Black Bridge Read Free Page B

about?”
    â€œAbsolutely none! How could he? There’s nothing in those things but envy and mean-spiritedness! He’s one of the most upright people I know. I have a nose for falseness”—she had a fine patrician nose which did, indeed, seem made for scenting out the undesirable—“and Bobo is as true as they come. He’s being done an abominable injustice and I want you to get to the bottom of it. You will, won’t you?”
    â€œWhat did he say about that?”
    â€œOh, he’s so self-sacrificing! He said there isn’t any need for you—or anyone—to do anything, it will all blow over, but I don’t believe him. What I mean ,” she clarified, “is that, yes, I believe him, but he’s wrong. It isn’t over. He’s trying to minimize things for my sake. But with you, he might tell the truth. I mean,” she repeated with a touch of impatience, “that with you he’ll be more inclined to say how he really feels about this beastly situation!”
    â€œAh, but you’re wrong, Barbara dear,” a deep male voice said in British-inflected English from the doorway. “What I tell you and what I tell others will always be the same. On that you can rest secure. You must be Barbara’s dear friend Urbino. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
    The Barone Casarotto-Re strode over and looked down at Urbino from his six-plus feet of height. He grasped Urbino’s hand and gave it a firm shake.
    3
    Everything about the Barone Roberto Casarotto-Re seemed to shout with vigor—his clear dark eyes, his olive skin, his sinewy figure, even his white hair, which had receded but not noticeably thinned. The Barone’s teeth, however, were perhaps too white and too regular to be real.
    Before Urbino had time to realize what the Contessa was doing, she spirited away her gin-and-tonic to the drink table and rang for Lucia to bring in the tea tray. The Barone went over and kissed her cheek.
    â€œYou and Urbino should get to know each other a little before you settle down to talk about serious things, Bobo. Everything is going to be fine. Don’t you worry.”
    The Contessa gave his arm a reassuring, lingering pat.
    â€œBut I’m not worrying, Barbara dear, not in the slightest. I apologize for Barbara pulling you back to Venice. She’s very naughty sometimes, but we have to forgive her, because we know how devoted she is.” His long upper lip curled into a smile. “And I know how particularly devoted she is to you, Urbino, if I may call you that. A lovely name—and a lovely city with its associations with Raphael. Please call me Bobo. Barbara has told me all about you. Not all your secrets—ha, ha! Perhaps they will come with time. No, not everything, but enough to whet my appetite. Ah, yes, and she’s told me about your problem,” the Barone continued, seemingly filled with illimitable energy and enthusiasm. “I mean your problem down there , my friend.”
    He pointed a long, well-manicured finger at Urbino’s Gucci-shod foot. The Contessa had a fixed smile on her face and didn’t meet Urbino’s eyes.
    â€œA bit young for that, but I’m far from an expert on matters medical. Never been indisposed the same way myself. Hardly been ill a day in my life. One of these days I’m going to have to pay for it.”
    â€œLet it be ever so distant, Bobo.”
    â€œYou should take better care of yourself,” the Barone went on. “For example, that drink you have there. The culprit alcohol is lurking in it, just waiting to go down to that toe of yours and do its wicked little damage.”
    Fortunately, the Barone abruptly changed the topic when the Contessa joked about Urbino being smothered in Abano mud. He threw himself into a description of his tennis match that morning at the Cipriani Hotel with the Contessa, Oriana, and John Flint, her most recent innamorato . He urged