Siena and Eva sat quietly next to the girls, conversing in whispers. Feliciana had stayed at Palazzo Alioni to prove herself to the mistress of the house. The regular washwoman was still sick, and Signora Alioni didn’t want her anywhere near the palazzo until she was feeling better. Feliciana had quickly offered to spend the evening scrubbing linens and chemises.
The city streets gave way to dirt roads and scattered estates. Cass fixated on the twin clock towers of the little church that sat almost directly across the street from Belladonna’s winding drive. The towers grew, and then the magnificent stone villa appeared through the trees. Once again, Cass couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath. The sun was just beginning to set, giving the whole structure a magical, otherworldly look.
The girls stepped out of the carriage and into a festively decorated portego, with ribbons adorning the Roman sculptures and large vases of Belladonna’s vibrant roses sitting on every flat surface. Siena and Eva excused themselves and headed toward the kitchen, where most of the Villa Briani staff would be located. Cass handed her cloak to the butler and loitered in the portego, watching the well-dressed Florentines chat and mingle. The necklines were higher and the pearls were smaller than what she commonly saw in Venice, but it was nonetheless obvious that Belladonna’s friends were extremely wealthy.
At the far side of the room, a string quartet performed and a few guests—including Pale and Scarlet from tea the previous day—were beginning to dance. Cass sighed. Belladonna had made it sound like this evening would be another intimate gathering, but half of Florence appeared to be in attendance.
Falco appeared in the doorway that led to the back of the villa, and Cass felt drawn to him like a fly to a spider’s web. Then she thought of Belladonna posed exactly as she had been, and hesitated. Should she ignore him? Did she have a right to be angry? Was she just upset at the whole world? Her feelings were all tangled up.
A decision was made for her: Falco began to move in her direction. Cass turned to offer Madalena a word of explanation or excuse—certain that she would disapprove—but Mada was deep in conversation with a pair of men Marco’s age, and just as Cass touched her shoulder, one of the men asked Mada to dance.
Perfect. Cass retreated into a corner, hiding behind a sculpture of Venus where Madalena wouldn’t see her, and where she and Falco could converse in relative privacy. When Falco got closer, they both opened their mouths to speak at once.
“Your twin, I presume?” Falco said, gesturing toward the Venus.
Cass realized she and the sculpture both had their arms folded across their midsection. She dropped her hands to her side. “I just—”
“Come with me.” Falco didn’t wait for her to answer. He placed his hand on the small of her back as if he were merely helping her navigate the crowded portego. Once he hit the hallway at the back of the room, he twined his fingers through hers and whisked her into a small study, latching the door behind them. The walls of the room were painted dark gray and the furniture was made of a sturdy mahogany. He turned to her. “Now, at least, we can speak in private.”
Cass’s whole body felt simultaneously shivery and warm, as it always did when she and Falco were alone together. She avoided looking at him. “I just want you to know, I stayed at the execution only because one of the victims was Hortensa Zanotta, the woman who accused Luca of heresy back in Venice,” she said. “She was my best chance to prove his innocence.” She risked a glance at him.
Falco’s face tightened. “Of course,” he said stiffly. Then he sighed, and rubbed at the scar under his eye. “I’m sorry, Cass. I said things I didn’t mean. It’s not fair of me to expect you to share my beliefs when we—”
“Come from two different worlds?” she finished softly.
Falco groaned. “Don’t do that.” He took a step toward her. “Are we really so different?”
“Aren’t we?” She could hardly breathe. He was so close. She could see silver threading through his blue eyes. Impulsively, she reached out with one hand to brush his hair away from his face.
Falco grabbed her without warning. He spun her around him so that her body was pressed up against the wall. Cass’s heart leapt into her throat. She knew she should protest, should turn away.
But she didn’t.
She surrendered. To Falco. To what she wanted more than anything. His mouth teased her, tasting her tongue and lips. She pulled him closer, her nails digging into the fabric of his tunic. He pinned her hands above her head as his mouth found the spot where her jaw met her throat. She exhaled hard. Her body threatened to slide right down the wall, but she didn’t push him away. She couldn’t. She angled her head to expose more of her neck. She felt his warm mouth, his soft tongue tracing circles on her skin.
“Come with me to my quarters,” he murmured.
Cass’s eyes snapped back open. No raised eyebrow, no lopsided smirk. He was serious.
“I can’t. I—”
“You can,” he insisted. “You want to. No one has to know, Cass.” His breath was hot against her lips. And her face. Her whole body was burning, like lightning was sizzling beneath her skin.
And then there was a burst of loud applause from outside the room.
Cass slipped out from between Falco and the wall, her heart thudding like the hooves of a runaway horse. “What was that?” she asked, not caring in the slightest.
She had come too close. Too close to giving in, to letting go. No one has to know. She had actually been considering it. Images tumbled through her head. Falco carrying her to his bed. Her fingers ripping his doublet from his chest. His hands tugging at the laces of her bodice. The two of them lying together, skin to skin.
“Cass.” He took a step toward her again. She dodged him, turned and escaped into the hallway, fanning her cheeks with one gloved hand. She didn’t want him to see the look on her face. She didn’t turn to look and see whether he had followed her.
Belladonna stood in the middle of the portego. “Esteemed guests. If you will all follow me into the dining room, the birthday feast can begin.”
So. A birthday celebration. No wonder so many people were in attendance. Bella had neglected to mention that little detail when she had invited Cass and Mada to return.
Falco materialized at Cass’s side. She didn’t have to turn her head; she could feel his heat next to her. “We’ll talk more later,” he murmured. “I’ll find you. I promise.” He melted into the crowd just before Madalena reappeared, giggling about a conversation she’d been having with a young duke.
In the dining room, the two girls found tiny placards with their names inked in swirling letters. They had been seated just a few chairs down from Belladonna herself. Midway through the feast, Signor Mafei interrupted the meal with a wrapped package that had just arrived via messenger.
Belladonna’s eyes lit up. “I suppose one never does outgrow a love of presents.” She turned to Cass abruptly. “How old do you think I am?”
Cass felt her face go bright red. She twisted and untwisted the napkin in her lap, wishing she could melt into the swirling colors of the Oriental rug beneath her feet. Because of the stories she’d been told, she knew Belladonna had to be at least thirty, but could she really say that without offending her? Cass decided to play it safe. “You don’t look but a few years older than I am,” she said. “Twenty perhaps?”