CHAPTER TWO
Mamma knocked her chair back and flung the book.
Nurse caught it, thank the dear Virgin.
Susanna ran into Mamma’s arms.
Both were laughing and weeping at the same time, and within moments a family pileup of arms extended in hugs and joyful cries of welcome buried Susanna. It was as if mistletoe engulfed the entire family.
After a nod at Nurse, I stood back, delighted but unwilling to shove aside the smaller children, and took a moment to embrace Baldissere, my former betrothed and now brother-in-law, who beamed as I thanked him for bringing Susanna to us so soon.
“Once she received the news of your betrothal, she wouldn’t be nay-sayed,” he told me.
Indeed, Susanna broke free of all embraces to rush at me. “You! You imposter! You claimed you wished only to stay at home and manage the household, and you caught a prince! And not an old, warty prince, either. Prince Escalus of the House of Leonardi!”
“If only you knew,” I said wryly.
Imogene tugged at Susanna’s hand and when Susanna looked around, Imogene slightly shook her head.
Susanna’s expression changed to concern. “Are you not happy, Rosie?”
“Indeed I am. Happy and honored.” I had promised to accept the betrothal with good grace and I’d committed myself entirely to Prince Escalus, and any lingering doubts were vanquished.
Mostly. Most of the time. Before Susanna could question me further, I said, “Come and meet your two new brothers who are now awake and squalling their desire to greet you!” I herded the family back to the table, and Susanna and Baldissere cuddled the twins, exclaimed at their bright-eyed interest in the world, and laughed about how they’d surprised us with their own upcoming offspring.
“It’s so cold. Why are you out here?” Susanna cried.
“Rosie won’t let us crack walnuts anywhere inside. She says we make a mess.” Seven-year-old Emilia seemed not to notice the far-flung shells that radiated in all directions around the table.
“Imagine,” I said dryly.
“For Papà’s candy!” Susanna clapped her hands. “I’ll help!”
“Indeed you will not!” Baldissere stopped her. “You’ve had a long journey and you must rest.”
“The room won’t be ready,” Susanna answered.
Nurse hurried down the stairs. “It is ready! Do you imagine you can catch Lady Rosaline unprepared? The sheets are warmed and ready for you to nap.”
“Oh, but—” Susanna cast a reluctant glance around. “I just got here! I haven’t seen Cesario! Where is he, pray tell?”
Mamma tucked her hand into Susanna’s arm. “Cesario has found a new mission as errand-runner for Prince Escalus. He roams the city delivering messages and fetching supplies, and never have I seen him so happy!”
“Yay for Cesario,” Emilia said softly.
I hugged her skinny shoulders. She was eight, the youngest daughter, friendly and outgoing, and fiercely resentful of the freedom allowed to the younger Cesario for no more reason than he was a male-child.
She would have loved to run beyond the confines of Casa Montague, view new places, visit with strangers who would soon be her friends.
But the world was not always a welcoming place, and females, however competent, remained confined in their homes and protected by their fathers and then their husbands.
She shrugged me off, not rudely, but to indicate I shouldn’t pity her.
I patted her instead.
Mamma said, “Come, Susanna, it’s time for my nap, too. I find producing a litter is more wearing than bringing one child into the world at a time.”
Susanna walked with Mamma. “I would hardly call two a litter!”
Nurse followed them with the babies tucked one under each arm.
Baldissere sat down, picked up a hammer, and went to work on the walnuts.
“Lord Romeo sent a message telling us to come early for family time before the wedding.” He was a handsome, amiable man of thirty, from a wealthy merchant family, and since his marriage, he had gained weight around the middle and lost a little more hair on the crown of his head.
He would have been an acceptable husband for me.
I, on the other hand, would not have made him happy. Susanna, who so easily accepted guidance and a man’s right to be in charge, was his perfect mate, and although he would never admit it, I knew he was grateful for my clear-sighted maneuverings. “Where is Lord Romeo?” he asked.
While the children chattered and Tommaso and I extracted more of the presepe from the cupboard, another loud knock sounded on the door.
Emilia jumped to her feet. “It’s Vittoria!”
Which made sense. If Papà had sent a message to Baldissere and Susanna to come early, he would have sent the same to Florence, to PierAntonio and Vittoria, too. We’d not seen Vittoria since her wedding two years ago, and our most vivacious sister had been sorely missed.
But Prince Escalus appeared in the entrance to the atrium followed by his three stalwart companions, Dion, Marcellus and Holofernes.
Emilia subsided. “Oh. It’s you.”
Everyone else rose to their feet. We girls curtsied and Baldissere bowed, and Katherina poked Emilia in the shoulder until she rose and curtsied, too, but not without a muttered, “Lessen this formality, I pray. He’s family, lest there be another stabbing.”
The kid had a way of cutting right to the bone.
Heh.
Baldissere winced—he had, after all, been one of my suitors although he’d been fortunate enough to survive without a scratch—and in a distracting flurry, I hurried toward the prince, who held an ornately painted ceramic pot containing a lily blooming white and gold. “Cal, how lovely. Thank you!”
Proving he could be as gauche as a seven-year-old, Prince Escalus moved the pot out of range of my questing hands. “Where is Lady Juliet? I wish to present it to her.”
I stopped. “Oh.”
His sister, Princess Isabella, brushed past him and patted my arm. “He didn’t sleep. He’s grouchy.” She sailed over to the table and into the midst of my younger sisters, and in no time was picking the nut meat out of the shells.
“I grew this plant in my conservatory so it would bloom at this time of year; the lily symbolizes the purity of the virgin birth.” Cal frowned. “How does bringing your mother a plant make me grouchy?”
“Not grouchy at all,” I assured him. “Rather, very well thought out. May I keep it for her?” I shouldn’t have assumed he’d brought it for me, and it was most seasonally appropriate for him to bring a grateful gift to the woman who had delivered me, his betrothed, into the world.
Indeed, the painting on the pot (which was slightly out of round) presented the nativity and glowed with rich-colored robes, gilded halos and the shaggy brown beasts that populated the stable.
Although…a couple of the beasts looked like giant frogs. And the star was frankly lopsided.
Cal saw me examining the images. “One of our local artists has an apprentice who tried his hand at this. He did a fair task, I think, for someone learning his trade.”
I smiled at the pot and at the lily. “Yes. Very much so.” I handed the plant to Tommaso and instructed him to take it to Nurse to be placed close by Mamma and Susanna and the babies, to be seen as soon as they woke.
Cal strode forward to shake hands with Baldissere. “A happy occasion to see you returned to Verona. With your lovely wife, I assume?”
Baldissere beamed. “Susanna is indeed lovely, and here with me for the gladsome occasion of your marriage to our dear sister Rosaline.”
I knew what he was doing. My former betrothed was refuting any interest in me, past or future, to the powerful man who had laid claim to me.
Cal inclined his head. He knew, too. “Rosie, I beg you accompany me to the Christmas market in Piazza dei Signori. I’d appreciate your suggestions for the gifts the palace will give to Verona’s orphans.”
Emilia jumped to her feet. “Toys! I want to see the toys. Can I go?”
Katherina put her hand on Emilia’s arm and in a not-quiet-enough tone said, “Not after your blunt welcome.”
“I simply said unless there was another stabbing—”
“I know what you said. Don’t say it again.”
“But it’s true,” Emilia muttered.
Katherina cast a patently fake smile at Cal. “I’m sure Rosie would be delighted to advise you.”
Imogene had to put her florin into the conversation. “Katherina, have you taken leave of your senses? Mamma would not approve of Rosie going alone with the prince into the city. She must have a chaperone. At least one.”
“For what reason, Imogene?” Baldissere asked.
Imogene turned to him. “To protect her virginity. He’s proved himself to be less bloodless than we imagined!”
Prince Escalus neither moved nor winced, nor did he show embarrassment at being perceived as formerly bloodless and now, er, more…well, just more.
Baldissere, on the other hand, sputtered in shock.
For emphasis, Imogene looked meaningfully at him and bumped her fists together.
Immediately Baldissere excused himself and sought privacy, one supposed to relieve himself, but probably to question how his former betrothed, who had been uninterested in his physical appeal, and the prince of Verona, who had a well-deserved reputation as an upright, just, unsmiling ruler with an overload of self-control and totally without charm, could be clashing in any enthusiastic physical way…
Admittedly I was experiencing some shock myself.
A truth had slowly begun to grow on me… No, that’s not right.
A truth had begun to vigorously present itself to me; Prince Escalus ruled himself with stern discipline to retain command over his deep-held passions.
I did not know all the storms and rages he hid beneath his still demeanor, but since our tumultuous engagement, I had been shown brief glimpses of his true self in eloquent speeches and, more than once, inflamed interludes.
“I am sure the presence of the prince’s bodyguards and my own good sense will protect my virtue.” Now I sounded bloodless.
Which mattered not, because Imogene pulled a disbelieving face. “If the report I heard is true—”
Katherina turned on her. “We do not discuss Rosie’s virtue in front of strangers!” She owed me, because of the little escapade she and Princess Isabella had enjoyed and from which I’d rescued them.
“What strangers?” Imogene asked.
Katherina indicated the prince’s bodyguards who stood, unmoving and expressionless.
Or…mostly expressionless. Marcellus looked like he’d swallowed an olive pit, and Dion fought a spasm of coughing that did not disguise his laughter.
“They’re not strangers,” Imogene protested. “They’re like Tommaso. They know all our secrets. There’s no use pretending they don’t!”
Which was quite true, but nevertheless, Holofernes, who’d managed to maintain his usual tranquil demeanor, said, “My prince, we’ll await you and Lady Rosaline outside.”
I had to put a stop to this. “Imogene, I promise, with all the market watching our every move, the prince will be forced to restrain his appetites.”
Cal at last spoke up. “Not quite all.”
Every eye swung in his direction.
“I find a slice of warm, savory lamb pie irresistible.”
The silence that followed was awesome as everyone tried to decide if the prince intended the double-entendre or not.
I slanted a sideways glance at his face.
Cal had claimed one of the reasons he’d favored me with his suit was because of my large family. Perhaps so he could solemnly drop a line into our loud discussions and see it explode like an overripe melon?
“What do you like to eat at the market, Rosie?” No doubt about it. He was being salacious.
“A fat sausage fire-roasted on a spit,” I snapped.
The right side of his mouth twitched.
When my family knew him better, they’d recognize this was the Prince Escalus equivalent of a hearty burst of laughter.
As it was, they exchanged loaded glances, then Katherina hurried into speech.
“The wind is growing colder, so I pray you, Rosie, wear your cloak and, Prince Escalus, please bring her home before she’s chilled.
We wouldn’t want her to get ill before the marriage.
” I had never heard her sound so much like Mamma.
“But I want to see the toys—” Emilia didn’t know the meaning of surrender.
Imogene turned on her. “Prince Escalus wants to be seen with his affianced wife doing charitable things to show Verona what good and just rulers they’re going to be. They can’t do that with a snot-nosed kid jumping around wanting to play with the toys!”
That’s my family. Subtle as a sledgehammer.
I couldn’t bear to see Emilia look so hurt. Going to her, I kissed her forehead and smoothed her frown lines. “After the wedding, little one.” I turned and, to my surprise, found Cal right behind me.
He kissed her forehead, too, and said something in her ear that made her scrub at her wet eyes and smile.
He offered his arm to me.
As was my wont, I placed one finger on his sleeve. Such was my own, minor resistance to the betrothal into which he had plunged me.
He led me to the entry where Tommaso waited, holding my cloak and cap.
When Cal was sufficiently satisfied in my future warmth, we stepped out onto the street and walked at a majestic pace toward the Christmas market.
Dion, Marcellus and Holofernes strode close behind us and gave us a presence on the streets; if anyone failed to notice the prince of Verona and his intended bride, three hulking well-dressed bodyguards with swords would provide them context.
“What did you say to Emilia?” I asked.
“I told her I would require her to become a runner in the palace, as Cesario is a runner in the town, and for that I’ll accompany her to the market and will buy whatever toy she might choose.”
He could not have given the child a greater pleasure.
I placed my whole hand on his sleeve.