“That will present no problem. No one knows about my wife’s latest

…” He faltered. Answering this oaf’s rude questions about the most intimate details of his life took more willpower than he’d anticipated, but what choice did he have? “… about her latest miscarriage,” he continued. “However, everyone-the family, our friends, the servants-knows about the first one. So, like Emma, Stefania will go away for a while. It will be explained that, in order to insure against a recurrence of her difficulties, she has gone to a maternity rest home near Venice, where she can be professionally cared for at all times while she awaits the arrival of her baby. When she returns home, she will have the infant with her.”

Franco shrugged his approval. “And what about my job? If I went with Emma to Gignese.”

“Naturally, you would be given a leave with full pay.” That, Domenico thought, would be no hardship to himself. With Franco not acting as gamekeeper, he expected a considerable reduction in poaching, not that it mattered one way or the other. The animals on the de Grazia lands had never been a source of income. There had been no gamekeeper before Franco, and there would be none after, unless, God forbid, another girl in the family brought home a husband equally worthless.

“In addition, I would hope you would indulge me by accepting a gift of, say, ten thousand dollars-American dollars-as a small token of my gratitude, my sincere gratitude, to both of you.”

Franco darted a quick look at Emma, who responded with an uncertain shake of her head. But Domenico could see that she was thinking about it.

“Also,” he added silkily, “I couldn’t help but notice that your Lancia is showing its age, Franco. I was thinking it would be a pleasure to see you with a new one, perhaps a larger model?” The Lancia, too, had been his gift: a wedding present.