Manfred—given the circumstances—didn't point out that it hadn't been his bed he was seeking. Or at least, not his own. And right now Erik wasn't picking up the undercurrent of Manfred's words as he usually did. In fact, he actually wandered off to his own quarters without making sure that Manfred was coming with him, which suited Manfred right down to the bone.
Erik was welcome to a quiet night. Manfred had other plans; the hellion Benito would either be along presently, or Manfred would go find him.
Manfred snorted with amusement at that thought. It was a shock to find himself doing Erik's usual job of slowing a tearaway down. Francesca was waist deep smiling on, and politicking with, old admirers. Manfred found being around while she dealt with them set his teeth on edge. So the last set of plans he'd made with the rascal were that they were off to a place Benito had found—good Sicilian music and some dancers that, according to young Benito, could make the tassels on their boobs do amazing things.
Manfred finally got tired of waiting for Benito to find him, and traced Benito down at the wine-butts. 'Let's go, tearaway. I find myself consumed with curiosity about these tassels.'
The boy swayed gently as he stood up. He was already half-drunk. Manfred was mildly surprised. The last week Benito had escorted him to choice taverns and nightspots but the boy seemed to have some degree of caution about wine. What was it that he'd said?
It had seemed to Manfred then that he was more inclined to drink enough to get up to devilry and stop there, than to go on to the fall-down stage. Odd. Distinctly odd. But none of his business, when all was said and done.
'Time to find the girls,' Benito said, and his speech was clear enough. 'There's no one here worth bothering about.'
Chapter 19
The evening was wearing on and Maria found herself exhausted. Now that the ceremony was over, and the banqueting begun, Maria had settled into having a tedious time. She'd been seated among the guests of honor, among the gilt and brightness, and had been very uncomfortable. And kept her mouth shut. Yes, she loved Kat, and she certainly had wanted to be with her for her wedding. Marco, the bridge-brat she'd seen grow up, had a special place in her heart, too.
But . . . That was Marco and Kat. Marco Valdosta and Katerina Montescue, in their magnificent finery, surrounded by
Benito had been seated as far as possible from her and Umberto. He'd tried to catch her eye, once; she'd looked down. Umberto had also been plainly uncomfortable among all those people who ordinarily he would only see at a distance; and a far distance, at that. Now that the guests were mingling, he'd hastily gone off to join his fellow guildsmen. She looked across to where he stood with several men, all gray haired, and all at this stage very jovial. Umberto looked happy, for the first time in ages.
Maria decided she'd had enough. Out in the piazza there'd be real music and singing. Real talk, about things she knew, not her trying to keep her mouth shut. She got up; Alessia was in a room just off the banqueting hall with a dry nurse, and by the feel of it Alessia could use some feeding.
She walked across the crowded room to Umberto, moving carefully on the slippery marble, pausing every other step to keep from jostling someone who was probably important. It took an age to go thirty feet. He was laughing when she reached him, and greeted her with a smile that spoke of both care and happiness. 'Ah, Maria! It is so good to be back in Venice again. Nice to be away from rude nature.'
She smiled back. She couldn't exactly tell him that she was finding the smell of the canals hard to live with. 'Yes. But I must go to the baby, husband.' He'd like that, being called
'She must be fed, and then I think I'll take her to our lodgings. It has been a long day, and I confess I'm tired.'
He took her arm. 'I'll come along to assist you home. A woman needs an escort on a night like this.'
Irritation flared. This being a good little wife was not something she did well. This was Venice.
She shook his arm off, but did it gently, so it didn't seem as if she was rejecting his help. 'I still need to feed Alessia, and then probably to change her.' That would put him off, quickly enough. 'It will take a while. Then the nurse can accompany me. She can do something to earn the wage that Katerina has paid her, and we'll take a gondola. You stay, please. You're enjoying yourself, and I don't want to spoil that for you. You won't see the other masters for a long time again.'
'You're sure?' He was plainly tempted, but he was dutiful. A solicitous hand touched her elbow.
'Absolutely. Enjoy yourself.' She kissed him on the cheek and went to find Alessia.
She found the salon easily enough. By ear. Alessia was bellowing. The dry nurse was nowhere to be seen. There were, however, five or six empty goblets, one of which lay on its side in a pool of spilled wine. Wine stained the satin of the chair that had been provided for the nurse. And Alessia was demanding instant attention. Hastily Maria struggled with her lacing and quelled the bellows, rage building inside her that she had to tamp down, lest it affect Alessia's feeding.
She'd just fed, winded, and changed Alessia when the nurse returned with a goblet in her hand, slightly unsteady on her feet.
Maria put Alessia down. Carefully. Only then did she round on the slut who'd deserted her baby. 'Where the hell have you been?' she demanded, anger putting an edge to her voice that only a drunk could have ignored.
The nurse, it seemed, was just such a drunk, and beamed at her. 'Just went to get a glass of wine, dearie. The poppet was sleeping beautifully.'
Fury passing all ability to use mere words seized Maria. She grabbed the woman and shook her like a rag doll. 'You . . . you
