The Plague Doctor's Daughter

30. Giovanna

What Matteo had called a back entrance to Palazzo Barozzi granted admittance only to those who were fortunate enough to be in on its secret. Taking the windowless staircase that wound itself up, up, and even further up made Giovanna feel like a thief sneaking into a world that wasn't hers, and only her fondness for the man in the lead made her willing to continue.

After finally ending their ascent, they crept down a long passageway, the darkness here still so deep that it didn't matter whether she kept her eyes open or closed. The lack of fresh air gave the exposed stone walls on either side a damp, musty smell, which was only second worst to the occasional spider's web that became entangled in her hair. By the time Matteo had stopped, Giovanna had truly had enough of the experience.

"Is this—"

"Ssh," he hushed her, tapping on the wall before pushing the right spot to open a hidden door.

Giovanna followed him inside, a blazing fire in the hearth welcoming their arrival.

"Yes, this is my bedchamber," he said once the door had been secured behind them, as if the large, canopied bed hadn't been a clear indication. "Please, make yourself at home."

Her father's entire loft—with areas for cooking, sleeping, and working all in a single space—could easily have fit into this one room alone, yet this was just part of the family's residence. The sitting room that Giovanna had visited as the plague doctor a few days earlier was on the other side of the door, and past that, numerous other such chambers stood on multiple levels. The fancy rugs and drapery, the imposing paintings and frescoes, and the sparkling chandeliers and candelabras were things more suited to a patrician's daughter like Ottavia, not her.

Trying not to laugh at the absurd notion that she could ever feel at home in the opulent surroundings, Giovanna untied her cloak. "Where can I . . .?" she asked, holding up the sopping wet garment.

"There." Matteo nodded toward a dressing screen with pictures of colorful birds and exotic flowers decorating its four panels and providing privacy to anyone behind it. "You can drape it on the corner. I would do it for you, but I'm having enough trouble with my own."

"Here, let me," she said, offering him assistance in slipping out of his own cloak after she'd hung hers. Leaving that one as well to dry, she returned to Matteo.

"I suppose I should check the extent of your injuries," she said, feeling a warmth creep into her cheeks while wondering whether he realized how hands-on such an examination needed to be.

Her reaction didn't go unnoticed.

"Are you blushing?" he asked, touching her face with the back of his fingers. They were cool, but gentle and she inadvertently gasped.

"Not at all." Giovanna shook her head. "I'm here in a purely professional capacity, which you should not forget," she lied, even though she strongly doubted that he believed her. Her attraction to Matteo must have been apparent even to a blind man.

"I will request nothing that I wouldn't want, nor will I do anything that you won't allow," he said with a mischievous smile, making her face burn even more. Thankfully, this time he didn't dwell on the reaction and instead began to unbutton his doublet. Made of a deep crimson satin and decorated with gold thread, it was a beautiful—and no doubt expensive—piece of craftsmanship.

She helped slip it off, but stopped him before he went further. "You may keep the shirt," Giovanna said, even as she imagined the rippling muscles hidden underneath the white cotton.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I will work around it."

"Very well. Where do you want me?" he asked, looking around the room. "In that chair, perhaps? Or by the fire?"