Page 92 of Vengeance in Venice
Foscolo rose to his feet and lifted the dagger from the table. He wrapped it in the cloth Constance had found for the purpose and hid it beneath his coat. “A less public progress through the streets, this time.”
Solomon’s face darkened along the blades of his cheekbones, and Constance realized with astonishment that he was blushing. He must, in fact, have looked a demented and terrifying figure, rampaging through the streets, quite unaware of the dagger still clutched in his bloody hand.
“I thought I might show it to Signora Savelli,” Foscolo said. “She deserves to know the outcome of all this.”
Giusti glanced up. “Are you going there now?”
“On my way back to the office.”
Giusti stood up, almost but not quite casual. “I’ll come with you,” he said.
Constance smiled.
When they had gone, Kellar picked up his wine glass, twisting the stem absently in his fingers. “What will you do now? Shake the dust—or the water!—of Venice from your feet and move on?”
Solomon’s good fingers wrapped around Constance’s hand, and she smiled because she understood. Somehow, the magic was still there, and they would not waste it. “Oh no. It is too soon to leave.”
Kellar’s lips quirked. “You are a rare and brave couple. Don’t get into any more mischief while I am gone.”
“You are leaving Venice?”
“I am required in Rome. At the Vatican. I depart tomorrow.” He finished his wine and set down the glass in a decisive sort of way. Still, he hesitated, before speaking with unusual diffidence. “After that, I shall be on leave. I had thought of a visit to England. I wanted to ask you—would it be…advisable to call upon your mother?”
How to answer that? He was the first man Constance had encountered who had ever looked on her mother through a lens of romance and respectability. How would he face the reality of Juliet, colorful and unbowed but nevertheless damaged by drink and by men? More to the point, how would Juliet face him? Constance’s instinct told her it would be cruel to inflict such painful humiliation on her mother. But that was not really her decision to make.
Solomon took several visiting cards from his pocket and selected one, which he passed to Kellar. “Why don’t you call on us? Whatever Juliet decides, we will be delighted to see you again.”
Constance regarded him with considerable respect, as Kellar inclined his head before taking his leave.
“You really are wonderful,” she said to her husband as they stood on the balcony, waving to Kellar in his boat. “I didn’t know what to say to him.”
“Oh, I am wonderful in so many ways,” he said with light self-mockery.
She gripped his hand. “You are. But no more plans that keep mesafe.”
“It does seem that you are only safe under my eye,” Solomon agreed.
“I would not go that far.”
He smiled and leaned on the balcony rail. She leaned on him.
“Do you think Elena will marry Giusti in the end?” she asked.
“Probably. If they learn to put each other first at least some of the time.”
“I think they will. I think they have. Like us old married people.”
Beneath them, the water rippled and shone, and boats glided by in the sunshine. In the distance, a gondolier broke into song. Closer by, a shopkeeper and a tradesman were quarrelling and gesticulating. Tranquil and vital, Venice endured. And so did they.
