strengthen Venice more than to weld Valdosta reborn—and Dell’este—to the house of Dorma.”
Except a marriage between Valdosta and Montescue, came the whimsical thought. But Marina dismissed the notion as a ridiculous fancy. Lodovico Montescue would disrupt any such wedding by having the groom assassinated as he walked to the altar.
“The Valdosta name, which is still a powerful thing, would give weight to Petro Dorma’s position. And, as I’m sure you’ve come to realize yourself, he’s the best of the lot. Potentially, the leadership which Venice will need—does need, already.”
Marco hung his head. He was listening, at least. Marina started to add more, but decided not to do so. Anything more, at this point, would be counterproductive. Marco Valdosta had a fierce sense of honor. Give the boy time, and he would make the right decision.
“I’ve got to talk to Kat,” he whispered. When he lifted his head, his eyes were blurred with tears. The sight was heart-breaking.
“Talk to her then,” said Luciano. “But please, Marco—remember your responsibilities.”
It was time to change the subject. “So. When are you being officially presented to the city?”
Marco smiled wanly. “Tomorrow night, at the Doge’s Levee.”
“Splendid!”
“I think I’d rather go anywhere else,” muttered Marco. “Even the Jesolo.”
Chapter 67
Kat was whistling. A terrible un-genteel habit, as Alessandra told her frequently. Right now the