looked up to
absolutely desperate. “I—got this today—”
He handed a square of creamy vellum to Aldanto; feeling a terrible foreboding, Caesare opened it.
It proved to be nothing more than a simple invitation for Marco—and a friend, if he chose—to come to dinner at Dorma, to be introduced to the Family.
Aldanto heaved a sigh of relief. “One may guess,” he said, handing the invitation back to Marco, “That Milord Petro Dorma has received your grandfather’s letter.” The boy’s expression didn’t change. “So what on earth is wrong?”
“It’s—it’s me, Caesare,” the boy blurted unhappily. “I was a child the last time I was in a noble’s household. I don’t know . . . how to act, what to say, what to wear . . .”
He looked at Caesare with a pleading panic he hadn’t shown even when he’d known his life hung in the balance. “Please, Caesare,” he whispered, “I don’t know how to do this!”
Caesare restrained his urge to laugh with a control he hadn’t suspected he had. “You want me to help coach you, is that it?”
Marco nodded so hard Caesare thought his head was going to come off. He sighed.
“All right, young milord—let’s see if we can create a gentleman out of you.” He smiled dryly. “You may wish yourself back in the swamp before this is over!” Inwardly he smiled. This might be tedious, but it would be valuable.
Chapter 50
“I don’t believe we’ve met before, Father Lopez, although I’ve seen you several times at the Doge’s soirees.” Francesca glanced at Pierre and Diego, who were sitting in their own chairs in her salon not far from the Basque priest. “I’m acquainted with your two companions, somewhat, from the last such event.” She pointed at Diego, and then Pierre. “He has an excellent wit, and the other laughs quite nicely. But I suspect you didn’t come here to engage in humorous repartee. Nor, I’m quite sure, for the other reason gentlemen pay me a visit.”
Lopez smiled. “Call me Eneko, if you would. The first thing I’d like to dispense with is formality.”
“Good y