City of Devils: A Novel by Diana Bretherick Page A

Tribute to Lombroso , that’s what was written on it. Someone obviously wants to impress you!’
    ‘I really do not wish to discuss it. Let us talk of other matters! Madame Tarnovsky, how is Prague?’
    Madame Tarnovsky, apparently sensitive to her host’s discomfort, then proceeded to tell the assembled company of her recent experiments on the city’s prostitutes and female thieves. The way she explained it made it seem entirely natural as a process and her audience was enthralled by what she had to say.
    James sensed that Lombroso was relieved that the conversation had moved away from Soldati’s death. Eventually some more of Lombroso’s associates arrived and the party began to separate into small groups. James was asked to go downstairs to the kitchen and tell Sofia to bring more food and wine. Evidently his role as assistant to the professor extended to the domestic. He didn’t really mind. After all, it gave him an ideal excuse to see Sofia again.
    When he found Sofia she was baking bread and he looked on from the doorway, entranced, as she expertly kneaded the dough, her body moving sensuously as she did so. She looked up without warning and caught him looking at her. He held her stare and she looked away, smiling as if she was laughing at him.
    ‘The professor is asking for some more food and wine.’
    Sofia nodded. ‘I must finish this first or we will have no bread for the morning.’
    ‘Then I will wait,’ James said, taking a seat without looking away. Her directness fascinated him.
    Sofia smiled at him. ‘You wish to escape? All those fine people in one room – it can be a little overwhelming, perhaps.’
    ‘Perhaps . . .’ James returned her smile. ‘How long have you been with the professor?’
    ‘Five years. He saved me. Without him . . .’
    She paused in her work and looked into the distance. There was a haunted expression on her face as if she was reliving a part of her past that she would rather forget. James was angry with himself for asking such a crass question.
    Suddenly Sofia leaned forwards and grasped his hand. He felt a slight tingle at her touch, as if it was a caress. She looked intently into his eyes. ‘He is good man. You must help him. He needs you.’
    ‘But I barely know him!’
    ‘The murder – it hit him hard. I think he is worried that there may be another.’
    Just feeling her hand on his had left him almost breathless. He instinctively responded but she pulled away as if he had pricked her with a needle. She looked at him with a steady gaze and went back to her kneading.
    ‘Another? Why should there be?’
    She shrugged. ‘You should ask him.’
    ‘I want to help him but he won’t talk about it,’ he said.
    Sofia looked at him intently as if assessing his worth. ‘You must do what you can. He has enemies. They will use this against him if they can.’
    ‘You know a lot about his work?’
    ‘I have eyes and ears. That is enough.’ She wiped her hands on her apron and put a tea towel over the dough. ‘I will fetch some more food from the larder.’
    ‘I’ll help you.’
    Sofia inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement and he followed her through the large wooden door in the corner. She began to load plates and bowls onto a tray. He stood behind her and she turned around suddenly so that they stood face to face. They were so close that he could feel the light touch of her breath on his face. Their eyes met and she gave him that slow half smile as she had done on the first day he saw her. He felt almost overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her.
    He knew in his heart that it was wrong. Sofia was his new employer’s servant, which was bad enough. But there was also her background. From what Lombroso had said, she had done only what she had to in order to survive, but still . . . prostitution. He could hardly bear to think of what she must have gone through just to keep body and soul together. Sofia was forbidden to him in so many ways. How could he even begin