The Dark Heart of Florence by Tasha Alexander (ebook reader screen TXT) 📕

imminently having to leave for the station would have been enough to get you through the meal. Tedious doesn’t begin to describe her. You owe your husband a great debt.”

“I shall keep that in mind.” I met Colin’s eyes and felt my cheeks color. “I’m off to dress for dinner and shall see you both shortly.” I knew he would want to talk to Darius privately about what the servants had said. Before I reached our bedroom, I heard Cécile coming into the house. I waited until she had started up the stairs and then hailed her from the gallery landing. Together, we went to my study, where I updated her on the events of the day.

“Mon dieu, I would not have suspected anything of that sort from Tessa,” she said. “I had a lengthy conversation with her last night. Her only secret is un petit copain called Giotto. Madame Orlandi knows his family and disapproves, so Tessa meets him away from the house.”

“What about the treasure? Did she say anything about it?”

“She confided that all of the servants have searched for it at one point or another, but that no one has found anything. She insisted that if any of them had, they would not have kept it for themselves but reported it to us or Kat or the countess, I suppose, when she was still alive.”

“Did you believe her?”

“I did, but not in the way you mean. I don’t think anyone has hunted for it in years.”

“Yet so many people have mentioned it to us,” I said.

“Yes, but most of them only after we’ve asked. Something was hidden here, long ago. Maybe it still exists, maybe it doesn’t, but regardless, it makes for good stories, like those told by the jewelers on the Ponte Vecchio. But to suggest that its existence matters now to anyone but us? I’m not convinced.”

“The servants were definitely discussing it in a context that involved me. If they mean to distract us with it, what are they distracting us from?”

“This terrible business with Marzo, I imagine. Kallista, I know how hard you are trying to respect the boundaries of Monsieur Hargreaves’s work. We are both aware that the murder has something to do with what he does for the Crown. I suspect your husband has asked Tessa and the others to encourage our interest in this little mystery so that we will apply ourselves to finding treasure and leave Marzo’s death to them.”

Could he be playing a more manipulative game than I knew? I didn’t think so. We were being honest with each other, even if that meant him being straight about admitting that he couldn’t tell me anything. “He wouldn’t rely on servants to do that. He’s been very clear with me and I’ve told him we accept the limitations of his work and won’t interfere.”

“He will not have believed you, not unless you put up a very strong fight before capitulating.”

“He believes me.”

“Kallista, the man is no fool. He knows we are investigating. About that, there can be no doubt. He could never be persuaded that you would abandon a murder investigation in favor of a treasure hunt likely to turn up nothing.”

She was correct, of course, but I couldn’t tell her that he not only knew exactly what we were doing but also that I was keeping him abreast of all our discoveries. It seemed ridiculous to hide it from her, but I had promised him I would and had to trust that he had reason to believe such subterfuge essential. I hated the deception, just as he had warned me I would. A dull pain ached in my abdomen.

“Let’s not worry about what he thinks or doesn’t,” I said. “How was your time in Chianti?”

“Kallista, I did not go to Chianti. If I had, I would not have arrived back here in time for dinner.” She sighed. “Renzo and I spent the day together, but we did not leave Florence. I invented the excursion to the winery so that neither Monsieur Hargreaves nor Monsieur Benton-Smith would know the more intimate nature of my plans. If they hadn’t been at the breakfast table, I would have never felt the need for such a fiction.”

“Colin wouldn’t have judged you, and Darius is far too polite to have commented. He would have pretended not to hear.”

“I am in complete agreement,” she said. “I’ve become so accustomed to leading them both astray in order to make them think we’ve abandoned our investigation that I find myself firmly in the habit of lying to them. It’s rather appalling how easily it happened.”

I knew all too well what she meant. “Let’s hope we don’t have to carry on in this manner much longer.”

Barking at the door told us that Caesar and Brutus had taken note of their mistress’s return. I let them in and they raced to Cécile, who scooped them up and deposited them into her lap. “Many of the details of my day are irrelevant to our purposes, although I will tell you that Renzo’s home has a roof terrace with an incomparable view of the city,” she said. “We shared a bottle of champagne—a delicate attention that did not go unnoticed—there this afternoon. He is intrigued by the possibility of the treasure and has done further research into it, digging through a cache of letters dating to the days of Savonarola’s control of Florence. They aren’t specifically connected to records or histories of this house, so he did not bring them to you when we were in the library. But now, knowing more, he thinks it could be advantageous to expand the search for other sources that might be of use. One of these letters—written by a silk merchant to one of his colleagues—mentions that there is a way to keep things safe.”

“Things?” I asked.

“Unfortunately there is nothing more specific as to the nature of the items. However, the author of the letter was an avid collector of art, who expressed concerns