And I reckon Kat can trust her. She owes Kat, and she doesn’t forget a debt.”
Kat stared at him. “Maria? But what about . . . Caesare?”
“He threw her out.”
“Tell her to come to me,” said Kat decisively.
Her grandfather actually managed a chuckle. That was a good sign. “Minx. We can’t afford any more people.”
“We can afford a roof. And food. And maybe a bit for risks.”
The old man shrugged. “Find a roof that doesn’t leak at Montescue these days! But you’ve made up your mind, Kat. I know I’m wasting my time.”
“You won’t regret it, sir,” said Benito earnestly. “I’ll get word to her, Kat. She needs a woman-friend right now. Might take her a day or two to make up her mind, huh? She’s really stiff-canaler proud. But I’ll talk to her. Well, can I call you a gondola?”
“Thank you. You’re a good lad, Dorma.”
Benito smiled. “My name is not Dorma, sir. It’s Valdosta. The good one is my brother.”
They were silent for a good part of the voyage. Finally Lodovico sighed. “So. I was wrong about them. But Kat . . . The Montescue will not pursue the vendetta. My promise. But he is married, Katerina. I want your promise. You will leave him alone.”
Kat sighed. “It wouldn’t make any difference. You don’t know him. He won’t do anything no matter what. Sometimes Grandpapa, I think we could choke on our own honor. And Marco is like that. Dorma tricked him into marrying that sister . . .”
“He had to do that, child,” Lodovico said stiffly. “You shouldn’t know about that sort of thing, but honor demands—”
“I’ll bet that child has a good chance at a blond head of hair, Grandpapa!” snapped Kat angrily. “And not dyed blond like its mama, either.”
A short time after, still angry, Kat was back to glaring at her grandfather. “And what’s this mention you made earlier of a ‘Francesca’ telling you this and that? Surely—”
Lodovico’s face was as stiff as a board. “My own grandfather!”
Kat stared at him. “Maria? But what about . . . Caesare?”
“He threw her out.”
“Tell her to come to me,” said Kat decisively.
Her grandfather actually managed a chuckle. That was a good sign. “Minx. We can’t afford any more people.”
“We can afford a roof. And food. And maybe a bit for risks.”
The old man shrugged. “Find a roof that doesn’t leak at Montescue these days! But you’ve made up your mind, Kat. I know I’m wasting my time.”
“You won’t regret it, sir,” said Benito earnestly. “I’ll get word to her, Kat. She needs a woman-friend right now. Might take her a day or two to make up her mind, huh? She’s really stiff-canaler proud. But I’ll talk to her. Well, can I call you a gondola?”
“Thank you. You’re a good lad, Dorma.”
Benito smiled. “My name is not Dorma, sir. It’s Valdosta. The good one is my brother.”
They were silent for a good part of the voyage. Finally Lodovico sighed. “So. I was wrong about them. But Kat . . . The Montescue will not pursue the vendetta. My promise. But he is married, Katerina. I want your promise. You will leave him alone.”
Kat sighed. “It wouldn’t make any difference. You don’t know him. He won’t do anything no matter what. Sometimes Grandpapa, I think we could choke on our own honor. And Marco is like that. Dorma tricked him into marrying that sister . . .”
“He had to do that, child,” Lodovico said stiffly. “You shouldn’t know about that sort of thing, but honor demands—”
“I’ll bet that child has a good chance at a blond head of hair, Grandpapa!” snapped Kat angrily. “And not dyed blond like its mama, either.”
A short time after, still angry, Kat was back to glaring at her grandfather. “And what’s this mention you made earlier of a ‘Francesca’ telling you this and that? Surely—”
Lodovico’s face was as stiff as a board. “My own grandfather!”