make you
work off her kindness.”
“Maximus!” Cass turned bright red at the thought.
He chuckled. “Sorry. For a moment there, I forgot your station.
When I met you, you were in costume, and here you are again, pretending to be less than you are.”
It was true. He had never known her as a noblewoman. “I’ve been
pretending for the better part of a week,” Cass said. “If anyone were
to recognize me, they’d likely turn me in for the reward money.” Her
eyes narrowed as she turned to face him. “Why aren’t you turning me
in for the reward money?”
“I should hardly think I need money so badly as to see a woman
executed to get it,” Maximus said. “Besides, Joseph Dubois has been
posting reward notices all about the city for information leading to
your capture, and he once spirited away something very dear to me.
I’d rather fall on a sword than help that man.”
Maximus was talking about Mariabella. He probably didn’t even
know for certain she was dead. All he could do was suspect. Cass
wished she could tell him that Cristian had killed her while he was
working for Joseph Dubois, that her body lay in another woman’s
tomb. It was obvious the conjurer still desperately missed her. But
that would mean explaining everything, and now was not the time for
that.
“Are you sure this place is safe for me?” Cass asked suddenly.
“The women won’t alert the authorities to my presence?”
“The woman in charge is called Octavia,” Maximus said. “I’d
trust her with my life. She hates the Doge and the Senate, so she’d
never turn you in. I can’t be too certain about the other girls though—
some of them do tend to think with their purses. Best we keep your
real identity a secret just in case.” He steered Cass down a side path.
“Palazzo Dolce. Here we are.”
Cass recognized the curtain of hanging vines as she and Maximus
made their way up the little stone staircase. She vaguely remembered
the courtesan with white-blonde hair who answered the door. “Maximus,” the girl purred. “Have you come looking for a girl to assist you
in your act again?” She held the door open for them to enter and then
closed it behind them.
“No, but when I do, you’ll be the first to know, Arabella,” he
promised.
Arabella took Maximus’s black velvet cloak from around his
shoulders and then looked over at Cass curiously. “Have you brought
a stray with you?”
“Now be nice,” Maximus said. “She’s just along to speak with
Octavia.”
Maximus swept Cass through the portego and the dining room,
into a small hallway at the back of the piano nobile. They paused
outside the doorway to a small sitting room that looked as if it had
been converted into a study. Inside, a stately woman in a low-cut
dress was speaking to a petite olive-skinned girl about Cass’s age.
The girl’s dark skin reminded Cass of Piero. She wondered if she or
her parents had come to Venice from one of the Mediterranean islands.
“That’s Octavia,” Maximus whispered, gesturing toward the
older woman. “We’ll just wait here for her to finish.”
Octavia had high cheekbones and a bit of gray hair showing at her
temples. She sat with her chin high and her shoulders back, managing
to look regal despite the plunging neckline of her dress. “So you see,
dear,” she said to the girl across from her. “There’s more to your position here than being good at carnal affairs. A man wants to be with
a woman who is sophisticated and worldly, or at least appears so.”
“Yes, Octavia.” The girl nodded vigorously, and her tight black
curls bounced up and down. She tapped one of her feet repeatedly
and fidgeted on her chair. Cass noticed she was wearing a ring on
every finger of her left hand.
“This is not the first time one of our clients has had words with
me regarding your . . . demeanor.”
“Perhaps we ought to come back later,” Cass murmured, backing
away from the doorway.
“Nonsense,”
work off her kindness.”
“Maximus!” Cass turned bright red at the thought.
He chuckled. “Sorry. For a moment there, I forgot your station.
When I met you, you were in costume, and here you are again, pretending to be less than you are.”
It was true. He had never known her as a noblewoman. “I’ve been
pretending for the better part of a week,” Cass said. “If anyone were
to recognize me, they’d likely turn me in for the reward money.” Her
eyes narrowed as she turned to face him. “Why aren’t you turning me
in for the reward money?”
“I should hardly think I need money so badly as to see a woman
executed to get it,” Maximus said. “Besides, Joseph Dubois has been
posting reward notices all about the city for information leading to
your capture, and he once spirited away something very dear to me.
I’d rather fall on a sword than help that man.”
Maximus was talking about Mariabella. He probably didn’t even
know for certain she was dead. All he could do was suspect. Cass
wished she could tell him that Cristian had killed her while he was
working for Joseph Dubois, that her body lay in another woman’s
tomb. It was obvious the conjurer still desperately missed her. But
that would mean explaining everything, and now was not the time for
that.
“Are you sure this place is safe for me?” Cass asked suddenly.
“The women won’t alert the authorities to my presence?”
“The woman in charge is called Octavia,” Maximus said. “I’d
trust her with my life. She hates the Doge and the Senate, so she’d
never turn you in. I can’t be too certain about the other girls though—
some of them do tend to think with their purses. Best we keep your
real identity a secret just in case.” He steered Cass down a side path.
“Palazzo Dolce. Here we are.”
Cass recognized the curtain of hanging vines as she and Maximus
made their way up the little stone staircase. She vaguely remembered
the courtesan with white-blonde hair who answered the door. “Maximus,” the girl purred. “Have you come looking for a girl to assist you
in your act again?” She held the door open for them to enter and then
closed it behind them.
“No, but when I do, you’ll be the first to know, Arabella,” he
promised.
Arabella took Maximus’s black velvet cloak from around his
shoulders and then looked over at Cass curiously. “Have you brought
a stray with you?”
“Now be nice,” Maximus said. “She’s just along to speak with
Octavia.”
Maximus swept Cass through the portego and the dining room,
into a small hallway at the back of the piano nobile. They paused
outside the doorway to a small sitting room that looked as if it had
been converted into a study. Inside, a stately woman in a low-cut
dress was speaking to a petite olive-skinned girl about Cass’s age.
The girl’s dark skin reminded Cass of Piero. She wondered if she or
her parents had come to Venice from one of the Mediterranean islands.
“That’s Octavia,” Maximus whispered, gesturing toward the
older woman. “We’ll just wait here for her to finish.”
Octavia had high cheekbones and a bit of gray hair showing at her
temples. She sat with her chin high and her shoulders back, managing
to look regal despite the plunging neckline of her dress. “So you see,
dear,” she said to the girl across from her. “There’s more to your position here than being good at carnal affairs. A man wants to be with
a woman who is sophisticated and worldly, or at least appears so.”
“Yes, Octavia.” The girl nodded vigorously, and her tight black
curls bounced up and down. She tapped one of her feet repeatedly
and fidgeted on her chair. Cass noticed she was wearing a ring on
every finger of her left hand.
“This is not the first time one of our clients has had words with
me regarding your . . . demeanor.”
“Perhaps we ought to come back later,” Cass murmured, backing
away from the doorway.
“Nonsense,”
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