzo snapped.
Lucrezia proceeded as though she hadn’t heard him. “To conclude—apart from his low origins, there is very little to say against him.”
Enzo seethed.
“And Enzo would be far from the first duke to keep a courtesan,” Lucrezia added. “Provided they both agree to live quietly—” Here she acknowledged Enzo again, however briefly, with a speaking glance. “I have no real objection to Fiore.”
“I’m gratified to hear it,” Enzo growled.
“With all this in mind,” Lucrezia continued, turning to their mother as if Enzo hadn’t spoken, “and having already heard Giovanna’s thoughts on the matter, I would greatly appreciate your opinion.”
