“Was the meal to your liking tonight, my Lady?”
“Oh yes, indeed,” Thomasin began. “It was all so good. I have missed court food. Pork and mustard is my favourite dish, and…” She stopped and laughed. “But you will think me a terrible glutton.”
“Not at all,” he smiled. “I like a woman to enjoy her food. Back home in Venice, food is an art form, taken most seriously. We have the most delicious and plump partridges and woodpigeons, and the sweetest suckling pigs, along with fresh olives, ripe figs and sweet oranges, grown on our trees, and fish caught in our streams. All set amid the most beautiful landscape. You would love it there.”
Thomasin could not deny the appeal of the image he presented. “Is Venice the place you still think of as home?” she asked cautiously, mindful of Ellen’s words.
“Of course, I was born and raised there. It made me who I am.”
“So London is not your home?”
“No more than it is yours, I think, my Lady. Where does your heart lie? In the countryside?”
“In Suffolk, yes. But I am no longer the girl who grew up there.”
“I should think you are not.” His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Travel changes us, even a little way. Venice to England. Country to city. It is enough.”
“And the court, too — it makes you see things differently.”
“And so you can return home, but you can never go back.”
Thomasin looked at him in surprise.
“You don’t think?” he asked. “You can never visit your Suffolk again, as the girl you were. You can only visit it, and see it, as the new you, now. The you who knows other places, other experiences. It does not mean you won’t return, or even live there again, but you will do so with new eyes and a new heart.”
“And Venice?” she asked softly. “How long is it since you last saw it?”
“Six months now. But it is not the first time I have left. I have spent time in France and Spain. Venice is more like a mother, welcoming me when I return to visit.”
Thomasin smiled. “What of your family?”
“There are so many of them. I am the eldest son of twelve, and I am sure my cousins run into the hundreds.”
“Really? That’s such a large family.”
“It is indeed. But I’m closest to just a few. My mother, my eldest sister, you know.”
“Don’t they miss you?”
“Of course they do. And I them. Italian families are close.”
“So will you be seeing them soon?”
Nico stopped and took both her hands in his. “Is this the reason for all the questions? You wish to know if I plan to leave you and return to Venice, before you get too involved with me?”
Thomasin shrugged. He had seen right through her. “I suppose.”
“Well, believe me, I have no plans to return to Venice soon. I am happy with my position here, grateful to be at court. And now I have even more reason to stay.”
“Would you want to make your life there, though, one day? Settle down?”
“In Venice? In the summer it stinks to high Heaven. My place is here now. I will be an honorary Englishman for as long as you wish it. I am not about to disappear. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Thomasin blushed and tried to turn away, but Nico kept hold of her hands.
“But what of you? What guarantee do I have that you will not rush off to the rolling fields of Suffolk, and leave me here?”
“It’s less than a day’s ride away.”
