His smile was smug and richly satisfied. “I’m pleased that the place strikes you and the children as it does me.”
The tenor of his words and the depth of his satisfaction made one thing abundantly plain.
Yes, indeed. No matter what you consciously think, to you, this truly is a special place.
And he’d willingly shared it with her and the children.
If Giovanni felt honored by their presence, Diana felt honored that Toby had brought them there.
CHAPTER10
To Toby, the time they spent on the island was essentially time outside the mission. The instant he’d set foot on the worn timbers of the dock, the peace of the place had reached for him like some tangible entity welcoming him home. Or at least back to its very Italian bosom. The island enfolded him in an impossible-to-resist calm, and the tensions of the previous days simply slid away.
In addition to that, all those he’d brought with him were enjoying themselves unreservedly.
As the company currently at the villa—including Helga and the children, plus Lucia, the Giordanos’ niece-cum-maid, who lived there—sat about the long table under the loggia and, as one large family, enjoyed one of Giulia’s wonderful meals, Toby sat back and observed and felt even more reassured that in seeking refuge there, he’d done the right thing.
Peace of a quality he’d rarely felt elsewhere sank to his bones.
He had to smile at Giovanni’s and Giulia’s interactions with the children. Having suffered a disappointment in his youth, Giovanni had never married, and Giulia’s husband had died long ago, leaving brother and sister childless. Both adored children and, being part of a large brood themselves, often had nephews and nieces, like Lucia, staying with them. But it was young children of the ages of the Fellows three that Giovanni and Giulia most doted upon.
Toby leant back, sipped Giovanni’s excellent wine, and listened as the pair instructed Diana and the children as to what they should make a point of seeing on their planned excursion around the island the next morning. Like all the islanders, Giovanni and Giulia were especially proud of their basilica. “It’s one of the oldest around about,” Giovanni stated.
Despite the island being very small, the litany of sights continued.
Toby raised his gaze and looked across the almost-still waters to the shore at Orta San Giulio. He could just make out the dock. He couldn’t imagine how anyone would trace them to the island, but if any strangers approached the dock and wanted passage to the island, the Grosso brothers would put them off and send word to Toby.
No one who was not a local or vouched for by a local would be reaching the island, not until Toby and his family left.
Quite when that might be, he didn’t know. The important point at that moment was that, on the island, they were as safe as they could be.
He refocused on the discussion presently raging over how, exactly, the boys should learn to fish. When appealed to, with a grin, he agreed that, while on the island, the boys learning to fish was of major importance.
The comment earned him a rolled-eyed look from Diana and a huff from Giulia, but Giovanni was grinning right along with him.
Toby raised his glass and, over the rim, met Diana’s eyes and, still smiling, sipped.
* * *
Later,once the children had headed upstairs with Helga and Giulia supervising and Giovanni had retreated to the kitchen, Diana sat with Toby in the shadows cast by the loggia and wallowed in the cool evening air drifting in off the lake.
After long moments of silence—a companionable silence neither had seen any reason to break—she turned her head and looked at him. “I’m inclined to wonder if a good half of the attraction of this place is the opportunity it affords you to revisit your childhood.”
His gaze dark in the shadows, he chuckled. “Admittedly, I learned to fish when I was young and indulged frequently as a boy, but my childhood was filled with horses and riding, not fishing.” He held her gaze for a moment, as if debating which conversational tack to take, then added, “That said, I remember what it’s like to have a whole new world to explore.”
On some unfathomable level, she felt convinced that she needed to learn everything she could about him. Knowing this opportunity might not come again, she tipped her head and ventured, “How did you come to be an agent for Winchelsea?”
He thought, then replied, “Actually, it was two—no, three—things that made me assisting Drake—Winchelsea—virtually a foregone conclusion. First, we’re related. His wife, Louisa, is my second cousin, and as all my cousins, second or otherwise, more or less grew up together, after Drake and Louisa married, we all got to know him quite well.”
“So he knew you on a personal level and understood what sort of background you hailed from.”
He nodded. “My background is very similar to his, just without the title.”
When he didn’t immediately go on, she prompted, “What were the other two things?”
“I’m very good with languages—I always was, even as a child. I’m fluent in most of the major European languages and even some dialects, which makes passing myself off as a local, or at least some nationality other than English, relatively straightforward.”
She nodded. “When we first met, in the park, if you hadn’t spoken in English to the children, I would have assumed you were Austrian—you looked the part.”
