Sad. Yes, Trevisan did seem deeply sad, behind his chilly demeanor and high-handed ways. Perhaps he could not face the inevitable loss of his wife and had sought Gisela as consolation.
“I will take as a point in his favor that Trevisan did not object to you coming home to visit your father,” Donata said. “He did not try to stop you, did he?”
“Not at all.” Gisela’s answer was swift and strong. “He believes Papa is wrong to try to dissuade me, but he understands I cannot be cut off from my family.”
Either that or Trevisan did not fear Proietti’s powers of persuasion. Gisela had made up her mind to be with Conte Trevisan, and Trevisan must have noted her strong will.
Gisela deflated once more. “His mother took a bit more convincing.”
I predicted a battle of wills between wife and mother-in-law if Trevisan actually did marry Gisela.
“I would be interested in visiting Trevisan’s mother,” Donata said. “I might have mutual acquaintance with her, if they are from Milan.”
Gisela started, then looked pleased. “I will inquire, madame. I am certain she will be happy for the interest of a great lady.”
“You are quite charming, Signorina Proietti. It is no surprise that both the conte and his mother enjoy you living in their house. You must be a breath of fresh air.”
This seemed to bewilder Gisela. “I try to be polite. My mother raised me to be.”
Her eyes moistened with sudden tears. Her mother was notably absent.
“Your mother succeeded admirably. Please do convey my good wishes to the contessa and have her send word whether she will allow me to call on her.”
“I will, madame.”
There seemed to be no question that Gisela would return to Trevisan’s house. If her father had hoped he’d argue her into remaining here, he now saw those hopes dashed. His shoulders drooped, a man defeated.
“A moment, Signorina,” I said to Gisela. “Your father tells me you met Conte Trevisan in a church. Which church?”
Gisela turned to me in puzzlement. “Sant’Agnese en Agone,” she answered. “In the Piazza Navona.”
The very church where I’d spied Mr. Broadhurst the first morning I’d walked in Rome. Interesting.
“Do you attend there often?” I asked.
“Saint Agnes is my patron saint,” Gisela explained with patience. “That church has a relic of her, and I pray to her there. Conte Trevisan saw me one morning and asked one of the priests, who knows my family, to introduce me to him and his mother.”
What could be more respectable than an introduction made by a family’s clergyman? Trevisan had chosen his opportunity well.
Donata’s skirts rustled as she moved her feet from footstool to floor and rose. “You have a lovely home here, Signorina Proietti. Will you show me more of it? The captain came here, in fact, to ask your father’s advice, and we ladies rather usurped his purpose. Shall we wander while they speak?”
I doubted Gisela had any desire to take Donata over the house, but as I’d observed, she was a lady of fine manners. She immediately agreed and offered Donata her arm.
Donata took it and they sailed out, Donata not bothering to look my way as she went.
“Please accept my apologies for interrupting you,” I said to Proietti as soon as the manservant had closed the door from the other side. “You must have been very glad when your daughter turned up.”
Proietti heaved a sigh and headed for the wine jug. “I was indeed. I’d despaired of ever seeing her again. You instructed Trevisan to set a meeting with me to discuss things, but I have yet to hear of it.”
“So I gathered. He followed me to Napoli, claiming he had business inthatcity as well.”
“He possibly did.” Proietti trickled wine into a glass for himself. I had yet to taste mine. “He does business in many cities. Sometimes even his own.” Proietti did not disguise the scorn in his voice. He set down the jug and drank deeply then faced me. “Your wife said you wished my advice.”
“Your help, rather.” I outlined what had happened at de Luca’s house and how Trevisan, then the police captain had admonished me to discover what had occurred. “My knowledge of your language is poor, and it would help to have a local man assisting me. That is, if you do not object. I have no right to claim your time.”
Proietti swept his arm about the room, wine spattering from his cup. “My wife has left Rome, my daughter insists on living with that conceited northerner, and I sit here and fret. I have more time than I want. Of course, I will assist you, Captain. That is, if you do not believeImurdered de Luca myself.”
I sent him a look of astonishment. “Why would you say that?”
