Page 22 of Duke for the Summer

“Oh, ok. Nice but scary.”

Jacopo shrugged. “Maybe mysterious is the better word.”

“And I’m, what, his great-nephew? But illegitimate.”

“I believe so. Your whole line is–illegitimate. The duke didn’t have any recorded brothers or sisters, but my father must have known, or at least suspected, that there were some out there. Otherwise he would never have spent money on preserving the DNA.”

“So I come from a big bunch of bastards, huh?”

“Nate.” Jacopo frowned.

“No, it’s okay. I never met my dad, but I’m sure he was a bastard. In more ways than one. Anyway, I must not be like the duke, then.” Nate smiled a little, but it felt false. “I’m as boring asthey come. No mystery here.”

Jacopo sat down, studying Nate as if he were really considering what he’d said. “I don’t agree,” he said at last. “You are anything but boring.” He gestured with his fork. “Eat.”

Outside, after dinner, the dishes washed and put away and the cats all ears-deep in their trays of kibble, Jacopo smoked luxuriantly, eyes fixed on the sky, not talking. Nate looked out over the hills, the black silhouettes of the trees. The sea was a sheet of ink, the last traces of sunset lingering in a pale band of light along the horizon.

“God, it’s quiet out here,” he said, the hair standing up on the back of his neck. “Spooky. I don’t know how you can stand to read those books.”

Jacopo was silent for a moment, cigarette perched between two fingers, eyes cast down at his glass of wine. “It’s a thrill,” he said finally. “But it’s fictional. Safe.”

“I don’t know, man. I would have a hard time not believing it’s real.” Nate gestured to the night around them, the distant lights of the town. “It’s so dark. Too easy to imagine all sorts of creepy stuff in the shadows. It’s the same out at Mom and Dave’s, in Veneta. There’s so much open country around.”

“It’s good that you could move to the city,” Jacopo said.

“Eugene is hardly a city. But it’s not out in BFE, at least.”

Jacopo frowned. “What is a … BFE?” he asked, sounding it out.

“Uh.” Nate rubbed a hand over his face, glad it was dark out. He could feel himself blushing. “It’s actually pretty offensive. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“Nate,” Jacopo said seriously. “Now I have to know.”

Nate’s stomach squirmed, and he took another drink of wine. “It stands for butt-fuck Egypt? I don’t know why. But it just means the middle of nowhere.”

“You have so many slang words,” Jacopo murmured. “Ineed to make a dictionary.”

Nate poured himself more wine from the bottle on the wall between them. A very American part of him was still flabbergasted by the idea of just casually sitting on something the ancient Romans had built, but he tried to pretend it was no big deal. “Well, you’ll get to move away too,” he said. “You can go wherever you want. Rome. London. Wherever.”

“Yes.”

“Where do you want to go, do you think? Do you have a plan?”

Jacopo grunted, taking a drag off his cigarette. “For many years, I thought we’d never find another relative of the duke. I thought I would be here for my entire life. So I did not bother to think about it.” He stared off into the night. “I don’t know. Maybe London.” He must have noticed Nate’s expression, because he added, “But I can stay a bit longer, after September third. I’ll help you with the paperwork and the accounts and then–and then I’ll begin to make plans. And my family will be able to help you after I leave. My sisters. Gracie is very smart, and Mirabella is good with figures.” Jacopo lit another cigarette. He seemed unwilling to say more.

“Well, I don’t blame you for wanting to get away,” Nate said, picking at a scrap of moss on the wall. He thought of what Gracie had said, and for a second he hated Papà Brunetti, even though he had never really even talked to him, hardly knew him.

“Yes,” Jacopo agreed. “It’s a very small place. Everyone knows each other’s business. And it is BFE.”

Nate laughed. “Stop.” He started to pour himself another glass of wine, before realizing the bottle was nearly empty. “We should open another.”

“We should go in,” Jacopo said. “It’s getting late.”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I know–I know you don’t sleep,” Nate confessed. He heard him moving around at night.

Jacopo looked away.

“I won’t be able to sleep, either.” Nate picked at a scrap of moss on the wall. “Thea gets in tomorrow.”

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