Inamorata Read Online Free PDF Page B

went to the door and opened it. “I’ll arrange for a gondolier to take you around—”
    “No, please. The expense—”
    “I insist on this, Sophie. For now I want to know you’re safe without me. And anyway, we want to set the right impression, don’t we? People sense desperation. We won’t get what we want if we appear to want it too badly.”
    I gave him a pert smile. “Of course. Why, I wouldn’t think of going about Venice without an escort—how scandalous! I am the very respectable sister of Joseph Hannigan, after all.”
    He laughed and gave me an admiring look that warmed me. “Why, you make me half believe it.” Then, before he ducked out the door, “Not on your own, Soph, not to save a few francs. Take the gondolier. I mean it. Or I’ll spend the whole afternoon at the Doge’s Palace just to spite you.”
    “Very well,” I promised.
    Once he was gone, I forced my uneasiness away and made myself think of what I must do. We had enough money for only a few days at the Danieli, which meant I had to find us something else quickly. I finished with the rest of my toilette, and then I pulled on my hat and my gloves, leaving my coat behind. The day was beautiful, the damp chill of last night already a distant memory.
    As I went downstairs and stepped again into the opulent lobby of the Danieli, I was struck once more with that sense of imposture. Two well-dressed women, one wearing a frighteningly expensive-looking fringed silk shawl, talked near the desk. I remembered what Joseph had said about impressions, and summoned my confidence. Pretending that the elegance of the Danieli was not just something I expected, but my due, I gave them my best smile. Their glances turned curious and measuring, and I felt a frisson of fear that I’d made a mistake, that they somehow knew of me. But then they looked away. There were several other people about, a gentleman sitting negligently in a silk-upholstered chair, smoking a cigar that filled the whole lobby with its stink, an older couple, another man with a woman who looked to be his sister, but I avoided meeting any other eyes and went to the desk. “I’m Sophie Hannigan,” I told the man there. “My brother was to make arrangements—”
    “Your gondolier awaits, Miss Hannigan,” said the man with a smile. He rang a little bell, and when a porter came hurrying over, he directed, “Please show Miss Hannigan to Marco.”
    I was led out to the water steps, to the gondolier Marco. He was as tall as my brother, though Marco’s shoulders were broader, his forearms corded with muscle beneath the rolled sleeves of his shirt. He was bronzed and smiling, with such an air of good health and amiability that I trusted him immediately.
    He held out his hand for me, flashing adorably crooked teeth, and introduced himself as “Marco, who will soon be your favorite gondolier in all of Venice.”
    “Sophie Hannigan,” I answered with a smile as he helped me into the boat. Like last night’s gondola, the cabin on this one had been removed, but in its place there was an awning striped white and blue. Beneath that was a seat of black leather cushions, with two other smaller seats on either side, and a gray carpet below. Marco moved to his spot at the stern while a boy pushed the neck of the prow from the mooring post.
    “Where will you go, padrona ?” Marco asked. “I am yours all day.”
    He made it sound almost indecent; I had to resist the urge to look at him again, and I was glad he couldn’t see my face. I remembered what my research had told me, that the gondoliers were the best source for information in the city. “I’m looking for a more permanent lodging, a place to rent for my brother and myself for a few months. Nothing too expensive.”
    “Ah, you must leave it to me.” He immediately swung the huge oar in its lock so we turned about, and we moved away from the sparkling Bacino, slinking into a narrow canal. It seemed to lead us into a strange and