Venom_ARC448_FM8.indd

by Venom (mobi)

  But Cass couldn't be stopped. Fueled by the excitement of her close call with the gardener, she stampeded through the dining room and into the portego. Too late, she realized her mistake. Her aunt was sitting in a high-backed chair sipping tea from her favorite gold-rimmed ceramic teacup. And she wasn't alone.

  "Cassandra! Where have you been?" Agnese's voice was a mixture of anger and concern. "The servants have been chattering about a kidnapper. I had begun to fear someone had spirited you away."

  Cass barely heard her aunt's reprimand. She was too busy staring at Agnese's visitor. Sitting between a pair of manservants was an attractive middle-aged man wearing clothes sewn from cloth fine enough to suit the Doge. His dark hair was streaked with hints of silver, and he wore jeweled rings on three fingers. Cass recognized him at once.

  It was Joseph Dubois.

  14

  Cass opened her mouth but couldn't immediately respond. Dubois showed no signs of having spent the previous night dancing and drinking. It was like he'd sprung straight out of her thoughts and onto Agnese's velvet portego chair.

  "Mi dispiace, Aunt Agnese," Cass finally stammered, inching away from Dubois toward the corridor that led to her room. "I . . . I went for a walk. I guess I lost track of time." Maybe if she stayed far enough away, Agnese wouldn't realize the state of disarray of her dress. Had Dubois somehow recognized her at the ball? Why else would he be here, on San Domenico, in her aunt's portego?

  Agnese's mouth dropped open, causing a second chin to form in the loose, doughy skin of her throat. "You speak of time as though it were an unruly canine. What you really lost track of, Cassandra, were your manners, and meanwhile the entire house has been turned upside down looking for you." The old woman clucked her tongue. "You need always consider how your actions might affect others." She shook her head as if Cass were beyond hope. "And speaking of manners, come and greet Signor Dubois. He's one of the most influential men in all of Venice, you know." Agnese turned a smile on Dubois.

  Reluctantly, Cass approached the Frenchman. His servants looked away as Dubois took her hand and kissed it. "My pleasure," he said, his voice smooth as silk. His smile was dazzling, and his teeth were white and straight.

  Blushing, Cass dipped into a shallow curtsy, trying to hold her cloak around her soggy skirts. "It's nice to see you, Signore."

  Agnese squinted. Her gnarled fingers reached out to pluck a piece of lint from Cass's top skirt. "Why do you look like a drowned chicken?" The old woman leaned in closer. "And what is that on your face? Is it blood?"

  Blood from her hand. Possibly paint. Who knew? Cass thought quickly. "I went out on the rocks by the shoreline and a burst of surf hit me. I slipped and fell. I guess I must have scratched my face."

  Agnese frowned so deeply that her silver eyebrows met in the middle of her face. For a second, Cass could swear she saw something flash across Agnese's face—anger? Concern? But just as quickly, it was gone.

  "Siena," Agnese barked. The lady's maid scampered out from the dining room where she had no doubt been eavesdropping. She stood just inside the doorway, pale and wide eyed like a goat ready for slaughter. "See to my niece immediately," Agnese said.

  "Yes, Signora." Siena dipped into a low bow and then headed toward the back of the villa.

  Cass followed close behind her, stopping at the threshold of the portego to curtsy once more in Dubois's general direction.

  Agnese pursed her lips into a hard line. This look was easy to determine: We'll talk about your behavior later.

  As she slipped out of the room, she heard Joseph say, "You're smart to take a firm hand with her. I remember too well what it was like to be a headstrong youth. Ah, the feeling of invincibility."

  Agnese sighed. "Yes, she gets that from her parents, I'm afraid. They were both wandering spirits."

  Cass paused, straining to hear Dubois's response. She heard the clink of teacup on saucer. "A little wandering is good for the soul. It's just the company one keeps that may be hazardous."

  "Indeed," Agnese answered. "Of course young women are like mules: the harder you pull, the harder they resist. No, I think I know just the thing that will help her . . . regain her focus." Her voice faded away as Siena, terrified of getting caught eavesdropping, pulled Cass away and toward her room.

  In her bathroom, Siena brought Cass a bucket of steaming water, and then helped her get out of her damp clothes. Cass ran a soapy cloth over her skin reluctantly. Even though the warm water felt good, she couldn't bring herself to scrub too thoroughly. She could still smell traces of paint and minty soap on her. Falco. She didn't want to wash him away.

  After helping Cass into her dressing gown, Siena grabbed a silver-plated hairbrush from the dressing table and began to brush Cass's hair so furiously that it made Cass's eyes water.

  "Not so hard," she grumbled. "No need to punish me. I'm sure my aunt has something terrible planned already. Perhaps I'll have to embroider an entire bedcover, or worse, she'll make me start taking violin lessons again." Cass had endured two years of harp and violin lessons with a tutor from the Rialto, but eventually Agnese had realized that her niece was just not musically gifted.

  "Now that would be a punishment for us all, Signorina," Siena said with a delicate smile.

  Cass would have been offended if the remark weren't so true. Even the house cats used to run and hide when they saw Cass with her violin case.

  "Why did she come back early, Siena? Do you know?" Cass asked.

  "Something about a storm approaching, I think." Siena tugged the brush through Cass's hair. "I wouldn't worry too much about punishment. She did come home in excellent spirits as usual—and of course, she doesn't know you spent the whole night on the Rialto."

  "You won't tell her, will you?" Cass looked pleadingly at Siena in the mirror.

  "I won't—if you promise it won't happen again. I don't like lying, and I'm not very good at it." Siena's eyes met hers. "And I worry about you, even when you are with your lover."

  "He's not my lover," Cass said quickly. She didn't understand why Siena seemed determined to believe there was something romantic going on between her and Falco. Just because Falco had kissed her didn't mean he would do it again. It was the alcohol. Neither of them had been thinking clearly. Cass attempted to change the subject. "What is Signor Dubois doing here?"

  Siena shrugged. "Personal business with your aunt, I imagine." She lifted her chin daintily. "I am not privy to Signora Querini's affairs."

  Cass elbowed Siena in the ribs. "I am not privy to Signora Querini's affairs" she mimicked. "Come on, Siena. I know those ears hear everything."

  Siena dropped her glance to the floor and Cass immediately felt guilty. She hadn't meant to imply that the girl's ears were too big, only that the servants always seemed to be hovering just out of sight. Siena put the silver hairbrush back on the dressing table and picked up a hair ornament carved from sea coral and adorned with pearls. She began to twist Cass's hair into a tight bun. "If I heard anything, it was purely accidental" she said, shooting Cass's reflection a warning look. "And only as a result of the normal course of my duties."

  Cass winked at Siena in the mirror, amazed at the sleek topknot the girl had created. "Fine. What did you accidentally hear while you were responsibly completing your duties?"

  Siena pinned the pearl ornament around Cass's hair and pursed her lips. She liberated a couple of strands from the bun and nodded as they curled naturally around Cass's face. "I may have heard Dubois say he saw you in unsavory company at his masquerade ball last evening."

  Cass's heart stopped. So he had recognized her at the ball, after Agnese had expressly forbidden her from attending. Had he seen her with Falco? Angelo? The man in the falcon mask? "Did he say whom he meant?" Cass slipped her arms into her stays and tried not to flinch as Siena pulled them tight.

  Siena selected one of Cass's favorite dresses from the armoire, a gorgeous topaz gown with a lace neckline and cream-colored sleeves. "If he did, I didn't hear it."
<
br />   "Did he say anything else?" Cass's voice sounded muffled as Siena slid the heavy dress over her head.

  "He mentioned the matter of Sophia going missing. He told Agnese not to worry—that there's no snatcher on the loose. Dubois believes she ran off with a traveling minstrel or magician," Siena said. "According to him, she was quite taken with a performer at one of his parties."

  Cass frowned. It was certainly possible—but was it true? If so, perhaps Mariabella and Sophia's disappearance were unconnected. The thought made Cass feel slightly better. Mariabella may have been strangled by a jealous patron, but that was easier to stomach than a killer on the loose.

  Still, there was the note . . . and that terrible building full of bodies . . . And if the maid had run away with a performer, perhaps it had been Maximus, the conjurer who also claimed to have been fond of Mariabella.

  Cass sucked in a deep breath and focused on her reflection. The sun had pinkened her cheeks a bit, but thankfully she didn't see any new freckles. "I believe I can safely return to the portego," she said, "and receive my lecture from Aunt Agnese while looking proper"

  Cass made her way back down the corridor to where her aunt still sat in the portego, sipping tea from a delicate silver cup. Joseph Du-bois and his men had left. Cass took the seat Dubois had vacated. "Aunt Agnese," she said, "I am so sorry. I shouldn't have gone to the ball without your permission. And I didn't mean to worry anyone this morning."

  To Cass's shock, the old woman reached out and patted her gently on the leg. "I know. I fear I may have overreacted." Agnese's brown eyes gleamed as she smiled a grin so big, it was borderline scary. "You did look frightful though. Heaven knows what Luca would have thought. Or Matteo," she added.

  Cass was so startled by the leniency of her aunt's response, she couldn't think of anything to say. She had been expecting a verbal flogging, at least.

  Agnese reached out to pinch the loose fabric under her niece's arms. "This dress has always been one of my favorites, but it hangs on you like a flour sack. Why don't you take Siena and go see Signor Sesti? He can measure you for a new dress since you insist on being so slender. Take Narissa with you too," she added as an afterthought. "I have a couple of errands for her as well."

  Cass stared at her aunt, trying to determine what kind of game she was playing. Was she trying to make Cass feel guilty for running amok and embarrassing her in front of Dubois? Or was she really going to reward Cass's transgressions with a dress-fitting at the most glamorous shop in all of Venice?

  "Go on," Agnese said, slipping a sealed envelope into Cass's hands. "That's got instructions for the tailor. I requested some fabric from the weaver a few weeks ago. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by what he has done."

  Cass didn't doubt it. Signor Sesti had designed and altered dresses for Madalena that were every bit as elegant as the ones her father routinely brought back from abroad. Cass called for both maidservants and almost dragged them out the door before Agnese had time to change her mind.

  At the last second, Cass grabbed the letter from Luca. It had been sitting on the side table for so long that a fine layer of dust covered the red wax seal. She felt a pang of guilt. Her fiancé probably took time out from his diligent studying to write her letters, while Cass spent her evenings running wild with another man. How quickly would he disavow her if he found out she had let Falco kiss her? Cass almost wished she were the kind of girl who could break hearts and dishonor her family just to get what she wanted.

  But no, persuading Luca to leave her might solve one problem— but it would cause too many more to count.

  Just sitting inside the tailor's shop made Cass feel better. She had always found Madalena's obsession with beautiful things a little silly, but surrounded by silky fabric samples and wooden forms sporting half-finished formal gowns, Cass realized she and her friend weren't so different. She reached out and stroked the train of a rich green velvet dress that hung on the form nearest to where she sat. The fabric was so dark, it almost looked black. The front of the gown plunged low, its neckline emblazoned with a row of sparkling emeralds. The tailor still needed to finish the cuffs and the shimmery silver sleeves, but even as a work in progress this dress would have outshone almost all of the outfits she had seen at Dubois's ball.

  Signor Sesti stood behind a wooden counter, accepting a payment from a young woman with her hair twisted up into a high cone shape. As Cass and Siena waited for the dressmaker to finish with his previous customer, Cass pulled out the letter from Luca. Fiddling with the edge of the folded parchment, she went to break the red wax seal and paused. The wax felt lumpy. Cass examined the blob of red more closely. It looked as if someone had sliced through the wax beneath Luca's lily insignia and then later resealed it. Luca must have reopened the letter to add something. As if anything he had to say was that crucial anyway. Reluctantly, she scanned the first few lines of the letter.

  My Dearest Cassandra,

  Bonjour, ma chérie. I think of you often. I hope you are not growing lonely and bored being stuck in the villa with your aunt. My colleagues drag me out for a meal occasionally, but I spend the majority of my time studying. Are you also concentrating hard on your lessons? I can only imagine how beautiful you've become since I saw you last, and I should hope there aren't too many men trying to court you in my absence. I know that you see the best in people, but remember, most men are not to be trusted.

  Cass refolded the letter in disgust. If she had read it on the ride over, she might have tossed it straight into the lagoon. They were engaged, and yet Luca persisted in being threatened by imaginary suitors vying for her. As if she could just break her engagement and run off with some other man.

  No matter how much she might want to.

  Siena glanced up as the tailor finished his dealings with the young woman. "Wasn't it kind of your aunt to order a new dress for you?"

  "It was kind," Cass mused. "And odd." She hoped Agnese's advanced age wasn't causing her to become feeble minded. Her aunt hadn't seemed forgetful or erratic, but this lack of punishment was definitely inconsistent with her usual behavior.

  The woman at the counter bid Signor Sesti goodbye and turned toward the door. She wore a low-cut bodice with a belt cinched tightly around her waist. Cass watched her sashay out of the shop, admiring the way her body moved beneath the lush fabric. Cass wondered if she was a courtesan.

  Siena handed the envelope from Agnese to Signor Sesti. Cass peeked over the tailor's shoulder as he scanned the note written in her aunt's big spidery handwriting. His face lit up when he read over the promised payment. Cass's eyes widened. Maybe her aunt was getting weak minded. The figure was much too large for a single gown.

  Signor Sesti hummed to himself as he disappeared into his supply room. He returned with an armful of bolts of vividly colored fabric. "Your aunt had these delivered from Signor Bochino's shop. Once we have settled on the design and cut the fabric, I will send it across town to be embroidered."

  "But I don't need anything this extravagant," Cass protested. The brilliant satin had metallic threads sewn within it, making the whole material glimmer when the light caught it just right. Cass had no doubt she would ruin it the first time she wore it.

  Signor Sesti continued as if he hadn't heard her. He held a roll of chiffon up to the light. "And this, maybe with tiny pearls. Don't you think it would make a lovely veil?"

  Cass felt sick to her stomach. She leaned away from the bolts of fabric as if they might sprout fangs and bite her. Suddenly, it all made sense—the lack of punishment, the trip to the tailor, Agnese's good mood. The old woman hadn't sent her to be fitted for some new pieces to wear about town. Cass was there at Signor Sesti's shop for one reason only: to be measured for her wedding dress.

  15

  Before Cass could utter a word, before she could begin to explain to Signor Sesti that there had been a horrible mistake and she was absolutely not ready to be fitted for her wedding dress, the tailor disappeared into the back room and the shop d
oor squeaked open again.

  Madalena entered, dressed in a pale lavender gown with silver sleeves and an indigo underskirt. The collar of her cloak was dyed dark purple to match. Mink fur, it looked like. Maybe fox. Mada adjusted her layered skirts and kicked off" a pair of impossibly tall chopines as she glided across the front of the shop.

  Her lady's maid, Eva, scooped up the shoes and set them just inside the door to the shop. "Signorina Madalena," the girl said. "I'll walk down to the market to get the items your father requested. I'll return in thirty minutes?"

  "That's fine." Madalena dismissed the girl with a wave of her fingers.

  Cass had never been so relieved to see her friend. "Mada," she exclaimed. "There's been a mistake—surely you're the one getting fitted for your wedding dress? An alteration, perhaps?"

  Madalena's heart-shaped mouth widened into a grin. "My dress has been finished for weeks." She freed a tendril of her hair that had caught itself beneath the scooping neckline of her gown. "No, your aunt sent her dotty old handmaid to my palazzo with a message that I was to meet you here to share this special moment." She giggled.

  Cass worried she might throw up.

  Signor Sesti returned from the back room with a measuring ribbon and the two main fabrics Agnese had selected. Mada reached out to touch the bronze satin, fingering the metallic strands woven within the dyed fibers.

  "I love this one, don't you?" Mada chirped.

  Cass couldn't answer. She couldn't breathe; she had a desperate urge to undo her stays, as she had done with Falco on the bridge.

  Feeling as though she were in a dream, she allowed the tailor to lead her over to a small fitting room in the corner of the shop, while Mada followed behind them. Even when Siena helped remove her skirts and bodice, Cass still felt as though she were being squeezed from all sides.