by Speer, Flora
“I should have known you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Never.” He kissed her tenderly. “I would die before causing you pain.”
“Vanni? How often can husbands and wives do what we have done?”
“Why do you ask?” Vanni teased. “Would you like to do it again?”
“If it would not be too much trouble for you,” Bianca said, “I would very much like to do it again, now that I know everything about the act and thus I am no longer frightened at the thought of your great size filling me. Now I know you will fit most delightfully, if very tightly.”
As she spoke, Bianca was pleased to note that Vanni’ s size had increased suddenly and that it appeared to be undiminished since his last effort at a husband’s duty. Happy to know he was ready so promptly at her suggestion, she wondered if he would object if she were to touch him there, to test with her own fingers the strength and heat that had filled her body to their mutual pleasure. But before she could ask, Vanni spoke.
“Ah, so you think you now know everything about the act, do you?” His chuckle was a dark, dangerous sound that made Bianca look away from his manly attributes and into his eyes. The passion she saw burning there nearly stopped her heart with excitement.
“You have just begun to savor the possibilities,” Vanni whispered. “Come closer, love, and let me show you a new way.”
* * * * *
Rosalinda was happy to have all the attention directed to her sister and Vanni. She was not feeling well, perhaps because she had been forced to lace herself too tightly into her best gown in order to make it fit. Seeing her mother in close conversation with Andrea and Francesco, Rosalinda seized the opportunity to leave the dining room for the coolness of the garden. Once there, she reached under her tabard to loosen the laces of her gown. Taking a long, relieved breath, she moved to the far end of the garden, away from the lights of the house and into the shadows. It was some time later when she heard a footstep on the gravel path. With a startled sound she turned, expecting to see one of the men-at-arms heading for the stable.
“I didn’t know you were here,” Andrea said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“If you wish to walk in the garden, I will leave.” Keeping her face averted from him, Rosalinda brushed tears off her cheeks. When she would have returned to the house, Andrea blocked her way.
“I am glad I found you. Rosalinda, you have been avoiding me since I returned to Villa Serenita.” Andrea’s voice was bleak with accusation.
“I? Avoiding you?” Rosalinda cried. “It’s you who left me, to take Niccolo Stregone’s body home and to fetch Father Tomaso.”
“At your mother’s command.”
“You could have refused.”
“How often have you refused to obey your mother when she ordered you to do something?” Andrea demanded. “And now she is sending me away again, in early morning.”
“Is she, indeed?” Rosalinda tried to speak coldly, to convince herself as well as Andrea that she did not care whether he left Villa Serenita or stayed. She told herself it was feminine weakness on her part to long for his arms around her and his mouth on hers.
“I am to ride to Monteferro,” Andrea said, “to meet there with Luca Nardi. Together we are to make the arrangements for the formal entrance of Vanni and Bianca into Monteferro.”
“Bianca and Vanni,” she corrected. “Bianca is the rightful duchess; therefore, her name should come first.”
“You sound just like your mother,” Andrea said, adding, “Two months ago, when she sent me away from Villa Serenita with Vanni and Francesco, you agreed with your mother and rejected my proposal. I told you then that I would come back for you. Here I am, Rosalinda.”
“To collect your booty?” she asked.
“There is no further obstacle to our marriage,” Andrea said in a perfectly reasonable tone.
“No obstacle whatsoever,” Rosalinda said, speaking with as much sarcasm as she could manage when she felt like bursting into tears over Andrea’s lack of romantic fervor, “except your prospective bride’s distaste for a coldly arranged marriage made for political motives.”
“Are you refusing me?” he asked.
She could hear the injured manly pride in his voice. But what of her own pride? If Andrea loved her, why didn’t he take her into his arms and kiss her and tell her so? Why didn’t he put all of her questions and doubts to rest with words of love instead of citing logical, masculine reasons why they should marry?
She wondered if she had been mistaken in him from the beginning. He had known all along who she was, for he had recognized her father’s portrait in the sitting room almost as soon as he arrived at Villa Serenita. He had not hesitated to take her virginity when she had gone to his room late at night. And he had admitted to her mother during that infamous dinner party on the terrace that he had taken advantage of Eleonora’s plan for Monteferro for his own reasons, to put himself into power in Aullia. These were the acts of an accomplished schemer, not a lover.
Rosalinda decided she could not tell Andrea she was carrying his child, not until she was certain what his true motives were. If, as she was beginning to suspect from his cool manner toward her, he did not feel any tenderness for her, then she could never tell him and she must continue to reject his proposal. She could imagine no sadder fate than to marry a man whom she loved deeply and passionately, who did not love her. Such men took mistresses and their wives were miserably unhappy. Rosalinda knew as much from her mother’s descriptions of court life, and she also knew that she could never learn to live with such deception.
Rosalinda’s unhappy ruminations were interrupted by a flood of candlelight onto the terrace. The sitting room door was wide open, and Eleonora stood silhouetted on the terrace.
“Andrea, I suggest that you begin preparations for your ride to Monteferro,” Eleonora called. “Rosalinda, is that you? What are you doing outside at this hour? It is almost dawn. Come inside at once.”
“You haven’t answered me, Rosalinda,” Andrea said.
“Rosalinda!” Eleonora exclaimed.
“Rosalinda, wait, please!” Andrea reached for her hand, but Rosalinda eluded him and started toward the terrace.
“Answer me, Rosalinda,” Andrea demanded. His handsome face showed hard and set in the light streaming from the sitting room door, and his eyes held a fiery gleam that could only be the anger of a man thwarted in what he wanted.
“You cannot command me, Andrea,” Rosalinda said, pausing in her flight from him. “I have not agreed to become your possession. If you want something of me, you must ask politely.” With that, she ran up the steps to the terrace, where Eleonora awaited her.
Chapter 24
When the group of fifteen or so travelers from Villa Serenita was a short distance away from Monteferro, Andrea appeared, riding from the city with Luca Nardi. They were accompanied by a single retainer, who held aloft the banner of the Duke of Aullia, three gold stars arranged in a triangle on a red ground. Seeing Andrea, Rosalinda pulled hard on the reins of her horse, bringing the animal to a halt, while the rest of the party continued to move forward around her as if she were a rock in the middle of a steadily flowing stream.
Andrea was garbed in deep red doublet and hose. His matching, flat-brimmed hat sported a bright blue feather tucked into the band at the crown. Luca Nardi was more soberly clothed in his usual dark blue banker’s robe.
Still concealed among her companions, who by now had also stopped, Rosalinda watched Andrea and Vanni laughing together. How handsome the brothers were, and how similar their features. Yet their personalities were clearly imprinted on their faces, and anyone who knew them could easily tell them apart. Vanni was the more lighthearted twin, while Andrea’s serious nature showed not only in his face, but in the way he carried himself. Loving him, longing for him to declare that he loved her in return, Rosalinda waited, praying that Andrea would acknowledge her presence, hoping he would come to her.
Having greeted his b
rother and kissed Bianca, Andrea moved on to Eleonora and to Bartolomeo and Valeria, all of whom accepted his courtly salutations with a grave courtesy to match Andrea’s own. Then it was on to Francesco for a warmer, more comradely handclasp. Turning from his old friend, Andrea looked around until his eyes met Rosalinda’s. She held her breath. There were words he could say that would tell her what she wanted to hear without revealing to others what emotions lay within his heart.
“Madonna.” With a cool politeness that bordered on complete indifference, Andrea inclined his head in lordly acceptance of her presence. “You look well.”
“Thank you, my lord duke. I am in excellent health. As you also appear to be.” Was this to be the extent of their conversation? After the way they had parted, Rosalinda did not expect him to pull her off her horse and into his embrace, but she had hoped for some sign of emotion in his first words to her. How could she love him so dearly, and he be unaware of what she was feeling? But was he really unaware of her? Impulsively, she decided to do something to reach him, to make him respond to her.
“Andrea.” She put out her gloved hand to catch at his sleeve. “I am sorry for the quarrel we had at our last meeting. I wish you would listen to my explanation of why I was so difficult.”
“I would be happy to hear anything you wish to say to me, Madonna Rosalinda, but at the moment my first duty is to my brother, and to your sister. This is their day, after all, and other concerns must wait. Perhaps later.” The smile he gave her was, to Rosalinda’s eyes, blatantly false.
“Of course, my lord.” Aware of the way in which the others in their group were watching and listening to this exchange of words, Rosalinda tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice, tried to sound as calm and icy cold as she possibly could, to show all of them, as well as Andrea, that she did not care if he chose to be rude to her.
“I do understand. Don’t let me detain you from your very important duties. Ah, Luca, how wonderful to see you again.” Rosalinda extended her hand to Luca Nardi. Though she bestowed her brightest smile upon the banker and appeared to be giving him her full attention, she was aware of the long, hard stare Andrea sent her way before he turned his horse and rode back to the head of the procession.
“Here come the others. Andrea and I outdistanced them,” Luca said to Rosalinda. He pointed along the road in the direction of Monteferro, to a troop of horsemen that was galloping toward Vanni’s company.
“That,” explained Luca, “is a delegation of city officials, coming to extend their formal greetings to Vanni and Bianca. The festivities are about to begin. Earlier today I feared it would rain, but it appears that heaven is blessing your family’s return to Monteferro.” Luca glanced upward, to the bright and cloudless sky.
The officials who had ridden out to meet them were all richly dressed and jeweled, as were the men and women from Villa Serenita. It was a dazzling cavalcade that formed an hour or so later under the direction of Luca Nardi. At the head of this splendid procession, the Duke of Monteferro and his new duchess entered their city, riding side by side through the main gate and along the broad thoroughfare to the piazza and the cathedral.
Every building along the way was hung with brilliant banners, their designs combining the gold Farisi eagle on a green background with the Sotani emblem of three stars on a red ground. Garlands of flowers stretched across the streets just above the riders’ heads, and every citizen had turned out to cheer the handsome young duke and his beautiful lady. Befitting the great occasion, the service held in the cathedral was appropriately long and solemn, and the reception that followed at the ducal palace was longer still.
“How strange it is to return after so many years,” Bianca whispered to Rosalinda shortly after they entered the great reception room. “It appears very different from the room I recall on the last occasion when I saw it.”
“And different from the room our mother described to us,” Rosalinda added. “I am sure it has been redecorated at least twice since you were last in it. Bianca, does it cause you pain to be here?”
“I expected to be disturbed, but I am not,” Bianca said. “The memory of our father’s death will always sadden me, but I do believe he would rejoice to see us all here today.”
“Indeed, he would,” said Eleonora, who had overheard this conversation. “This is the life for which I trained you, Bianca. Go now to stand beside your husband while you greet the dignitaries.” She watched with a satisfied smile as Bianca crossed the room to where Vanni waited for her.
Eleonora, who had been welcomed back to Monteferro like a dowager queen returning to her kingdom in triumph, looked happier than Rosalinda could remember ever seeing her, and Bianca was moving through her tedious duties with grace and effortless tact. But Rosalinda was soon tired. The hall where the official banquet was held after the reception was hot, with no breeze to alleviate the effects of too many heavy perfumes. The food was over-rich and there was too much of it. Rosalinda began to fear the long parade of courses would never end.
Whenever she and Andrea had come face to face during the interminable day, he had spoken only the shortest, most formal words to her and he appeared to be distracted. Knowing from what Luca Nardi had told her that Andrea had taken the responsibility for the success of the day’s ceremonies on his own shoulders, Rosalinda tried to be understanding. Still, she wished he would spare a few moments for her, to make her feel personally welcomed to the palace where she was now to live and to promise there would soon be time for them to hold a private conversation. That he did not only convinced her of his lack of any true interest in her.
The sight of Andrea engaged in laughing conversation with a lovely – and slender – young woman only increased Rosalinda’s distress. By the time evening arrived, she was more convinced than ever that the fear she had once voiced to Bianca was true. Andrea had played with her affections and his only concern with her now lay in the advantage that a cold-hearted political alliance would bring him. That being so, if a more brilliant marriage was offered by a powerful family, Andrea would turn from Rosalinda without a second thought.
When, at last, well after midnight, the ladies assigned to attend Rosalinda had formally escorted her to her bedchamber, when she had sent all of them away, insisting to their scandalized shock that she wanted to be left alone, she still could find no peace from the worries that plagued her. She had ordered her ladies to open the windows before they left her. The noises of a busy city were jarring to one who was accustomed to the quiet country. When Rosalinda went to the window to look out, she could not see the mountains, but only the lights of Monteferro. Never in her life had she felt so lost, or so lonely.
Nor did the passing of time lessen Rosalinda’s sense of isolation. The ensuing days brought more receptions and more long banquets, during which Andrea treated her with cool, formal respect but never spoke a word to her on any personal subject. It was Bianca who told her that Vanni and Andrea were spending many hours each day working on a treaty between Monteferro and Aullia, with Eleonora, Francesco, and Luca Nardi in attendance to offer advice.
While the men and Eleonora were thus occupied, Rosalinda and Bianca were often together, but they were always surrounded by retainers and would-be friends, and by so many people begging Bianca to use her influence with Vanni to convince him to agree to some favor, that the sisters were not free to engage in the private talks they had always taken for granted.
As the new duke’s sister-in-law, who was known to be on excellent terms with him, Rosalinda was not overlooked by eager petitioners. On the afternoon when an overdressed courtier drew her aside and subjected her to a long, whining speech imploring her to talk to Vanni about giving him an office at court, Rosalinda had had enough. She broke away from the courtier, leaving him to stare after her in astonishment at her brusqueness.
Making her way through the press of people in the duchess’s reception room, Rosalinda caught Bianca by one hand, pulling her out of the group surrounding her. Rosalinda did n
ot stop until she and Bianca were standing in a niche beside a window where, Rosalinda hoped, they could have a moment of privacy.
“Go away. Leave us!” she snapped at a lady who stuck by Bianca’s side. “I want to talk to my sister alone.
“I am stifled here,” Rosalinda said, turning to Bianca. “I can’t breathe for all the people. It is too noisy. I cannot see the mountains.” She paused, trying to control the trembling of her lower lip.
“It is certainly a great change from our former life,” Bianca agreed. “I am sure you will grow used to it, in time.”
“Never! I’ll die if I stay here. I am going home – to my real home, to Villa Serenita.”
“You can’t do that,” Bianca protested.
“I am telling you so you won’t worry about me or wonder where I am.” Rosalinda was not going to argue about her decision. Her mind was made up and she would not change it. “I don’t think anyone else will miss me. They are all so busy, they won’t even notice I have gone. Even you are occupied every hour of the day. And at night you have Vanni to talk to, though even then you don’t have any real privacy. Everyone at court gossips about the fact that Vanni spends every night with you.”
“A duchess does live a remarkably public life,” Bianca said. “And I do have more duties than I expected.”
“That’s just it,” Rosalinda said. “I have nothing useful to do here. At Villa Serenita, I can oversee the harvest and direct the women in putting aside food for the winter. Since Bartolomeo and Valeria have come to Monteferro with Mother, I can take their places at home. As for Mother, she is so preoccupied with statecraft, and with Francesco, that she hasn’t even noticed that I am – that I -” Rosalinda bit back tears. While her sister watched her with worried eyes, Rosalinda lifted her head and tried to give the appearance of restored composure.
“Oh, my dearest, I did not realize just how unhappy you have been,” Bianca whispered. ‘‘Perhaps if you and Andrea could settle matters between you—”
