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

“After the second time he came in, I took to sleeping in the loggia,” he said. “That way I could hear anyone who tried to get in.”

“Assuming they entered through the front door,” Colin said.

“There’s no other point of entry. There are no windows on the ground floor except in the loggia.”

“What about a door from the alley?” Colin asked. “Is there no servants’ entrance?”

“The Contessa von Lang did not want anyone to enter the house except from the front. She had every other door bricked up.”

Kat’s mother, the countess in question, had met Colin in the course of her work as an agent of the Austrian government. The house in Florence was the place to which she could escape, unnoticed, when she wanted respite and privacy. Possessing a sharp intelligence and fully aware of the dangers of her work—she was eventually killed in the line of duty—she would never have tolerated an unsecure residence.

Signora Orlandi returned, but not with my tea. “Signore Hargreaves, there is a gentleman here to see you.” She handed Colin a card, which he glanced at and nodded.

“Excellent. Send him in at once.” He turned to Fredo, dismissing him. “We will speak again. Thank you.”

“Were you expecting someone?” I asked.

“Yes, a colleague, Darius Benton-Smith. He was at school and then Cambridge, but before me. He’s quite possibly the most charming gentleman on earth. You’ll adore him, Cécile.”

“How old is he?” she asked.

“Old enough,” Colin said, knowing her proclivities.

“I do believe, Monsieur Hargreaves, that you, too, are finally now old enough. I had not realized that until this moment. How very interesting.”

The door swung open and Mr. Benton-Smith stepped into the room, pausing to bow the moment he saw Cécile and me. “Good heavens, Hargreaves, you should have warned me you’d brought ladies with you. I was not prepared for such an onslaught of loveliness.”

My husband made introductions, while the newcomer kissed our hands and bestowed upon my friend and me a barrage of earnest compliments. He was ever so slightly taller than Colin, with dark blond hair and green eyes that flashed with flecks of amber. His features could be lauded as a study of English handsomeness.

“I’m more than sorry to arrive and disrupt this enchanting party. Can you ladies ever forgive me?”

“Has a woman yet been born who could answer that question in the negative when posed by you, Monsieur Benton-Smith?” Caesar and Brutus, seeing their mistress’s attention so thoroughly fixed on someone other than themselves, rushed for Mr. Benton-Smith’s ankles and nipped at them furiously. He crouched down and spoke to the little dogs in a voice that would have soothed even an enraged lion. Caesar succumbed to him at once, Brutus following half a heartbeat later, neither objecting when he scooped them up and lifted them to his face, accepting their enthusiastic kisses. “You need do nothing more to prove your worthiness to me, monsieur,” Cécile said. “They do not usually welcome newcomers with such eager passion.”

“You must call me Darius.”

“I wouldn’t hold out much hope,” Colin said. “I’ve known her for more than a dozen years and she still won’t call me by my Christian name.”

Mr. Benton-Smith returned the dogs to the floor. “Hargreaves, is there somewhere we speak privately? I’m afraid work is rearing its unfortunate head.”

“There’s no need,” Cécile said. “Kallista and I will make a little exploration of the house and leave you to your work.” Almost the moment she met me, Cécile adopted the nickname bestowed on me by my late first husband and since had never called me Emily.

“That’s very kind of you,” Colin said. “I shall have your tea brought to wherever you wind up.”

“Monsieur Hargreaves, I would deny you very little, but must ask, in return, that you never, ever suggest I would drink tea.” Cécile took her empty glass and the bottle of champagne, smiling at Mr. Benton-Smith as she glided out of the room. I came behind, raising an eyebrow at my husband before closing the door behind us.

Tessa, tea tray in hand, was upon us almost at once, so we postponed our exploration for the moment and followed her up two flights of stairs, across the gallery landing, and past the kitchen to a narrow and brightly painted corridor that led to a cozy room. Like the one in which we’d left the gentlemen, its walls were covered in elaborate painted designs. Wooden shutters in the wall near the stone fireplace stood open to reveal a niche that held a statue of the Virgin Mary holding the baby Jesus. A single chandelier hung between painted beams on the ceiling, glowing gold, but not providing a great deal of light. After depositing her tray on a convenient table, Tessa stoked the fire and then left us alone.

“Kallista, Kallista. We live in such interesting times, do we not?” She took away the tea I had poured, picked up the remaining cup from the tray, and filled it with champagne before passing it to me. “The addition of Monsieur Benton-Smith to our party is a welcome one. I did not suspect your husband’s interest in coming here had to do with his work, but that is now undeniable. I assume you know more. What’s going on?”

“My knowledge of the situation is limited in the extreme.” I recounted for her the conversation I’d overhead between Colin and Sir John.

“Ah, as if Monsieur Hargreaves, who is already impossibly handsome, needed something to make him even more intriguing. We’ve known all along his work was both secret and important, but are you telling me he holds the fate of his beloved British Empire in his hands?”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far, Cécile, but these break-ins are more significant than we’re being led to believe.”

“Bien sûr, particularly if they require the services of two agents of the Crown. I must say, Kallista, I had never expected to be faced with a pair of such handsome spies. Are they spies, do you think?”

“I don’t know that I’d go that