Benito shrugged. “It’s too late, Kat. I know Marco. It is a question of honor. He’s made his decision. He’ll live by it.”
Kat sighed. She should have trusted her heart and gone and talked him out of it. “He made it after he got that stupid letter from me.” Well, marriages could be annulled. It wasn’t easy, but once she had the real father . . . “I need to know who the father is, Benito. I’ll find out. Every Strega scryer in this town relies on us. So you might as well tell me.”
Benito shook his head. “Who did Marco tell that he was the father? There’s your answer. And it is no help to you, Kat.”
Marco told Maria. . . . “Caesare?” she asked, weakly.
Benito nodded. “After Marco’s silly love poems made Caesare know the Case Vecchie girl had the hots for him, he made a move.”
She’d even seen them together, she now realized. At that ridotto—true, Angelina had been masked, but the hair was recognizable. “Maria?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Doesn’t know. I mean, she was after Caesare about him having another woman. But she doesn’t know who, or even for sure. Hey—you leave her out of this, Kat! Look, there is no way the Dorma would have taken Aldanto. He’s an ex-Montagnard. Forget about Marco. All you can do is wreck his life, and wreck Maria’s. I know my brother. He won’t back out. I’m sorry . . .”
Kat’s head was whirling. She put it in her hands.
“Have some wine,” said Benito gently, pushing the glass to her.
She took the wine. The harsh ruby liquid slopped a little. “You’re his brother!?” There was a small sameness about the mouth, and in mannerisms . . .
Benito nodded. “I don’t think we have the same father,” he said wryly. “But yes, I’m Marco’s brother. And believe me, Kat. Best thing you can do is leave him to get on with life with Angelina Dorma.”
“Your name is Valdosta?”
Benito nodded. “Benito Valdosta. But I don’t advertise it. After Mama was killed we went into hiding. Marco took off into the Jesolo. I lived in an attic and was a sneak thief. Then someone tried to kill Marco, about a year ago. Assassin. Professional. So I took him to Caesare.”
“Someone tried to kill him?”
“Yes. Marco kind of assumed it was someone from the Council of Ten. But later we decided maybe it was the Montagnards.”
Kat closed her eyes. “Dear God!” That was Grandpapa!
“He didn’t even get hurt,” said Benito reassuringly, but she wasn’t listening anymore. She stared into nothing for a moment. Then she stood up.
“Don’t ever tell anyone your name,” she said harshly. “Never. Not anyone. Or go to Dorma for protection. And whatever you do, don’t tell Aldanto.” And she walked away.
* * *
Giaccomo was watching them out the corner of his eye, so Benito was doing his damnedest to act virtuous.
“—I can’t believe it,” Mercutio said, leaning back in his chair against the wall, and sipping at his brandy, his eyes alight with laughter. Jeppo cleared away their plates, with an odd look at Benito, but didn’t say anything. Benito concentrated on being very well behaved. This was Giaccomo’s after all, and if he did anything, Maria would hear about it. He wasn’t even drinking brandy, though Mercutio had offered it, he was sticking to wine. Watered wine. He’d have a halo at this rate.
Outside Giaccomo’s open door there were canalers lounging on his porch, mugs and glasses in hand, enjoying the balmy evening. He and Mercutio had the taproom pretty much to themselves.
“I just can’t believe it'” Mercutio repeated, chuckling. “I leave this town, and the very next day all hell breaks loose! And me not here to help it along!” He shook his head mockingly. “I can see I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up—”
Suddenly he leaned forward, and his tone grew conspiratorial. “That’s where you come in, kid. If you want in. Because I need a lookout and a housebreaker for a little piece of work.”
Benito brightened. “‘Course I want in!” He replied softly. “What’d you take me for? What’s the action?”