The Plague Doctor's Daughter

23. Giovanna

Giovanna was angry.

No, angry was not a strong enough word. She was furious. She was enraged. Livid, even. And as her feet instinctively took her out of the misty maze behind the basilica to approach the Piazza from the north, her mind raced with equal fervor.

All her life she'd been discounted, occasionally due to her age, but always because of her gender. First, it was her mother—God rest her soul—telling her what girls could or could not do. Then briefly her husband took over chastising her for unladylike behavior.

Only her father had ever encouraged Giovanna to pursue her passions and make use of her talents, and today was no different. Yet the fact that the most recent rebuke came from someone who'd already witnessed her capabilities first hand made it that much worse.

The procurator's son owed his seamless recuperation to her, but apparently that wasn't enough for him to trust her with caring for Don Delfini. And not only did Matteo neglect to thank her for pointing out his foolishness in choosing the ducal residence for assistance, but he also relegated her to hide away in his home until he could return. The absolute gall of the man!

But as Giovanna neared the Procuratie Vecchie, her thoughts unwittingly drifted from having stumbled into palace intrigue to something more personal.

Matteo Barozzi, for all intents and purposes, had kissed her. He'd kissed her, a married woman whose husband they had barely just left behind to possibly die in a damp prison cell. Worst of all, he'd prefaced the act with a clear statement indicating his distaste for what was about to happen. And still, Giovanna now wet her lip with the tip of her tongue as she recalled how Matteo's mouth had felt on hers—soft, full, and warm, remaining in contact for a moment longer than what was probably necessary.

Turning the final corner, she also couldn't help, but remember the weight of his body against hers, the warmth passing between them, and the brief exhilaration she'd gotten from his passionate touch. Of course, it was all to shield them from suspicion as potential witnesses to a crime, and yet . . ..

Giovanna raised her fist to knock on the palazzo's door before finishing her thought.

And yet nothing.

She was foolish for even pretending that her daydreams had any merit. Matteo lived in this elegant house just a stone's throw from the Republic's seat of power where he himself held a chair as a member of its elite Council. He had a title, money, and a reputation. To him, she was just a means to an end—first as a physician to heal and more recently as an alibi to live. She had to stop thinking any different.

When the door opened, she was ready to give her apologies for the disturbance and instead of staying as promised, head home. But the sight of the boy who'd two days earlier had opened this very door to her as she was leaving gave her pause.

"Are you unwell?" she asked in place of a more proper greeting while looking at his ashen skin and sunken, bloodshot eyes.

The boy's expression immediately changed from weary to panicked as he stepped closer and waved for her to lower her voice. "Please, signora. You must not make such accusations. I've merely had a sleepless night, that is all," he pleaded as a dark stain colored the fabric at his wrist, sign of a careless move over the juices of a roast in the kitchen, no doubt.

Seeing no evidence of buboes or fever, Giovanna decided to accept the boy's explanation. "Of course. But perhaps you should ask Don Barozzi for a more comfortable chair," she said, recalling how Matteo had caught the boy sleeping on the job.

The servant's brows furrowed. "Do you know me?" he asked suspiciously.

It was at that point that Giovanna realized she'd said too much. She'd been in the Barozzi household only once and even then, it was in the guise of a plague doctor. Revealing that she'd seen the boy before meant giving away her secret.