Venice in the Moonlight (12 page)

“But you do bring lovers here.”

Nico shrugged in the French wingback chair they had placed by the fireplace for his portrait. He looked regal in a black silk suit trimmed in gold and a waistcoat of burgundy and gold leaf-patterned brocade. It seemed Raul had excellent taste in men’s fashions.

Marietta rolled her eyes before she settled in a chair behind the easel. “Please keep still while I draw.”

“May I talk?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Looking at him was going to be enough distraction. She didn’t need to listen to him also.

He ignored her request. “I have to ask—why Palladino?”

Marietta blew out an exasperated breath. “I can’t sketch you properly if you talk.”

“You could have chosen any man at the Consul’s villa. Casanova himself expressed interest in you, yet you leave with that pig.”

“It’s not what you think.” She compared her drawing to Nico and frowned. His shoulders were no longer in the same position.

“You didn’t have to suffer the man’s dismal lovemaking. What were you thinking?”

“We did not make love,” she replied through clenched teeth.

He continued as if not hearing her. “You’re the first woman in years that he didn’t have to pay, though he would never admit to his need for courtesans. I just don’t understand how you could find him appealing.”

“We did not make love.” She practically shouted it this time. “I’m not attracted to Palladino or any other man for that matter.”

This silenced him, gratefully, but only for a few moments. “Well, in that case, I know of a few courtesans that can accommodate you. I am told they are quite beautiful and skilled.”

Marietta threw down her charcoal and marched over to him. She grabbed his shoulders and repositioned him. “That is not what I meant and you know it.”

He smiled up at her innocently. “I didn’t mean to offend you, but you have refused my charms, so what should I think?”

She glared at him for her own benefit, knowing it would have no effect on the man. “You need to stop talking and moving.”

When he didn’t respond, she said, “That’s better.”

He lasted almost fifteen minutes. “So, what kind of man are you attracted to? Perhaps, I could suggest a few potential lovers.”

“How about one who has fewer conquests than fingers and toes? Or one that values honesty and fidelity over all else? Do you know any like that?”

From the thoughtful look on his face, he took this as an earnest question. “I’m afraid, Kitty, a man like that will be hard to find in Venice, especially this time of year.”

“Well, then, I guess I’ll have to go without.”

“How depressing. What will you do for amusement if you don’t take a lover?”

Marietta rubbed at her temples and decided she deserved more than the coins she’d already been paid. “There’s more to life than pleasuring oneself.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Signore, really.” She placed her stub of charcoal on the easel’s tray and rolled the stiffness from her neck and shoulders. “That is all for today. I have another appointment.” It was a lie, but she felt the need to rest and the bed in the corner was tempting her tired body.

Nico quickly rose and beat her to the door. “One kiss before you go.”

With arms akimbo, she said, “Did you not hear anything I said today?”

He placed a finger lightly on her lips. “I hear more than you say.”

She pulled her head back. “No, you may not have a kiss.”

He gave her a confident smile. “I’ll ask you every day and eventually you will say yes.”

With an artist’s eye, she studied his aristocratic mouth and wondered how the old masters would paint him. Raphael could definitely do justice to his full lips, but Rembrandt would be needed to add the darkness surrounding him. The woman in her wondered how such perfection would feel against her own inadequate lips. She lingered over the thought, but then finally shrugged. “If you want to waste your breath, then so be it.”

He leaned against the door to block her way. “Why don’t you like me?”

Because he seemed sincere, she ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “Men like you take what you want without thought to the consequences. You exist only to fulfill your desires. You are shallow and only capable of loving yourself—”

He held up a hand to cut her off. “Enough, Kitty, you wound too deep. I wouldn’t like myself either.”

“I merely answered your question.”

He gave her a formal bow and then opened the door. “I look forward to changing your mind.”

“Don’t count on it,” she replied with a quick curtsy.

Outside of Nico’s apartment, she laid a shaky hand on the nearest wall. This was going to be harder than she had thought.

ater that night after a soft rain shower, Marietta clung to the railing of Palladino’s bedroom balcony. Her fingers fought against the slickness of the wet wrought iron. The weight of her body pulled on her shoulders, causing the muscles to cramp with pain. For the past hour, she had waited impatiently in the shadows across the street. When Palladino had finally left the house with his hired courtesan, she had jumped from the trellis to the balcony, but now things weren’t going as planned.

She swung one leg up, but her velvet slipper slid off the glistening stone platform. Her body swayed precariously from the failed effort. She glanced down and wondered if she could survive a two-story fall. Maybe she stood a chance if it were the Grand Canal below and not the hard cobblestones of the Calle de Mandola.

A gust of wind kicked up and her tricorn hat floated lazily to the street. With a stifled groan, she tried one more time to pull herself up. After a few painful moments, she managed to hook a toe in the grillwork and flip herself over the railing. She landed with a plop and a screech of ripping cloth.

In a fit of disgust, she yanked her black cloak free from the edge of a curled baluster and cocked an ear toward the French double doors that led into the bedroom. The usual night noises filled the outside air, but only silence came from inside the villa. Satisfied, Marietta brushed off her backside. Her clumsy and near fatal arrival had not been heard.

She slipped inside and paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light the embers in the fireplace provided. The smell of stale wine and cheap lovemaking spoiled the room. She remembered her own portrayal of an enamored lover and bile filled her mouth; however the danger of last night and tonight had been worth it. After her failed confrontation with Savio Foscari, she had accepted that no one would willingly pay her for her father’s work. Fortunately, there was more than one way to satisfy a debt.

She crept silently to the stack of paintings and once again found her father’s. She pulled a dagger from the sheath tied to the side of her breeches, pried the painting from the wooden frame, and then dropped the stiff canvas into a burlap sack. Holding the empty frame, she looked around the room. She couldn’t leave it behind, and it was too large to carry home. With no other choice, she tossed it in the fireplace and watched it burn until nothing but ash remained.

Outside on the balcony, she looked up and down the Calle de Mandola. The faint sounds of singing and laughter drifted over from a nearby celebration, but the street below was deserted. More surefooted this time, she swung herself over the rail and scrambled down the trellis. After she retrieved her hat, she set off at a brisk pace in the direction of the Piazza San Marco.

ico let the silly chatter of his female companion bounce off him as they made their way through the carnival revelers in the Piazza San Marco. In front of him, Casanova worked his charms on his latest conquest and Raul followed dutifully behind. They were headed for their usual haunt, Il Ridotto.

At the tug on his arm, he tried to remember the woman’s name
.
Angelica? Annalisa? Annetta? That was it. Annetta. “I’m sorry, my sweet, what did you say?”

He didn’t listen to Annetta’s reply. Instead, he let his mind work on something more bothersome. Ever since Marietta left his apartment, he couldn’t stop thinking about her, which was highly unusual. And now, these thoughts were affecting the pleasure he normally felt around other women. If it continued, he might as well become a monk.

In the middle of the piazza where the crowd was the thickest, he tripped over the foot of a small man passing by. To hide his embarrassment, he turned to give the man a tongue lashing but then smelled the familiar scent of turpentine mixed with lavender.

“Kitty?” He grabbed the man’s arm and leaned in to take another whiff. “It is you. Why are you dressed like that?”

“It’s Carnival. I can dress any way I like.”

She tried to pull away, but he held on tightly. “Where are you going? Do you have an escort?”

“I don’t need one. It is only a short distance. Please let go of me.” She twisted against his grip.

He shook his head. “Raul and I will walk with you.”

“Signore, please, just let me go.”

He heard the fear in her voice. “Cas, take the ladies. I will join you later at the gaming tables.”

“It is not necessary. Please, go with your friends.”

He didn’t understand why she was upset, but he had no intention of leaving her alone. He motioned to Raul. “Lead the way.”

They walked in silence until out of the piazza. “Where were you tonight? With your handsome Palladino?”

A few moments passed before she replied, “No, I was restless and thought a walk might help.”

Between her hesitation and her strained tone, he knew this wasn’t the truth, but they had reached her lodging.

“Thank you for escorting me. I will see you on the morrow.” She flew to the door and slammed it behind her.

Nico let out a long breath. “What do you think about that, Raul?”

“As I told you before, she’s as crazy as her father.”

He didn’t believe it. “Did she look as nervous as she sounded?”

“Yes, and she was clutching a sack as if it were the crown jewels.”

Bewildered, Nico shook his head. Dressed as a man and holding a sack. What were you up to, Kitty?

everal loud knocks sounded on the door to Marietta’s suite. Ignoring the visitor, she rolled over in bed and buried her head under a pillow. When the knocking continued, she finally called out, “Yes, I’m awake. For God’s sake stop that noise.”

A key rattled in the lock, and then Rosina entered with a steaming cup of coffee and a few pieces of sweet bread on a tray. She blew a stray, gray curl off her face. “No need to be sharp-tongued with me, young lady. Maybe if you weren’t out until all hours of the night, you wouldn’t still be in bed.”

“I’m sorry.” She stretched her arms above her head and was rewarded with stabs of pain in her shoulders and backside. “Where’s Zeta?”

“I asked her to go to the market for me.” The older woman set the tray on the desk and then slowly picked up the painting of the church. She thrust it at Marietta. “Where did you get this?”

Marietta didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them.

“What have you done, child?”

“I took back what is rightfully mine.”

“What if he misses it? Who will he blame?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think he will. It wasn’t even mounted on a wall. He’s not worthy of owning such a masterpiece.”