I was so late returning, I thought I must have missed cena altogether. Hopefully Orsino and Vittorio hadn’t quarreled over the dishes of spiced pears and wild duck. Without my bright chatter for a cushion, my husband could be a trifle uneasy in the presence of a rumored sodomite, and Vittorio could get a shade sarcastic with a houseguest of whom he had every right to be tired. I’d have been tired of us too. Orsino didn’t see any reason why we should move ourselves elsewhere—“Doubtless he’s honored to play host to visitors of our connections, my little rose.” I’d whispered my private apologies to Vittorio for the length of our stay, and he’d patted my arm and said, “Bless you, m’dear, I’d be delighted to have you stay with me forever.” Don’t think I hadn’t heard the faint emphasis on you.

Holy Virgin, why couldn’t we just go home? Why did Orsino have to grow stubborn now, of all times?

But for once, I didn’t dare press him. Even if the French match had blown away on the wind, well, Orsino would still be perfectly within his rights to send Laura for fostering elsewhere, “for her education.” Somewhere she couldn’t return too often to disturb his peace of mind with thoughts of the past. No, I had to keep my husband charmed and bedazzled and far too besotted to think of upsetting me by sending my daughter away. If he wanted to parade me on his arm tonight for everyone to admire, sparkling and beautiful and all his, then so be it.

I was trying to muster some sparkle when I came back to the palazzo, but everyone was in an uproar. I saw a cluster of maids sobbing in one corner of the long sala, and rough-shod workmen clumped up the stairs with tools in hand. “What—” I began, and Laura’s nursemaid hurled herself wailing into my arms.

“Oh, Madonna Giulia!”

“What is it?” An icy finger of dread began wandering down my spine. “What’s happened?”

She was sobbing too hard to answer. I looked over her heaving shoulder and saw Vittorio Capece running toward me, white as rice.

“Giulia, my dear,” he said, and his words stumbled over each other. None of his usual elegant drawl. “I don’t know how it happened. It was while we were all gone at the execution. Half the servants slipped out too to see—some strange man begged entrance, one of the maids said. Some excuse about visiting your Orsino, but Jesu knows the palazzo was half empty, he could have wandered about anywhere, he could have had something to do with it—”

“What man? Who?”

“—because I swear to you, the ceilings have always been perfectly sound!”

“What’s happened?”