Inez left it to Flo to work her way out of the situation. Inez had her own future to ponder. She suspected Poole had not been chary in telling Nico about her past, which meant she would have to “face the music” with Nico probably sooner rather than later. As they prepared to leave, Inez asked, “What about Mr. Welles?”
“He has his own way home,” said Nico. At the cloakroom, he helped her on with her manteau before shrugging into his new cloak. “Going back, it will be just us two.”
Which meant the reckoning could be sooner.
In the carriage, after he was sure Inez was settled on the bench across, Nico set his violin case on the seat beside him and sat back, gazing thoughtfully at Inez. The carriage squeaked into motion.
“So. I understand you are not a widow, Signora Stannert. Is this true?”
Damn it. How am I to keep this from coming down around my ears.
Inez looked out the window, grateful they had left the brightly lit central court of the Palace Hotel and rolled into the dim streets where he could not read her expression. “True, unless you count being a ‘grass widow’ as being a widow, which I do. My former husband is dead to me. As dead as if he lay six feet underground.”
A silence stretched between them, then Nico said, “Your husband. What did he do to earn such disgust from you?”
Inez regarded him, surprised at the personal turn of question. She had steeled herself, expecting questions about the saloon, demands about her part in its running, speculations about her social standing, and perhaps an interrogation into her familial lineage. Or even, God forbid, pointed inquiries about Reverend Sands, as it was possible Poole had somehow gained knowledge of her affair with the reverend. All of these topics she was prepared to dodge, if possible, or answer with shaded truths, if pressed.
But she was not expecting or prepared for this.
Still, it would be easy to answer, although not pleasant to say. “Well, if you must. I suppose I owe you that much, Mr. Donato, given how you no doubt feel I have deceived you, or at least led you astray in some respect as to my status and past. To be brief, he lied to me in one of the most heinous ways a husband can lie to a wife. He disappeared, without a trace, for more than a year. Then he returned, wanting to continue as if nothing at all had happened. I was tempted to do so until I found out he had been living as husband and wife with another woman, and this woman—” Inez took a deep breath to brace herself against the words—“was with child. His child. She came to town, confronted him and me in a very public location, and demanded he set me aside for her.” As she spoke, tears welled up.
She blinked them away, but Nico must have seen them or heard them in her voice. He handed her his handkerchief. “I am sorry. It is no matter. As Signora Sweet said, it is better to think of the present and the future. The past is gone. I care not what went before in your life. Although I was taken by surprise when Signore Poole told me.”
“What else did he tell you?” Inez was determined to hear it all, so she knew how much damage was done and how she might, if possible, repair it.
“It does not matter what else was said.” The carriage squeaked to a stop, and Nico looked out the window. “Ah. We are at the store. Will you indulge me for a few minutes before you return to your lodgings and Antonia?”
Inez acquiesced, glad there would be no more questions. Still, she wondered what Nico knew and what, more immediately, he had in mind.
Nico unlocked the store and ushered her in. He went over to the grand piano, remarking, “I have a request, Signora. I realized tonight you and I, we have not played together. In fact, am I right in thinking this was the first time I have performed for you?”
“Well, Mr. Donato, I would not presume you performed for me tonight. You and Mr. Welles enchanted everyone in the room, as I’m sure you know. However, you are correct. I’ll admit I also thought how strange it was, that in all these months, this was the first time I heard you play.”
“Since I practice at home and not at the store, it makes sense. But it does not excuse this lapse on my part. I have only heard you on the piano once, when you first visited my store. I was impressed, even then. I remember, you had such a light, sensitive touch. So. Tonight, I am decided. We will remedy this deficiency immediatamente.”
“Now?” She watched, bemused and intrigued, as he set his violin case on a small, round table of oriental design and opened the grand piano lid.
“Now.” He held out the chair for her.
She hesitated, but only briefly. After all, what harm can come of this?
Besides, her fingers had been aching for the coolness of ivory and ebony keys for some time. She had not sat at the piano for the past week, what with all that had been going on. Even before then, she played intermittently. The situation here was not like in Colorado, where she could turn to her parlor grand in her own home for solace, for reflection, whenever she pleased.
“Very well.” She took the chair and lifted the fallboard, exposing the keys.
He pulled out his violin. “What shall we play? The Kreutzer Sonata? Would you enjoy that? The piano score is here in the store, I know.”
“Perhaps another time. I would need to practice so as to not embarrass myself or frustrate you,” said Inez, a little horrified at the
