“Scusi,” Cass said. “I was looking for a blonde woman. Did she come in here?”
“Many blonde women come in here,” the boy said. “Personally, I like dark hair.” He winked and held up a bolt of satin. “Would you like to be fitted for a gown?”
Cass blushed. She stepped backward and nearly knocked a cloth-draped wooden form from its pedestal. Siena had been hovering just inside the door, fingering a display of lace cuffs and collars. She looked up in time to see Cass stumble, and tittered quietly.
“Perhaps another time,” Cass said. She could feel the boy’s eyes on her as she hurried back out to the piazza with Siena in tow.
“I think he liked you,” Siena teased.
Cass gave her a dark look. That was the last thing she needed—another boy to add to the mix. “I think he just liked my gold,” she said.
They tried the bakery next. The walls were painted a soothing pink, and the whole place smelled of olive oil and freshly baked bread. A three-tiered pastry platter sat on the countertop, each level filled with a different flavor of tart. The shop was empty except for the baker, who was wrapping up a purchase, and a woman who was arranging her coins on the counter, her back facing the door. She was tall and blonde, with an elaborately braided hairdo.
Cass froze for a second. Her heart pounded in double time as she approached the woman.
“Signorina Cass—” Siena had wandered up to the counter to admire the selection of pastries.
Cass held up a hand and Siena fell quiet. “Excuse me.” Cass gently touched the woman’s shoulder.
The woman looked up from the counter. “Yes?” she asked with a curious smile.
Cass’s heart plummeted into her stomach. It wasn’t Hortensa.
“Mi dispiace,” Cass murmured. “I thought you were someone else.”
The woman took her purchase from the baker and smiled again as she left the shop. Reluctantly, Siena turned away from the platter of tarts.
Cass pulled a copper coin from her leather pouch. “Let’s get a couple of pastries, shall we?” she said. “Then the morning won’t be a total loss.”
She paid the baker, who unfortunately had not heard of the Zanottas, for two pastries and handed the larger one to Siena. They returned to the square to find Madalena clutching a shiny golden box with a scarlet ribbon. “I bought the pearls,” she gushed. “Marco won’t mind. He’s been saying he wanted to take me shopping. This way I did all the work for him.”
Cass sighed. At least someone was getting something accomplished.
After dinner, Madalena frowned when Cass said she was heading to the piazza. “Again, Cass? I was hoping you might want to come with me to tea,” she said. “Stella’s gotten us an invitation to Palazzo di Alighieri. The signora is descended from the writer Dante.”
Cass had thoroughly enjoyed La Davina Commedia and would have loved to go to tea with Signora di Alighieri, but Luca had less than three weeks to live. “I really have to go back, Mada,” Cass said. “Luca is depending on me.”
Madalena frowned, and Cass could tell she wanted to say more. Mada probably thought Cass’s quest to save Luca was insane, and that Cass should just start to accept the reality that her fiancé would be executed.
She wasn’t ready to do that. She would never be ready.
So the two girls went their separate ways. Siena dutifully followed Cass out to the square and walked beside her as she continued going from shop to shop, asking the shopkeepers if they knew of Donna Hortensa Zanotta. Both a jeweler and a weaver were familiar with the name, but neither could tell Cass where she lived.
Feliciana found them at the hottest point of the afternoon. The sun shined down on the dark stones of the piazza, making the heat radiate up through the soles of Cass’s shoes. She fanned herself desperately, almost as warm as she had been the day she visited Luca in the Doge’s prison.
“The mistress and Madalena have returned from tea and want to know if you’ll be joining us for the evening meal,” Feliciana said. Turning to her sister, she added, “Signora Alioni thought maybe we could help her get caught up on washing the linens. Her washwoman is ill.”
Cass was starving, but she’d questioned only three-quarters of the shop owners and wanted to speak with all of them before the sun went down. She felt like if she left the piazza, she’d miss her one chance to find out something that could help Luca. Someone had to have seen the donna. “I’m just going to buy some bread from a vendor,” Cass said. “But go ahead, Siena. I’ll be all right.” She didn’t want to keep Siena from a chance to spend time with her sister.
“But Signorina Cass . . .” Siena flicked her eyes from Feliciana to Cass, her lips twisting into a frown. Finally she followed her sister back toward Palazzo Alioni.
Cass watched her leave and then returned to the bakery, where she bought a fresh loaf of bread and a crock of honey. Spreading her skirts around her, she sat on the low wall that ran around the periphery of the piazza and watched the people pass before her in all directions. Many of the women wore gloves, but Cass checked all the uncovered hands for rings with the flower insignia. When she finished eating, she tossed the remnants of her crust of bread to the cobblestones for the birds to pick at and resumed quizzing anyone who would listen to her about Hortensa. The sun passed across the sky and started to set, and still, Cass had learned nothing.
“The name Zanotta sounds familiar . . .” A tall woman with her hair wrapped into a high cone on her head fiddled with one of her lace cuffs. “A donna, you say? Is she related to the Padua Zanottas?”
“I’m not certain,” Cass said. “But thank you for your time.” She had just caught sight of a boy with a thick leather sack slung across his chest. A messenger! If anyone knew where to find Hortensa, he would.
The boy wore a black cap pulled low over his ears and a thin chemise covered by only a doublet hanging open. He pulled a small canteen from his satchel and took a long gulp, wiping his mouth with one hand as he recapped the bottle.
“Excuse me,” Cass called as she hurried across the piazza. She waved one of her gloved hands in the messenger’s direction, but he didn’t seem to notice her. He turned and headed toward the corner of the piazza.
Cass swore under her breath. She ran after him, clumsily cutting between the throngs of people. She pushed past a man with a long braided beard who was peddling necklaces made of dark green stones and nearly tripped over a peasant woman who had bent down to tend to her child. Luckily, the messenger stopped to take another swig from his canteen and Cass managed to catch up. She reached out and clamped a hand down on his shoulder.
He looked up in surprise. “Bongiorno. Do you have a letter you wish to be delivered?”
Cass paused for a moment to catch her breath. “Actually, I’m looking for someone. Donna Hortensa Zanotta. A Venetian.”
The messenger frowned. “Palazzo Zanotta. I know it. It is south of the Piazza della Signoria, just north of the Arno. Down one of the side streets. A bit tricky to locate.”
Cass was so excited, she could have kissed him. She repeated the directions to herself so that she wouldn’t forget. Casting a quick glance back at Palazzo Alioni, Cass decided to pay a visit to Hortensa immediately. She wasn’t convinced she could get the donna to admit to lying, but knew there was a greater chance Hortensa would tell her the truth if Cass went to see her alone. Besides, Siena was probably still doing chores with Feliciana, and Cass didn’t want to steal away her handmaid’s limited time with her sister.
Don Zanotta’s Florentine palazzo wasn’t quite as majestic as his home in Venice, but the walls were painted a smooth gray, and carved stonework decorated the façade. Cass felt her heart start thrumming as she knocked boldly on the front door. What if Hortensa refused to receive her?