“I was hoping to look around,” she said. She tried to make her voice wistful, as if she were merely interested in acquiring a few tokens to remind her of her fiancé. She didn’t want to tell the men she had spoken to Luca earlier. They would not approve of her bribing the Palazzo Ducale jailer.
“Go ahead. The soldiers came to search the place this morning. We’ve done our best to return everything to its place.”
Cass’s stomach tightened. So the soldiers had been here. She could only hope they had not discovered the key.
Siena trailed behind her as Cass pushed open the thick wooden door to the study. It swung inward, creaking on its rusted hinges. She went immediately to the fireplace. Kneeling on the tile floor, she peered up into the darkness of the chimney. She reached a gloved hand into the flue. Soot rained down, blackening her glove and making her cough. She examined the entire fireplace, running her hands across the bricks, wondering if maybe she’d misunderstood Luca’s words.
Then her fingers skimmed a rough edge. She paused and peered closer. Once again, she traced a finger of her dirty glove over the thin strip of mortar between two of the bricks at the back of the fireplace.
One of the bricks was definitely loose. She jiggled it, biting her lip to keep from crying out as the brick fell into her hand, exposing a hollow space at the back of the fireplace. Cass reached back into the dark opening. Her fingers closed around something wrapped in fabric. She pulled it out for examination. It was a bright red bundle. Inside it was a key.
Siena sucked in a breath. “Whose crest is that?” She pointed at the carving of a lion holding a shield. “The da Peraga family?”
Cass shook her head. Her mouth was dry. “It’s mine,” she croaked out. “It’s the Caravello crest.” She had seen the emblem on sashes and wall hangings and even some of the dinner napkins she had used as a child.
Turning the key over in her hands, she ran one finger along the dulled edges of its teeth. How did her mother come to possess documents from a mysterious Order? Why had she hidden them among the dead?
When Cass and Siena arrived back at the villa, there was another surprise waiting for them: a wide blue boat with long leather privacy curtains was tied up at Agnese’s splintering dock. A black silk banner emblazoned with a gold griffin holding a flaming sword was mounted on the stern of the boat. The word victory was splashed across the sword’s blade.
The rage that Cass had been fighting all day threatened to overwhelm her. She knew that crest. She had seen the blue boat before. “What is Joseph Dubois doing here?” she spat out.
She didn’t even wait for Siena to exit the gondola behind her. She kicked off her chopines as she ran across the damp lawn, sprinting up the stairs and into the portego. Dubois was sitting across the table from her aunt Agnese, sipping from one of Agnese’s painted teacups. They both looked up at Cass in surprise.
“Haven’t you done enough?” Cass burst out. Blades of wet grass fell from the hem of her skirts onto the clean portego floor. “Letting thieves and murderers go free while sending an innocent man to the gallows? Now you’ve come all the way out here to revel in our misery? Is that it?”
“Cassandra!” Agnese cried out, shocked.
Dubois looked unfazed. “Signorina Caravello,” he said, rising from his seat to bow. “Your passion is so like your mother’s.”
“You have no right to speak of my mother,” Cass said, wishing her voice wouldn’t shake.
Agnese looked as though her eyes were about to pop out of her head. “I apologize, Signore,” she said quickly. “I can’t imagine what has made my niece behave in such a fashion.” She turned back to Cass, scowling so deeply that her silvery eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead.
“It’s all right, Signora Querini,” Dubois said. “Young Signorina Caravello is under a great deal of stress. Perhaps, Signorina, it will please you to know that we have apprehended the man responsible for Sophia Garzolo’s death. He is scheduled to be hanged at sunset exactly a fortnight from now.”
Footsteps sounded on the main staircase. Siena burst into the portego with Cass’s chopines dangling from one hand. She froze when she saw Dubois. Dropping her eyes to the floor, she backed quickly against the wall.
“And what man is that?” Cass asked, raising her chin and meeting Dubois’s stare. What other poor unfortunate soul had crossed the Frenchman and ended up sentenced to death?
“Signor Carmino, the estate butler. I was very surprised to find out he had been . . . harassing several female members of my staff. I assume he was trying to court Signorina Garzolo.” Dubois examined his nails. “Things must not have gone his way.”
Cass fought a feeling of revulsion. She did not believe a single word that came out of Dubois’s mouth. “And did this man explain why he took the time to carve an X in the poor girl’s chest?” she challenged. If Dubois was going to send another innocent man to die, Cass wanted him to understand that she knew it.
Dubois raised his shoulders slightly. He managed to make even a shrug look regal. “Who can understand the mind of a criminal?” He sipped from his teacup. “The important thing is that Signor Carmino is going to hang for his crime. Justice will be served.” He set his cup down onto the gold-rimmed saucer with a delicate clink.
“Speaking of justice,” Cass said, her voice turning to acid, “perhaps you can explain to me why my fiancé was carted off to the Doge’s prisons the day after seeking an audience with you.”
Signor Dubois tilted his head just slightly. “Signorina Caravello,” he said piteously, reaching out toward her, “I can assure you I was as stunned to hear about his arrest as you were.”
Cass pulled her hand out of Dubois’s reach. “And are you also stunned to hear of his impending execution, just a month from today? Certainly you must not have known or you wouldn’t have been so cruel as to pay us a visit and speak so cavalierly of a hanging.”
“I apologize. I was unaware a sentence had already been handed down.” Dubois’s eyes flicked around the room. They landed on Siena, who was still pressed against the corner. She appeared to be growing paler with each breath. Soon she would fade completely into the white marble. “But actually I came here because I heard rumor that you or your lady’s maid might have heard from Feliciana Minorita, my missing servant.” Signor Dubois’s eyes went dark for a second; his voice dropped in pitch. “You see, I would do almost anything to have her back.”
seven
“The crypts of Venice are overrun with willing corpses waiting to be harvested for the good of science.”
—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE
Anything, including lie or kill, Cass thought.
“Cassandra, is this true?” Agnese asked. “Has Feliciana been found?”
Cass shook her head quickly, praying that Siena wouldn’t collapse on the floor in a heap. “No, Aunt Agnese. Most likely, someone saw me talking to Siena and mistook her for her sister.”
The sisters looked alike from the back, or had anyway, before Feliciana’s hair had been shorn from her scalp. It was a plausible story, and Agnese seemed convinced. But Dubois was staring hard at Siena, as if he thought she might shatter under his gaze.
“Is there anything else we can help you with, Signor Dubois?” Cass asked quickly.
Dubois stood up, running a hand through his gray-streaked hair. “It is I who should be offering my assistance to you in this time of crisis,” he murmured. “Do contact me if you hear from Signorina Minorita. And of course, I am at your disposal if you think of anything I can do for you.”