‘Glad to hear it,’ said Jacob. Unlike the clientele, the waiters at Gunter’s were more discreet. ‘We are looking into an Italian by the name of Lorenzo.’
Giovanni spluttered a laugh. ‘That is all?Ma dai, I can point you to six Lorenzos in London at once.’
‘Do you have a smoke?’ Dora asked, pointing to the cigarillo. ‘I always wanted to try.’
‘Filthy habit,’ muttered Jacob. ‘In Spain, half the army is addicted to them.’
With a grin, Giovanni produced another of the small cigars from his breast pocket and snipped off the end with a pair of grape scissors. He then held it to his own lit one until the fresh one smouldered. ‘For the lovely lady.’
Dora put it to her lips then paused. ‘What do I do?’
‘You suck– like this.’ His eyes danced wickedly as he demonstrated.
Dora laughed and flicked a warm look at Jacob. ‘I do so love sucking.’
Jacob felt a blush rise from his neck and travel up his face. ‘Dora!’
‘Sorry.’ She turned back to Giovanni. ‘He’s easily embarrassed.’
Jacob could tell she was teasing him to get the waiter on her side and convince him that she was his kind of people, but, damn, she could make him suffer. Only the thought that he would persuade her to carry out her love for such things when they were in bed later made him feel better and left his breeches uncomfortably tight.
‘You want to know a Lorenzo? Which one?’ asked the waiter.
‘Well, Giò, this one was a very bad lot. He killed the Comte and Comtesse D’Antraigues.’ Dora leaned beside him and tentatively puffed on the cigarillo. She made a moue of distaste.
‘It will grow on you, as you English say,’ said Giovanni. ‘Sí, I know that Lorenzo…purtroppo. Lorenzo Stelli. He came here with his master and mistress. While they ate ice cream, he would come out here and talk about the old country. He missed speakingItaliano.’
‘Can you remember anything about him?’
‘He could talk, that one.’ He made a yapping gesture with his free hand. ‘He came fromMilano. He said he was persuaded to join the emperor’s army because they were winning. He wanted to be a winner. If he did not join army, he would have no work and they would kick him around as a peasant.’
That pride went with what they knew of the man.
‘Did he say why he left the army?’ Dora asked.
Giovanni nodded. ‘He was proud of doing so. He said he hated how the Italians were always given the worst jobs. They were sent to face the guns while the French waited behind the hill, saving their powder so they could make a bold advance when the enemy was worn down and they could claim credit for the victory.’
‘I suppose it stands to reason that the French might want to spare their own.’
‘Sí,ovviamente. Also, Lorenzo hated his commander who did not like him. He was given lash for… how do you say?… insubordination?’
Jacob nodded. ‘Army discipline can be brutal and if your commanding officer doesn’t like you then your life does become unbearable. What happened next? Lorenzo absconded?’
Giovanni nodded and waved the cigarillo in a circle. ‘He ran away and took a boat from Genova.’
‘How did he end up working for an émigré?’ asked Dora.
‘I have to go soon.’ Giovanni dropped the end of his smokeand ground it out with his heel. ‘He said he arrived in London and asked for the man who hated Bonaparte the most. An Italian who plays in the Theatre Royal orchestra pointed him to the Comte D’Antraigues.’
If you were in fact an informer for the French, would you not cook up a story exactly like this? thought Jacob. Why else carry your political views with you and let that influence who you wanted to work for if you were running away from all of that? ‘Would you say that Lorenzo truly hated Napoleon?’
‘Oh, yes. He would spit every time anyone said the emperor’s name. He swore that he would stab him if ever he got the chance.’ Giovanni made stabbing motions. ‘Like this, he said.’
Instead, Lorenzo stabbed two people who had befriended him and who stood against Napoleon. ‘Would you say that he was mad?’
Giovanni shrugged. ‘I do not know. We can all break, no? He was passionate, but he made sense. He wastipico uomo Milanese.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Dora.
