throat. Bruises must be forming even now. What must he think? “A bit knocked about. I … I hope your master is well.” He had, after all saved her life tonight.
The thought struck her forcibly. She should be grateful to him. How dreadful.
But he had done it only because he thought she had the stone in some bank and he would need her to retrieve it. That thought made her relax. She didn’t owe him anything.
“He is very … resilient,” Paolo observed. “Still, I should go to him.”
A woman appeared whose hair was just going gray under her cap and whose figure indicated a sincere and lasting love of pasta. She was fully dressed, even at this hour. Urbano no doubt kept them up to attend his every need no matter how late he returned.
“Sophia, just see to Miss Mulroney while I go up to the master,” Paolo said. “She’s lost everything in a fire, and we’re to provide. A trunk must be packed and ready by five.”
“He goes just before dawn?” Sophia asked, incredulous.
“Apparently there is no time to be lost.” He bowed to Kate and trotted up the stairs.
Sophia surveyed Kate and threw up her hands. “My poor child!” she clucked. “Whatever has happened to you?”
Kate looked down at her dress, its ethereal gray now streaked with real smoke, and its hem tattered in one place by … by flames? Had the fire been that close? Thank goodness for Urbano’s lust after the stone, or she would have burned to death. She looked a sight …
Her scar! She raised her hand to her cheek to hide it. She hadn’t noticed Sophia looking at it, and so had forgotten for a moment.
“Now, now, let’s just take that nasty dress off and get you a bath.” Sophia put her arm around Kate.
Perhaps a bath would be good. And Kate couldn’t escape looking like this with no money, and no clothes and no … anything. The enormity of her situation struck her. The stone couldn’t be cut. It was no good to her even if she did escape. Urbano could take it back any time as long as she was almost a captive in his house. She felt her eyes fill. She sniffed. She couldn’t be weak. Weakness attracted predators.
“Things will look better after a bath. And perhaps a few hours’ rest.”
Kate let the chattering woman lead her up the stairs. What else could she do?
* * *
“It must be difficult working for such a master,” Kate observed to Sophia, as she stepped into the steaming bath the servant girls had brought.
“In what way?” Sophia asked, handing her the soap.
“Well, he is so … arrogant … his callous disregard of your comfort…” She sank down into the water and let its warmth seep into her bones.
“Arrogant, yes, sometimes.” Sophia chuckled. “I think he has not heard the word ‘no’ enough in his life. But he never disregards our comfort.”
“But … keeping you up so late, just to attend to him at this odd hour…”
“Oh, we sleep in the day as he does.” Sophia bustled about. She had procured a night rail from somewhere, made of very delicate linen covered with fine white embroidery. It did not belong to a servant girl. Sophia laid it out on the bed. Perhaps it was part of the services provided by a first-rate gigolo. “He pays us most generously to keep his backward hours,” Sophia continued. “He has bought Paolo and me a house in my village, so we may have a place when we are old. My mother lives there now, and he pays her as caretaker.”
This was surprising. But no, he would have to buy their silence. His clients must be able to count on his discretion and that of his servants. Kate soaped her body, grateful to be clean again. “Does he stay up all night every night?” Such decadence!
“The poor man. He has an affliction. The sun burns his skin and hurts his eyes.” Sophia sighed. “The Lord has made him pay a terrible price for his beauty. He has only the night.”
That explained why he met his banker at midnight.
Kate stood and Sophia wrapped a towel
The thought struck her forcibly. She should be grateful to him. How dreadful.
But he had done it only because he thought she had the stone in some bank and he would need her to retrieve it. That thought made her relax. She didn’t owe him anything.
“He is very … resilient,” Paolo observed. “Still, I should go to him.”
A woman appeared whose hair was just going gray under her cap and whose figure indicated a sincere and lasting love of pasta. She was fully dressed, even at this hour. Urbano no doubt kept them up to attend his every need no matter how late he returned.
“Sophia, just see to Miss Mulroney while I go up to the master,” Paolo said. “She’s lost everything in a fire, and we’re to provide. A trunk must be packed and ready by five.”
“He goes just before dawn?” Sophia asked, incredulous.
“Apparently there is no time to be lost.” He bowed to Kate and trotted up the stairs.
Sophia surveyed Kate and threw up her hands. “My poor child!” she clucked. “Whatever has happened to you?”
Kate looked down at her dress, its ethereal gray now streaked with real smoke, and its hem tattered in one place by … by flames? Had the fire been that close? Thank goodness for Urbano’s lust after the stone, or she would have burned to death. She looked a sight …
Her scar! She raised her hand to her cheek to hide it. She hadn’t noticed Sophia looking at it, and so had forgotten for a moment.
“Now, now, let’s just take that nasty dress off and get you a bath.” Sophia put her arm around Kate.
Perhaps a bath would be good. And Kate couldn’t escape looking like this with no money, and no clothes and no … anything. The enormity of her situation struck her. The stone couldn’t be cut. It was no good to her even if she did escape. Urbano could take it back any time as long as she was almost a captive in his house. She felt her eyes fill. She sniffed. She couldn’t be weak. Weakness attracted predators.
“Things will look better after a bath. And perhaps a few hours’ rest.”
Kate let the chattering woman lead her up the stairs. What else could she do?
* * *
“It must be difficult working for such a master,” Kate observed to Sophia, as she stepped into the steaming bath the servant girls had brought.
“In what way?” Sophia asked, handing her the soap.
“Well, he is so … arrogant … his callous disregard of your comfort…” She sank down into the water and let its warmth seep into her bones.
“Arrogant, yes, sometimes.” Sophia chuckled. “I think he has not heard the word ‘no’ enough in his life. But he never disregards our comfort.”
“But … keeping you up so late, just to attend to him at this odd hour…”
“Oh, we sleep in the day as he does.” Sophia bustled about. She had procured a night rail from somewhere, made of very delicate linen covered with fine white embroidery. It did not belong to a servant girl. Sophia laid it out on the bed. Perhaps it was part of the services provided by a first-rate gigolo. “He pays us most generously to keep his backward hours,” Sophia continued. “He has bought Paolo and me a house in my village, so we may have a place when we are old. My mother lives there now, and he pays her as caretaker.”
This was surprising. But no, he would have to buy their silence. His clients must be able to count on his discretion and that of his servants. Kate soaped her body, grateful to be clean again. “Does he stay up all night every night?” Such decadence!
“The poor man. He has an affliction. The sun burns his skin and hurts his eyes.” Sophia sighed. “The Lord has made him pay a terrible price for his beauty. He has only the night.”
That explained why he met his banker at midnight.
Kate stood and Sophia wrapped a towel
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