Florence about being desperate to reconcile and then fallen into Belladonna’s arms the very next day? Cass wanted to believe she was
mistaken about the moment she had interrupted in the garden at
Villa Briani, but the looks Falco and Bella had exchanged . . . the
touches . . .
It was none of her business if he and his patroness were lovers, but
she also knew he would do his best to protest they were not.
And Cass would probably believe whatever he told her.
Then he would give her that lopsided smile. His fingers would
trace her collarbones, her jawline, they would find her hair and tug
softly. She imagined herself giving in, collapsing against his muscular
body as she had done several times before.
“It’s not as if we have a lot of options,” Feliciana said.
“You’re right, of course, but . . .” Cass shook her head, tried to
erase the image of her falling into Falco’s arms. Things were different
now. She was different.
Feliciana studied her with knowing eyes while she waited for
Cass’s response. “So you do still have feelings for him,” she said
coolly. “He is quite charming, I’ll admit. I was quite surprised when
he invited me to stay with him until I found other arrangements.”
“You’ve been staying with Falco?” Cass asked, her voice rising in
pitch.
A great gust of wind whipped a row of chemises back and forth on
the clothesline. Pale sleeves clawed at the misty air.
“For a couple of days until I found work,” Feliciana said. “He was
simply being a gentleman, that’s all.”
“Perhaps we could go to your new place of employment instead?”
Cass suggested, wondering how Feliciana had found work so quickly
while trying to dismiss the other thoughts that were flying through
her head. Feliciana’s words about Falco had been innocent enough,
but Cass knew exactly what happened when Falco brought women
back to Tommaso’s studio. So what if she loved Luca. That didn’t
mean she wanted to spend the night watching Falco make eyes at her
former handmaid.
“About that,” Feliciana said slowly. “I didn’t know how to tell you
before.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall next to the
stairs. “I’ve gone back to Palazzo Dubois.”
“What? How could you—Why on earth—” The words shot from
Cass’s mouth like crossbow darts.
“Cass.” Feliciana clapped her hands together. She tucked her
mourning veil back from her face. “We don’t all have a doting fiancé
and a handsome artist vying to take care of us. My sister is dead. I
thought you were dead. I’ve no family. This is temporary until I can
save enough money to return to Signora Alioni in Florence, but it’s
the best I can do, all right?”
“But he’s a killer,” Cass said. “How can you feel safe?” She
couldn’t believe this turn of events. Feliciana returning willingly to
Joseph Dubois’s employ . . .
“Joseph favors me—he always has. And he doesn’t realize how
much I know about the Order,” Feliciana said. “Honestly, it was
Cristian who scared me into leaving, always lurking around, watching me. What proof do you have that Joseph is a murderer that didn’t
spill forth from the lips of that madman?”
“Just Dubois’s involvement in the Order makes him a killer,” Cass
insisted.
The sky rumbled again with thunder. So far the rain had held off,
but the air had taken on a sudden chill.
“Not necessarily. You told me he had his physician dissect
corpses. Unsavory. Blasphemous, to be sure. But not murder.”
Cass could not believe Feliciana was defending Joseph Dubois.
“But he ordered the death of Sophia.”
“According to Cristian.”
“Why would he lie?” Cass asked.
“Because he’s a lunatic?”
Feliciana was wrong. Cass knew it. She knew it in her head and
her heart. Joseph Dubois was a monster. You didn’t have to spend but
five minutes with Dubois before the stink of evil became unbearable.
“He had Luca imprisoned.”
Feliciana pursed
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