Giovanni seemed to think on his response for a time before he said, “I am a bastard.It is why my name is my mother’s and not...his,” he added.
“If it had been his, what would your name be?”
Lifting his chin, Giovanni replied, “D’Avalos.”
His suspicions confirmed, Patrick remembered the name Armenia had used for her older brother.“Enrico?”he guessed.He had no idea how many other men might have been part of the D’Avalos line living in the palazzo.
Giovanni’s eyes briefly rounded.“Sì.How did you...?”He glanced towards the door, as if he worried their conversation might not be private.
“DonnaArmenia D’Avalos...uh, your aunt, implied it was a possibility.”Patrick watched as the manservant rose from his knees and stood staring at something in his mind’s eye.“It is my intention to take her to wife,” he added, curious to see how the young man would react.
“Marry her?”Giovanni repeated.
“Yes.I...uh, find myself quite in love with her.”He cleared his throat.“Which is why your mother’s comment about her this morning has me...rather concerned.”
Taking a step backwards, the stockings still hanging from one hand, Giovanni shook his head.“My mother is a...abusybody,” he said, as if he struggled for the English word.“A gossip.Do not heed her slander.”
Narrowing his eyes, Patrick regarded his servant for a time before he finally nodded.“All right.But usually, where there is smoke, there is fire,” he murmured, hoping Giovanni would understand his point.
For a moment, the servant glanced about the room, his manner becoming that of a caged animal.“I will tell you what I know, but...”
“But...what?”Patrick prompted.
“I should not.”
“Because you are a loyal servant?”
Giovanni nodded vigorously.
“But you are employed by me now.Who was your employer before I hired you?”Although there had been a character provided to him by the service registry he had used to hire the Riccis, he hadn’t read it.At the time, he didn’t think he could understand the derivation of Latin used in the document.
Now he knew better.
“I heard things.Overheard things when I worked at his lordship’s residence.”
Patrick inhaled sharply.“You worked for the Conte Enrico D’Avalos?”he asked in surprise.“I thought your mother had been dismissed?—”
“Sì.She worked in another household,” Giovanni said.“When I was old enough, I went to the butler at Villa D’Avalos and was hired as a footman.I worked there until...”He lifted a shoulder.“Until I was mistaken for his lordship’s son.”
Patrick sighed.“Having met the current conte last evening, I can say there is definitely a family resemblance,” he murmured.“And these conversations you overheard?Were they injurious toDonnaArmenia?”
Giovanni once again glanced towards the closed door.“Not because of anythingshedid,” he whispered.“Of her own accord, I mean to say,” he quickly added.“The conte, though, he...”Here Giovanni swallowed.“He allowed his friends to court her even though they had no intention of ever marrying her.”The way he said the word ‘court’ implied an entirely different meaning.“I once saw him accept a purse full of lira so a visiting aristocrat could spend the night with her.”
Bile rose in Patrick’s throat before he could swallow it, the bitter aftertaste a perfect companion for the rage that swept through him.“It is fortunate for the late conte that he is already dead, or I would see to it by my own hands,” he said in a hoarse whisper.“He was supposed to be her protector.Not her...herpimp.”
“Sì,” Giovanni agreed.“I do not believe the current conte?—”
“Your brother,” Patrick interrupted.
“—is like his...ourfather.”
“He had better not be.”Patrick was briefly reminded that the ball he had attended the night before had been in honor of Edoardo’s daughter’s come-out.Until the girl was married, Armenia would be assisting with her attendance at various entertainments.She had invited him to dinner, which meant there either wasn’t something already scheduled or it was due to start later that night.“I have been invited to dinner at Villa D’Avalos tomorrow evening,” he added.“If you could be sure my dinner clothes are brushed out, I would appreciate it.”
“Sì,” Giovanni replied.“Do you require anything else,signore?”
Patrick shook his head.“That will be all until morning.”Before the servant could reach the door, he asked, “Did you ever tell your mother what you discovered aboutDonnaArmenia?”
Giovanni turned around, his head dropping so his chin nearly touched his chest.“I did not.”
Patrick winced, realizing it was the gossip among the household servants that had led to Signora Ricci’s assessment of Armenia.
She might have been no better than a prostitute—a courtesan—in the eyes of the aristocrats who bedded her with her brother’s permission, but that didn’t make her a whore in his eyes.
The proof would be his proposal.At some point during his appointments on the morrow, he would have to pay a call at a jeweler.
He needed a betrothal ring.And roses.Lots of roses.
