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“I only enquire,” Giovanna continued, gentle as ever, “because it seems to me his continued association with you may prevent him from achieving this particular end.”
Enzo looked up sharp. “How so?”
Giovanna raised her brows. “Who would dare proposition the consort of the notorious dueling duke?”
Her use of the sordid sobriquet came as a slap in the face. It left Enzo altogether stunned. It was quite unlike Giovanna to be so cruel—at least deliberately.
Giovanna simply smiled. “Your Fiore is an intelligent young man, no? He must realize this. Yet he continues to dally with you. One can only conclude he considers remaining by your side to be worth throwing away his plans. It bespeaks a certain depth of feeling.”
Enzo doubted this. For another suitor, perhaps, Fiore would be willing to toss aside all he strived for. But for himself, who’d accomplished nothing save infamy in all his days, Enzo couldn’t imagine anyone sacrificing anything—much less Fiore, who had not just a comely face but a quick wit and a deep wellspring of empathy, everything to offer to someone worthy of his affections.
Giovanna took his silence to mean she’d made her point. She smiled, patted his hand, and withdrew.
Which left Enzo with a great deal to consider.
He felt foolish beyond words not to have realized how his reputation stood in the way of Fiore’s goals. Nonetheless, having understood his role at last, he resolved to correct his error.
Enzo would do all in his power to assist Fiore in finding his ideal patron.
~
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Enzo arrived at Ca’ Scaevola to find a dragon’s hoard of post awaiting him.
While he didn’t have even half so wide a social circle as Giovanna, he did subscribe to a number of periodicals. A few gazettes, to keep up with Lucrezia and her ilk. More shipping lists, to try and track his mother’s passage from port to port. And for himself alone, the medical journals. He hadn’t received a letter from anyone outside of his own family since his withdrawal from university. The flickering candle-flame of hope for any word from Orazio dwindled with each passing day.
Invitations, however, he received en masse.
From the very morning his return to the city from university became public knowledge, every household with even the faintest claim to rub shoulders with high society had peppered him with invitations to theatre boxes, private concerts, pleasure-boat outings, banquets, hunts, masquerades, and above all else, balls. None could claim any prior acquaintance with him. They invited him not as a friend but rather because if a host could promise the attendance of the legendary dueling duke, their event would quickly become the most popular of the season—if only so the resulting horde of influential guests could gawk at the city’s most infamous recluse.
Lucrezia had not expressly forbidden Enzo from accepting any of these invitations. Nevertheless he felt disinclined to entertain them. Even before his infamy he’d derived no particular enjoyment from crowds of strangers.
Now, however, as he sat at his desk in the alchemy workshop and methodically flicked through the stack, he found himself giving the invitations serious consideration. He might have no use for any new acquaintance amongst the gentry, true enough.
Fiore, on the other hand…
Giovanna’s conclusions rang in Enzo’s ears even in her absence. If Fiore continued to sacrifice seeking other opportunities for the sake of remaining with Enzo, then his plans of retiring in a wealthy elderly gentleman’s estate would never come to fruition. Thus, if Enzo’s presence in Fiore’s life prevented others from approaching Fiore with opportunities, Enzo must then, as a good and true friend, take it upon himself to bring those opportunities to Fiore.
To that end he selected one invitation in particular. The Grimaldi were not a family of particular influence or long-standing, but they were wealthy enough to host a ball, and a masquerade weighed strongly in Enzo’s favor. He set it aside to pen a short missive of his own. This he sealed with the signet ring he carried on a chain around his throat before handing it off to one of the footmen to deliver.
Between anticipation of his scheme and anxiety over the answer to his enquiry he found it difficult to wait. But to his surprise, he received a terse response before dinner. Better still, it was in the affirmative. Prince Lucrezia, Serenissima of Halcyon, had no objection to her brother attending a party hosted by a noble bloodline of inconsequential renown.
Which alleviated only half his concerns. For the rest, he donned his mask, slipped the invitation into his pocket, and set out into the evening to deliver it himself.
It was, after all, Fiore’s profession. And one couldn’t begrudge an artisan their profession.
~
Corelli had seemed shocked at Fiore’s return from his sojourn into the wilderness. Or as shocked as she ever seemed; a mere elevation of her brows was equal to anyone else’s staggering gasp. Fiore didn’t see why. He’d told her plain enough where he was going and how long he expected to be gone. He supposed he ought to feel grateful she didn’t sell off everything in his quarters and rent it out to someone else in his absence.
Settling in was the work of an afternoon. He returned to his routine by that very evening. The gentlemen he brought belowdecks were all well enough. But none were Enzo. And the lack of Enzo made his lonesome sleep afterward more disturbed than it ought to have been. He wondered as he stared up into the darkness if he could persuade Enzo to sleep beside him if neither of them were wounded. Asking outright would tilt his own hand a touch too far in his estimation.
The following morning dawned without word from Enzo. The three days afterward passed likewise. Fiore began to worry that somehow Enzo had fallen prey to yet another accident when, in the evening just before Corelli’s sons drew down the gangplank to open the tavern, he heard the click of familiar footfalls in the hall belowdecks and a knock upon his chamber door.
The knock sent Fiore’s pulse fluttering. He leapt to open the door. Opening it to see the looming form of his beloved bauta sent his heart soaring even further. He didn’t bother to disguise the joy that flashed across his face in a grin. Even beneath the mask, Enzo appeared likewise delighted at their reunion.
Two shakes of a sail saw Enzo dragged within. No sooner had the door shut upon him than he whipped off mask, hat, and hood to give Fiore the kiss he’d so dearly missed these past few days. Only when desperation to breathe outweighed desperation to touch did they part.
