Orsino’s name was given, but the Holy Father had no glance for him. “Madonna Giulia,” Rodrigo said formally, and gave me his hand. I bent my head to brush my lips against his ring, and his dark eyes crinkled at me in their old way, and my heart squeezed. Because my former lover had changed so much in only five months. There were deep new lines about his mouth and eyes, graved there by Juan’s death, I imagined, and the flesh about his neck hung in loose folds. His hair was entirely gray, and the skin had loosened over the knuckles of the hand he had presented me. But he smiled, and his smile had all its old energy. His fingers gave mine a squeeze and he lowered his voice. “You are looking well, mi perla.”

I could see him looking for the pearl he had given me, but I had looped a silver crucifix about my neck instead, an ornament belonging to Orsino’s grandmother. I had also made a point to dress my hair low and my neckline high, in just the kind of subdued gray satin gown that a virtuous wife should wear. Voluminous gray satin, too, to hide the belly that was supposed to be showing the first signs of Orsino’s child—I’d seen Rodrigo’s eyes flit to my stomach at once. “Your Holiness,” I said, taking my hand away with great firmness, and cast my eyes down.

I felt my husband let out a silent breath. Rodrigo looked at me a moment longer; I could feel his gaze as tangible as a touch, and more whispers went up along the Sala del Pappagallo. But I went on gazing serenely at the floor, and I heard Rodrigo sigh. “The little one,” he said, his gaze moving to Laura. “She has grown.”

I had coached my daughter for this moment, and she advanced with great gravity in her small gray satin gown, which was an exact copy of mine. “Your Holiness,” she piped, and curtsied as though she had never seen him before in her life, had never squealed with delight when he gave her a string of seed pearls for a present, had never looked at him in his horned mask and inquired if he was the Devil. But she smiled at him, and Rodrigo smiled back, and perhaps it was because I’d not seen them together in almost half a year, but I saw it. Holy Virgin help me, but they had the same smile.

Don’t see it, I prayed, and felt a cold shiver run down my back. Don’t see it, Rodrigo. Once I’d wanted nothing more than for him to believe Laura was his daughter in truth, but now . . .