"Giovanna, we have arrived." Matteo's soft baritone nudged her awake. Opening her eyes, Giovanna's first glimpse was of her own hand resting on his chest. As his heart thumped rhythmically underneath her ear, her fingers gripped the soft fabric of his doublet. A bit further up and dangerously close, his chin (with the start of dark stubble), lips (plump, yet firm), nose (noble and straight), and eyes (intently watching) came into view.

"Hello," he whispered.

She bolted to a sitting position, angry with herself for allowing such intimacy, but thankful that no one else had been witness to the indiscretion. She must have fallen asleep, and now they had reached San Marco. Her embarrassment was unbearable.

"My apologies," she muttered, swinging the door open. Although the rain had slowed to a drizzle, the air was cold, and it felt like a thousand tiny blades against her face.

"It is quite all right," Matteo said with a hint of joviality in his voice.

Her heart sank. He no doubt found her actions amusing, probably even common. But what else would he have expected from the daughter of a plague doctor? Unlike him, she was raised to merely survive, not prosper. They were nothing alike and she'd been a fool to think they could work together to save Ottavia. Her impropriety was a perfect—and much needed—reminder of it.

Pulling her cloak's hood over her already soaked hair, Giovanna rushed out of the cabin without even saying goodbye.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Matteo yelled as she grabbed a wooden pillar and hoisted herself up to the dock. "Will you not wait for me?"

Giovanna didn't pause for an answer. Her feet splashed in the puddles as she cut across the piazzetta and ran past the Campanile before rounding the tall bell tower. Taking refuge under the adjoining arcade's sheltered walkway, she finally stopped and leaned against one of the stone columns. The torches lining the square cast nothing more than an eerie glow across the vast space shrouded in the rain's misty veil, but it was enough for her needs.

She had intended to run straight home, but suddenly Giovanna was reluctant to go. Telling herself she'd wait just a moment longer until her breathing was normalized, she eagerly searched for any signs of Matteo's approach. His short journey home would undoubtedly take him across her line of sight. She'd left him so abruptly—so rudely, in fact—that making sure he arrived at his destination was the least she could do, even if it only served to ease her own conscience.

Yes, that was all. She had no other reason for wanting to linger. Not to catch one more glimpse of his face, to perhaps see a longing in his gaze for the girl who'd disappeared into the night. That would be almost as bad as falling asleep in his arms.

The heaviness of her wet cloak weighed on her tired body, and Giovanna leaned against the stone colonnade for support, resting her cheek against the smooth surface. Shutting her eyes, she could still recall Matteo's beguiling scent: salty like the sea air constantly surrounding him, acrid from the smoke they'd escaped, and earthy thanks to the ambergris perfume he so fondly wore. When she looked up again, no matter how hard she squinted into the darkness, there was no movement at all in front of the basilica.

Had Matteo been held up by someone, and if so, was it friend or foe? Did he perhaps change his mind about going home and instead had taken the gondola elsewhere? Was he so little concerned by her sudden getaway that he wouldn't even try to follow?

The possibilities reeled in her head as Giovanna's labored gasps for air became more shallow again, but this time not from exertion. Ready to turn homeward before an attack of hysterics, it was only the appearance of a cloaked figure in the distance that made her pause. He walked with purpose, his long strides carrying him across the wet, stone surface. The rain made it impossible to distinguish his features, but it could have been no other than Matteo. In just a few hundred meters, he'd be across the piazza and at the threshold of his ancestral home. He'd disappear behind the wooden door before shutting out all remnants of their disturbing adventure.

Giovanna's resolve wavered. Matteo had risked not only his reputation, but also his well-being in helping her tonight. And she hadn't even acknowledged it. In fact, she'd done quite the opposite by forsaking all decorum when she'd left him in favor of her own dignity. And for what? Nothing had happened in the gondola. She'd merely rested her eyes. He hadn't deserved her ill-mannered rebuttal.

"Matteo!" she yelled, stepping out from behind the column.

He did not appear to hear and continued to hurry along.

A mix of panic and anticipation bubbled inside Giovanna, like a rising crescendo in one of Master Monteverdi's a capellas. She needed to catch him.

"Matteo!" she shouted once more as she ran out of the arcade's confines, not stopping until she was just an arm's length away. "I must—" she began, swallowing the rest of the words along with a mouthful of rain when the figure turned to acknowledge her presence.

Giovanna recoiled. It wasn't him. Instead of Matteo's handsome face, the mask of a grotesque demon stared back at her. She vehemently shook her head."Oh. You are not who I was looking for," she said, backing away before the stranger thankfully continued on his way.

"Is it me you seek?"

The question came from behind her, and Giovanna spun around. A small distance away, Matteo stood like a dramatically positioned statue with his cloak billowing around his legs and one hand held against his chest. The cold rain washing over his uncovered head didn't bother him. He could have been carved from marble; only the mischievous grin on his face bathed in the moonlight betrayed his realness.

Giovanna blinked rapidly to throw the water off her lashes. She hadn't missed him, after all.

She walked toward him, every step warming her from the inside as she closed in on the source of the proverbial flames. But something was wrong. As he slowly advanced, it became apparent that he was struggling, each step a chore. The slump in his shoulders and the limp in his walk were more pronounced that before, and Giovanna feared that his fall earlier had done more damage than she'd recognized.

"Are you in much pain? Do you need assistance?" she asked, running the last span to close the gap between them.

He didn't answer, instead looking at her with silent amusement as the previous smile still played on his lips.

Giovanna was never good at such games, and she was always the first to look away. But this time, she forced herself to stay focused. If she had changed her mind about running away, she needed to make her vacillation worthwhile.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you for risking everything tonight. I am truly appreciative."

Her heartfelt pronouncement was met with laughter. "You thought it best to extend your gratitude right here? Right now?" he asked with another chuckle, throwing his head back and extending his arm, the upturned palm catching the rain.

Giovanna shrugged. "Better now than never," she said with a coy puck of her own lips. Frivolity suited him, and it was easy to follow the lead.

But apparently exhaustion played with Matteo's mood just as much as it did with hers, and he quickly turned serious. "Thanks and good-bye: was that your plan? Did you intend to end our search now?" he asked, dropping his arm and with it, his cheery demeanor. "Surely one failure doesn't curtail your quest for justice?"

She had no such intentions. In fact, Giovanna had not even thought about how to proceed, making his assumption of her willingness to give up so easily sting that much more. Tears clouded her eyes.

"No, of course not. But it is late—"

He grabbed her hand as she was about to turn away. "Forgive me. I am not thinking straight, it seems. As you say, it is late and I should have simply said 'you are most welcome.'"

Giovanna relished his touch, even through the gloves. How could she fault him for overreacting when she had just done the same?

With a sniffle, she nodded. "It appears we are both acting out of impulse. Rest shall do us well," she said, already dreading parting ways again as she reached into her pocket for her mask. While tonight she wasn't impersonating her father, she'd brought the plain Volta to minimize the chance of recognition while breaking curfew. But as she pulled the contoured leather out, it slipped through her fingers and fell at her feet.

Ever the gentleman, Matteo acted first. Bending at the waist, he only got half way before he stopped. "Ow," he groaned, slowly righting himself again.

Giovanna quickly picked up the mask and stepped closer. "You are hurting," she said with sympathetic derision. One of the worst things a patient could ever do was be untruthful to a physician, yet his need to appear invincible was admirable.

Matteo winced. "A bit, yes. But only when I breathe or move," he added with a laugh, which caused more pain that resulted in added squirming.

Giovanna carefully looped her arm around his back. "You need to return home at once," she said, already guiding him toward the family's palazzo.

"Can you not stay?" he asked as he hobbled beside her.

She looked over at him. "For what purpose? I cannot treat you for my supplies are all at home."

"For now I will take a thorough examination to certify that I will live and perhaps the extended pleasure of your company," he said.

The offer was tempting and for several paces, Giovanna said nothing as she thought it over. Her father had shown much improvement during the day, having conversed and eaten multiple times while she had gone about her work. Her absence for the rest of the night would be unnoticed and therefore, the least of her worries.

Matteo's intentions were another matter, yet she had attended to him before and he'd behaved honorably. Not risking the perilous trip across the city was a bonus. Which left just one obstacle.

"How will you get me inside undetected? Surely you don't want anyone to see—"

"There is a back entrance," he cut her off, having an answer at the ready. "It is how I left earlier this evening, and it will keep our comings and goings only between us."

"I suppose I have no arguments, then," Giovanna said, attempting to sound less enthusiastic than how she really felt. "If this is truly what you wish."

"It is," he said, stopping at the base of the basilica's clock tower. "And here we are."

Giovanna had walked under the stone arch hundreds of times, yet never before had she noticed the door embedded in one side. She stepped back to allow Matteo to unlock it, then watched as he pulled the wooden panel open.

He held out his hand. "The corridor is narrow and dark. I will lead you to my chambers, but you'll have to trust me. Ready?"