“Good.” The captain touched his hat. “Good day, Signor.”
“Shall we walk on?” I asked Donata, my tone chilled, not bothering with a polite farewell.
Donata had said nothing at all, but she sent the captain her iciest look, one that told the receiver she wouldn’t soil her shoes stepping on him. From the captain’s flush, he understood.
I ushered Donata away, making for the lane that led to the church with the Raphael fresco. People melted out of our path, clearly wondering what we’d done to merit the attention of the police.
We proceeded as sedately as we could through the streets to the church, and I guided Donata inside it, as though nothing important had deterred us from our sightseeing.
A service was being conducted, a Friday mass of some kind. We hovered in the entrance while near the altar of the rather small church, a priest in flowing robes and the men who surrounded him sang a Latin hymn in melodious baritones.
The Raphael fresco was in a side chapel near the front door, so I could quietly point it out to Donata without moving farther into the church. She loved art and paintings as much as she loved music. She admired the fresco, which depicted sibyls and angels, her hand squeezing mine in her enjoyment. If not for our unfortunate encounter with the police captain, this might be an enchanting moment.
The hymn wound down, the priest moved up the steps to his pulpit, and Donata and I quietly exited.
“I need to visit a friend,” I said as we wended our way back to the piazza. “I will return you to Grenville’s first, where you can rest. I’m certain Gautier will treat you like a queen, though Grenville calls it living rough.”
Donata’s brows rose, she ignoring my attempt at humor. “I have no need to retreat indoors. I shall visit this friend with you.”
I shook my head. “Rome is not the most salubrious city, as grand as it is.”
“Nonsense. It is vibrant and robust.” Donata rubbed my arm with her gloved hand. “So many eras in history, and yet the people here live firmly in the present. Or is this friend a young woman you do not wish me to know about?”
Now it was my turn to be surprised. Her tone was offhand, indicating she did not speak in earnest, but there was a watchfulness in her eyes that bothered me. Her first husband had been unfaithful to her from the day of their wedding until the morning he was killed.
“Not at all. It is Signor Proietti. I wrote you of him.”
Her expression cleared. “Yes, whose daughter has been lured away. Have you news of her for him?”
“No, unfortunately. I am going to ask Proietti a favor. Though perhaps I should let him be.”
“Do not treat the poor man as though he is an invalid. Perhaps this favor will help him take his mind off things until you can bring his daughter home to him.”
I huffed a skeptical laugh. “Do you believe I can? Trevisan is an odd man, and a very determined one.”
“I know you well, Gabriel. You will leave no stone unturned.”
If she knew me well, she’d know I’d never dream of going to another woman. “I suppose you are right,” I conceded. “And I suppose I am still smarting over what danger my last investigations put our son into.”
Peter, a vigorous lad, had quickly recovered from his ordeal and spoke about it as a good adventure. His mother, however, who’d been faced with the real possibility of losing her child, had been inconsolable for a long time and very, very angry.
“I believe I have told you that the incident was not your fault.” Her words were crisp. “I hold Mr. Denis and Mr. Creasy entirely to blame. Using a young boy in their war against each other, and a boy who is a viscount at that … Mr. Creasy was a bloody fool.” Rage filled her voice, in the cold way of Donata’s anger.
We walked a few steps in silence before I said, “I did not have the chance to tell you that Denis is here in Rome.”
Donata’s falter would have been indiscernible to any but me. “Is he? He wrote to me from Florence.”
“He came because he is incensed at de Luca’s murder and fears de Luca had information that might expose his agents.”
“Hmm. Well, if this information only exposed Mr. Denis, I would say wash your hands of it. But some of these agents might be working for him under duress and do not need more trouble.”
“Precisely my thoughts.”
“I imagined they were. You always strive to help others.”
“Because I never know when to leave off,” I said with some bitterness.
Donata squeezed my arm. “That was not an admonishment. It is a reason I admire you so much.”
