Grenville did not notice our silent exchange. “The cook is once more ensconced in de Luca’s kitchen, making wonderful meals.”
“Surprising he doesn’t seek another house to work in,” I said relaxing back into my chair.
Grenville shrugged. “It might be difficult for him to find other employment. Even proved innocent, an arrest stains one.”
That was true. I hoped de Luca’s cousin simply accepted the cook as part of the house and carried on.
“Gian will also help Trevisan in his task,” Grenville went on. “I suspect Gian of being completely hand in glove with de Luca, but he makes out that he is genuinely shocked and of course wants to return all the items to where they belong.”
Gian could play both sides of the coin—the lackey who had no idea what his master had been up to, and the heir who would receive what part of the collection de Luca and his family legitimately owned. I silently wished him well.
The rest of the visit was a bit more relaxed, Cockburn returning to the theme of traveling to London and working to remove the taint from his brother’s name. He planned to make certain the investors were paid back for Broadhurst’s sins, using the money Broadhurst had managed to smuggle out of the country. I had the feeling that here, Denis would be of the most help.
When Cockburn departed, I returned to my chair after our farewells, still tired from my illness. I did not have much time to rest, however, because Gautier ushered in more visitors—Proietti and his wife—and vanished to bring more coffee.
After the lengthy greetings inquiring about my health and Signora Proietti advising me on remedies sure to bring back my strength—one involving raw eggs, hot peppers, and plenty of brandy—we settled into conversation.
My wife was taken with Signora Proietti and she with her. Signora Proietti tried to be very deferential to her until Donata firmly tucked her hand through Signora Proietti’s arm and pulled her to sit on the sofa.
“Conte Trevisan has asked me to help him go through Conte de Luca’s collection,” Proietti said as soon as the polite greetings were finished. “He found even more in the houses behind de Luca’s, vast statues from palazzos all over the peninsula. He is pleased—as much as Trevisan can be said to be pleased.”
“Ah,” I said. “Then he has warmed to you. I am glad.”
Proietti made a self-deprecating chuckle. “Warmis not the word I would choose. He continues to believe I am an ineffectual father but has said that if I prove myself in his task, he believes he can procure employment for me. He has many friends, all of them quite wealthy.”
“Which will be a boon,” Signora Proietti broke in. “We cannot pretend otherwise.”
“I also think my daughter has put in a good word for me.” Proietti’s smile turned rueful. “When Trevisan is finished here, he will be going back to Milan. His mother is not well, he tells me, and she wishes to be among her friends and family … when the time comes.”
The contessa had been very certain her end was near. I hoped for her sake it would be a peaceful one.
“Will your daughter …?”
I could not finish the question, but Signora Proietti beamed at me.
“Gisela will be coming home to us once the conte has gone. She is staying only to tend the contessa.”
“No more charade about Trevisan marrying her?” I asked.
“No,” Proietti answered. “Though I know he was tempted to make her a permanent part of his family.” He grew pensive. “Gisela vows that she knew the conte and contessa were fond of her only because she reminded them of the conte’s daughter. But the situation was not so simple, and I know this. So does Gisela. Trevisan is a complicated man. Gisela is prepared to return home, but I see the pain in her eyes. I believe she truly fell in love with him.”
“She is a brave lass and tenderhearted,” her mother finished softly. “If romantic. I hope that we can find someone worthy of her.”
“She will mend,” Donata said with conviction. “In time, she will speak of it as a whim of youth.” Her voice softened. “The Trevisans, I think, will not mend.”
“Yes, the poor things,” Signora Proietti said. “The contessa pretends to be so arrogant, but her heart was broken.”
As my wife and the Proiettis continued to converse, I faded a bit, recalling how Trevisan had come to speak to me before I’d left his house, as the fever had begun to seize me. He’d waited until I was alone then had stood before me.
“I thank you, Captain Lacey,” Trevisan had said stiffly. “For what you have done for my mother.”
I tried to laugh. “If anything, I served as a post for men to hit, so that they would not strike her. My rescue attempt was feeble.”
Trevisan’s mouth quirked into a thin smile, the first softness I’d seen on his face. “But successful.” He swallowed. “I meant, I am grateful for letting her die in peace.”
“She has suffered quite a lot,” I said quietly. “I do not say that de Luca deserved death, but she struck out in anger and never meant to kill him.”
Trevisan huffed, his smile deserting him. He drew a breath as though to correct me, then released it. “As you say. I will finish as quickly as I can here and take her home.”
