bella,’ Signor Maleovelli said. ‘Lord Waterford and I have just been arranging a time of mutual convenience to talk further on this matter. Is that not right, Signor?’ Signor Maleovelli reached inside his jacket. ‘This is my card. I would be delighted if you would call upon us soon. I will ask my man to speak to yours, shall I?’
‘That would be … most delightful,’ said Lord Waterford, his eyes dusting first Giaconda, then me. I could tell that while he would go ahead with this meeting, it was against his better judgement. I longed to touch this man, to find out more about him. Well, if he came to the casa, I would perhaps have that chance.
‘Till the next time we meet, then,’ said Signor Maleovelli and gave the ambassador a dignified nod of his head.
Lord Waterford bowed, an elegant, practised one. ‘I will look forward to it very much, Signor Maleovelli, Signorina Giaconda and Signorina Tarlo.’
‘You will not forget?’ asked Giaconda.
‘How could I? I don’t think I will ever forget the jewels that grace this evening – the emerald lady and the Signorina Dorata. I doubt anyone will.’
Signorina Dorata? It took me a moment to realise Lord Waterford meant me.
‘Signorina Dorata?’ Giaconda’s eyes widened and then she laughed and stood back to study me momentarily. ‘Very appropriate, Lord Waterford. It’s a name, a title, I think my sister will wear with honour. Grazie.’
‘Prego,’ said Lord Waterford. ‘But I cannot claim to have invented it. I am simply repeating what everyone else has been calling her.’
Giaconda took my arm again and we followed Signor Maleovelli from the room, nodding to those who called out farewells. The Doge had long left his party; the dais and his throne were abandoned.
I barely remembered being ushered into my cape, descending the staircases or coming out into the fresh early morning air, crossing the piazza and rousing Salzi, who was asleep in the felze. All I could think about was Lord Waterford’s description of me.
I huddled beside Giaconda, too tired to listen to the Maleovellis’ self-congratulations and analysis of the evening. All I could think about was the uncanny coincidence.
‘Did you hear what he called her, Papa?’ Giaconda was full of life, high on the success of the evening, despite the hour. ‘Signorina Dorata!’ She clapped her hands in glee.
Signor Maleovelli regarded her fondly. ‘She was a greater success than we ever could have hoped. You did well, mia cara. We did well.’
They continued to speak about me as if I didn’t exist. I was grateful. My mind was roiling with confusion, with the impossibility of it all.
In a matter of months, I had gone from being Dante’s Dorato – his little golden boy, to the golden lady of Serenissima – Signorina Dorata.
I didn’t know whether to laugh in triumph or cry at what it all signified. I was too exhausted. My body ached, my feet were leaden and my brain was full of the faces, sights and conversations I had participated in, the danger I had narrowly escaped simply by being there. The tension that had kept me upright and focused all night began to leave my body.
I snuggled into the cushions, rearranging my dress slightly. We passed over the water and, through the window, I could see out on the ocean beyond the Arsenale, the silhouettes of masts as the sun crawled over the horizon, turning the water into a bronze disc. A flat golden orb. Dorato, dorata. Like the ships anchored in the lagoon, I wondered where this new name would take me. What I would become. Would it set me free as we hoped, or would it be a burden that would secure me nothing but trouble?
As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait for very long to find out.
DANTE WAS AWARE OF THE OWNER of Taverna di Segretezza’s eyes upon him as he gently wiped Katina’s brow.
‘She’s not improving.’ Dante turned round and looked at Signor Vestire helplessly. ‘I don’t know what to do, Signor.’ For the last five days, he’d sat by Katina’s bed and watched as her body withered away before his eyes. At first, he’d refused to let anyone come near her, but now, when he had lost all hope, he’d admitted Vestire. He gazed at the kind man now. ‘Tell me. What do I do?’
Signor Vestire stepped closer. Dante could see a tic in his cheek pulsing frantically as he stared at Katina. He was working hard not to let the apprehension he