“Possibly. I’ve seen the formidable men she employs to keep her safe, but yes, she could be the next target.”
“If she did not murder Gallo herself, or had it done.”
“That, too, is a possibility,” I conceded.
We again sat in silence, the cathedral quietly stalwart.
I had to admit, I felt a bit helpless. I was not in a city I knew and had no access to the people I often called upon to help me. Grenville and Donata were making their enquiries, and Bartholomew aided me with reports from gossipy servants, but I did not want to risk any of them to a person who thought nothing of stabbing a man out in the open.
I did have Brewster, but he’d once been shot trying to defend me, a situation I did not want to repeat. Having to explain his injury to Mrs. Brewster had been one of the most intimidating things I’d ever done.
“I will try to gain entrance to the villa Signora Ruggeri was given,” I said, thinking of Grenville’s suggestion that she might have taken Gallo’s papers there. “My wife has already made her acquaintance, and she might be able to invent an excuse to get us inside. I can search, as can my man.” I nodded at Brewster, who was studying the carvings on the cathedral’s stone walls, hands behind his back.
“You find it necessary to employ a bodyguard?” Moreau asked me. “One who obviously was once a criminal?”
“Others believe it necessary, including Brewster himself,” I said. “I am wont to plunge myself into perilous situations.”
“And very good at surviving them,” Moreau observed.
“Too stubborn to know when to die. As I mentioned, so said my commander when I finally returned to camp.”
“One day, you must tell me this story,” Moreau said. “You are a man of great resilience.”
“Or amazing luck.” I heaved myself to my feet. “I will send word if I find anything.”
Moreau rose easily beside me. “Perhaps you can contrive for me to enter the villa as well. Another pair of hands can make the search go faster.”
Two days ago, I hadn’t wanted this man anywhere near me. Now I contemplated him, an able gentleman with an interest in assisting his lady, as a possible ally.
I nodded. “I will send you word. In the meantime, thank you for your information. It has been most enlightening.”
We regarded each other awkwardly, two men who’d been enemies in the past but were not quite friends, uncertain how to behave in this in-between state.
“Good day, Captain.” Moreau tipped his hat to me.
“Colonel.” I tipped mine as well, and then we strolled from the bench and across the square in opposite directions.
Donata was awake by the time I returned, making ready for her afternoon and evening outings.
She cornered me in the dining room where I’d retreated for a brandy, tired after my eventful morning.
“Bartholomew tells me you rushed away with Emile earlier,” she said without preliminary. “And that Emile was very upset. What the devil happened?”
I set down my goblet and dabbed moisture from my lips.
“His family tried to call off the wedding. But everything is well now.”
Donata’s mouth popped open, then a frown erased her shock. She pulled out a chair next to mine and dropped into it. “Tell me everything. Instantly.”
I complied. I watched Donata’s fury grow as I related the tale and then her relief at its conclusion.
“I know you can never be fond of Major Auberge, Gabriel, but he has his uses.” Donata accepted a cup of coffee Bartholomew had brought for her, he lingering to listen. “Thank heaven he turned up.”
“I’m certain he was looking for Emile,” I said. “Fearing Emile would do something rash, as he did, begging me to take him and Gabriella to Scotland to elope.”
“We can arrange something like that if it becomes necessary,” Donata said with her crisp practicality. “Auberge has defused the situation for now, at least.”
Grenville arrived and seated himself as I told Donata what I’d learned from Moreau and Beaumont about Potier.
