Chapter 3
Because of the time of year, an awning had been run between the palazzo of the Pietro d’Angelo family, across the piazza, and up the steps of Santa Anna Dolce.
A cold, light rain fell as the silk merchant brought his eldest daughter to her destiny.
His wife and children had preceded them and now waited in the crowded church.
Despite the fur-lined cloak that had been put over her shoulders to protect her, Bianca felt cold, and the garment was removed the moment they entered the building.
Her father led her up the long aisle of the church past nameless people she did not know.
Some smiled at her. Others simply marveled at the girl’s extraordinary beauty.
Some whispered to their companions knowingly.
Bianca was numb. She would shortly have the Church’s blessing on her marriage.
She didn’t want it! She didn’t want this union.
She was terrified of Sebastiano Rovere, who now stood waiting for her at the end of the aisle, a toothy smile decorating his darkly handsome face, his lust barely concealed.
Her father put her hand into that of Rovere.
Bianca remembered to acknowledge him with a small nod of her head.
They knelt at Father Bonamico’s instruction.
She answered when required, but she didn’t really hear the words being spoken.
She just instinctively knew what was expected of her and performed her duty.
That was all that would be needed of her from now on. That she do her duty.
And after the church had done what was expected of it, Bianca and her new husband led her family and the guests back across the square to the Pietro d’Angelo palazzo, where tables covered in the finest linen cloths and topped with golden candelabras had been set up in the formal sala da pranzo.
Bianca had never had a meal in this dining room, with its mural-covered walls and coffered ceiling.
Their family ate in a smaller and more intimate chamber.
This was where her father entertained his guests.
Tomorrow there would be another wedding feast given in her new home by her husband.
The menu was extensive, with several kinds of pasta, salads, and roasted meats and poultry.
There were freshly baked breads and rich wines.
Unlike many, Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo did not serve his best wines first and afterwards his worst, believing as so many did that no one would notice.
He served only his best wines for the entire feast, which led the bridegroom to imbibe too much.
Sebastiano Rovere knew he was drinking too much, but tonight he could not seem to stop himself.
Soon, soon Bianca would lie naked in his bed, at his mercy.
The thought of her fear, of her screams as he took her virginity, excited him almost beyond bearing.
And she was fearful of his attentions, he knew.
She accepted his kisses easily enough now, but when his hands would roam over her nubile young body, a look would cross her face and she would struggle not to forbid him, although he knew she wanted to do so.
He turned his head to look at her now. The neckline of her wedding gown had been cut particularly low.
Her full young breasts almost swelled over the lace edging, and he had seen many men in the room tonight admiring the view.
Little bitch, he thought. She will soon learn at my hand the consequences of her teasing.
His fourteen-year-old son, Alberto, could not take his eyes from Bianca’s tempting cleavage.
Alberto needed to have a wife. Stefano had told their father that the young devil could hardly keep his cock in his hose these days.
Sebastiano chuckled. Alberto was like his father.
It was time to go home. They had remained long enough to satisfy custom, and he wanted to fuck Bianca now.
He arose from his seat, reaching out to pull Bianca up too.
“My friends,” he said, his voice slurring, “it is time for me to take my bride to my bed. I thank you all for coming, and will look forward to your company at our own wedding banquet tomorrow.”
Bianca looked like a young deer caught before a hunter.
Orianna came quickly to her daughter’s side.
“I will see my daughter settled in her litter, signore,” she said and led Bianca from the sala da pranzo.
“You know what is expected of you,” Orianna said in a no-nonsense voice she hoped would calm Bianca.
“I have carefully instructed you, daughter, and I know he has had his hands all over you these past few months. Whatever you do, show no fear. The deflowering is quickly over and done with, Bianca. Then all you need do is let him have his way with you. His condition is such that I doubt he will do much more tonight than what is required of him. And after the newness of you wears off for him, or you get yourself with child quickly, it is unlikely he will disturb you but for now and again.”
Bianca nodded. It all seemed so simple to her mother, but it was not. “He wants no more children,” she told her mother.
Orianna looked shocked. Then she said, “It is not up to him. It is up to God.”
The litter was waiting outside the palazzo.
Orianna helped her daughter into it, wrapping a wool and fur robe about her.
“Agata is waiting for you,” she said. “God bless you, my child. I will come in a few days to see you.” Then Orianna signaled the litter bearers to be on their way.
By the time her new son-in-law reached his house, Bianca would be waiting for him in their marriage bed.
It was almost an hour before Sebastiano Rovere came forth to mount his horse, and with his son, Alberto, and their armed escort, departed for his own house. Arriving, he found the palazzo quiet. A servant opened the door, greeting his master.
“Where is my bride?” he asked.
“She was brought to her apartments when she arrived, my lord. Her servingwoman is with her.”
“Have her brought to my rooms immediately,” Sebastiano ordered the man.
“At once, my lord,” the servant said, hurrying off. Reaching the newly refurbished apartment of his master’s bride, he knocked at the door and almost at once found himself facing a stern-faced servingwoman. “The master wishes his bride to join him in his chambers,” he said to the woman.
“My young mistress is awaiting her bridegroom in her own bed.”
“Mistress, in this house we never question the master’s orders,” the servingman said quietly. “Please, I beg of you, do not send me back to him with such a message. He can be particularly harsh when he is defied, or drunk. Tonight he is drunk.”
“It is unorthodox, but wait while I see my little lady properly garbed, and then show us the way. My name is Agata.”
“I am Antonio, and I will wait,” the man said.
Agata went back through her mistress’s new apartment to the bedchamber, where Bianca was waiting for her husband in her bed. She was naked. “Your bridegroom has sent a servant for you to attend him in his rooms,” she said disapprovingly to the girl.
“Then I must go,” Bianca responded, arising from the bed.
“Put this on,” Agata told her mistress, handing her a long, plain, silk night garment. “The manservant is waiting. I will go with you, but mark the way well for you will have to return on your own. I will be here awaiting your return.”
Bianca put on the nightgown Agata held out to her.
Shouldn’t he have come to her bedchamber on this their wedding night?
But then she knew nothing of wedding nights.
Barefooted, she followed Agata through her apartment and out into the corridor, where a manservant awaited them.
To her relief, he kept his eyes politely lowered.
The silk was very sheer. She watched carefully as they went.
Her husband’s rooms were not far from hers, much to her relief, and were at the end of a passageway.
The door opened. Another manservant stepped out. “If you will come with me, mistress, I will bring you to the master,” he said politely. “I am called Guido, mistress.”
“Go! Go!” Agata murmured. “God and his blessed Mother protect you.”
Bianca followed Guido into Sebastiano Rovere’s private rooms. They crossed a dayroom.
The servant knocked upon the door of another chamber across from the first chamber.
“Master, she is here.” He opened the door, and after a moment’s hesitation Bianca stepped inside.
The door behind her closed with the finality of a prison door.
The room was dim, the only light coming from a large fireplace.
“Signore, I have come at your request,” Bianca said.
Her eyes growing used to the dim light, she saw him sprawled upon a large canopied bed in his wedding robe, which was now stained with wine and food.
“Signore,” she murmured again, not certain if he was asleep.
“Take off that garment,” he said. “I want to see you naked, cara mia.”
She obeyed, already feeling shamed by his disrespect.
He stared at her and licked his lips as if he were anticipating a fine meal. “Come closer,” he said.
She moved closer, although how she managed to work her legs Bianca was not certain. She was very frightened, and she could see he was indeed drunk with her father’s good wine. She had drunk more than she was used to drinking, but she felt no effects from the wine at all.
“Turn around. Do it slowly,” he said.
Bianca followed his instruction, rotating herself around a turn.
“Put your hands beneath your breasts and hold them up for me,” he said. She was delicious. She was perfect. For months the very sight of her, the mere thought of her, had caused his male member to rage with lust. Tonight he felt nothing. Nothing! Sebastiano Rovere was suddenly angry.