Death of a Duchess

Начало книги

‘From this very bed she was snatched!’

The Lord Jacopo di Torre’s long sleeve followed his dramatic gesture and swept a scent bottle from the bedside chest. The Duke’s emissary, with an agility unexpected in one of his strong build, caught it, and stood turning it as if to admire the carved onyx and gold. Jacopo waited for a comment about the bed, whose sheets had been wrenched back, pillows tossed abroad, with every sign of a violent struggle. There could be no doubt that he was right. This had been the very bed.

‘You heard nothing?’ asked the deep foreign voice.

Jacopo’s hands, waiting for the next gesture, balled themselves and struck at his forehead. ‘Nothing. Dear Mother of God, I sleep like the dead!’

The emissary’s dark eyes genially surveyed the door full of servants who gaped and manoeuvred for a better view. ‘And no one else heard anything?’

Heads were shaken. An elderly woman in an extinguishing head kerchief kept up a low wail amid her linen. Jacopo glanced at her with irritation. ‘Even my sister slept. No one heard anything. In this whole household, every living soul slept!’

Читать дальше →