The Night Angel Read Online Free PDF Page A

do not wish for me to wed him.”
    “He is . . .” Alessandro Gavi restrained his objections with great effort. He was, after all, a diplomat. “Falconer is a strong ally and a trusted one. But he . . . well . . . Daughter, surely you must see . . .”
    “He is not appropriate,” Bettina Gavi finished. “He does not suit your background, your station, or your family.”
    “I will not argue such points with you,” Serafina quietly responded. She had wondered for weeks how best to approach the subject and found herself relieved that it was now out in the open. “I will not argue with you over the choice of husband at all. I have sought to go my own way. It almost destroyed us all. It will not happen again.”
    She could see her parents were taken aback by her declaration. Bettina Gavi recovered first. “You sound so . . . so . . . what can I say? So deliberate, so unemotional.”
    “Which is exactly how I feel. My heart has been cauterized. At night, when I lie awake and consider my future, or at dawn in my prayers, I wonder if ever I shall be able to fully love a man again. Most times I doubt it very much.”
    Tears sprang to her mother’s eyes. “It breaks my heart to hear you speak so.”
    “I pray I am wrong. The Scriptures speak of God’s power to soothe all such wounds of the heart. But even the apostle Paul carried something that pained him deeply all his life. I wonder if perhaps this is my thorn, if my heart will remain so small that I can only know fondness for a man and nothing more.”
    “Daughter . . .” Once more her father, normally so ebullient and vocal, looked at a loss for words. “It troubles me to hear you speak so intensely of religion.”
    “It is not religion, Papa. It is faith. It resides in the core of my being.”
    He opened his mouth to say more but was halted by his wife’s hand settling upon his arm. Bettina asked, “You wish for us to select a husband, my dear?”
    “In truth, I would prefer never to marry.” Serafina raised her voice to stop the protests before they could be expressed. “But I know this is impossible. So I ask you for more time, in hopes that normal emotions will be restored.”
    “How much time?”
    “I would wish for years if you would grant them. Decades. A lifetime. But I will merely ask for as long as you will grant me, and not a day longer.” Again the burning behind her eyes threatened to overwhelm her. This time a single tear did manage to escape, for she knew this agreement would further wound a good and trusted friend. “Now if you will excuse me, I must speak with Falconer.”
    “Serafina . . .”
    She was reluctant to turn back, for she feared her resolve would collapse and she would sob away her control. “Yes?”
    But her mother merely said, “Be gentle with him.”
    John Falconer was not pleased with himself, his station, or his future. All was bleak. He could not even say he had served God well this day. He was sitting in the farthest corner of the hotel lobby, his head leaning against his fists.
    He was angry with himself for having spoken and acted so brutishly in the legate’s chambers. It did not matter that no one else condemned him. Falconer was harsher with himself than he would ever be with another. Today, though, he truly had erred. No matter how foppish and arrogant the prince might have been, no matter what insinuations he might have cast in Serafina’s direction, Falconer knew he had acted irresponsibly and recklessly. His ire had little to do with the legate.
    “Commander Falconer?” came a voice above him.
    Reluctantly he raised his head and found himself looking at the young man who had doffed his hat as they departed the legate’s chamber. “I have never held the honor of such status, sir.”
    “Might I inquire of your proper rank?”
    “Captain, but in the merchant navy only. And that was some time ago.”
    “Would you mind if I joined you, sir?”
    Falconer wished only to be alone. But his solitude offered