Rose Red (43 page)

“You know I can’t find her,” Andrea said. “No
one has seen her for three days.”

“
And you
are only now discovering that she is missing?”
Poor,
foolish man,
Bianca thought with the wisdom of a new and
well-loved wife.
I can see that I will have to take a hand in
this affair, whether Rosalinda wants me to, or not. I do believe
she will thank me for it in end.

“What is this unseemly noise about?” Eleonora
had been standing near a long window, talking to a group of older
women whom she knew from her own days as duchess. Now she left her
friends to join Bianca and Andrea. Stopping next to her daughter,
she took up a pose identical to Bianca’s, hands folded at her
waist, face calm and expressionless.

“Do either of you know where Rosalinda is?”
Andrea felt like strangling both Bianca and Eleonora out of sheer
impatience with their undisturbed composure. They had not been so
devoid of emotion while they lived at Villa Serenita. It occurred
to him that they were deliberately hiding their feelings from him.
He glared at Eleonora. “You must know where your daughter is.”

“I do confess, I have been greatly
preoccupied in recent days, and thus I have not paid much attention
to Rosalinda. It is a lapse for which Bianca has rightly chided me.
As I now chide you, Andrea.” Eleonora assumed a sweet smile to
match the one on her daughter’s face. “Bianca tells me that
Rosalinda has decided to go into retirement.”

“Retirement?” Andrea almost shouted the word.
“Do you mean, she has entered a convent?”

“Hardly,” Bianca said, meeting the fury in
Andrea’s eyes with an expression of cold annoyance. Deliberately,
she let Andrea wait through a few agonizing heartbeats before she
divulged any more information. “Rosalinda found court life tedious.
She has returned to Villa Serenita.”

“What?” Andrea exclaimed. “Why would she do
such a thing?”

“I have just told you why,” Bianca said.

Andrea was bewildered by Bianca’s manner
toward him. This was not her usual gentle, yet slightly reserved
way of treating those whom she met in a public setting. Bianca did
not raise her voice to him, nor did her sweet, smiling expression
change, yet to Andrea she conveyed the distinct impression that she
did not approve of him. Bianca did not disapprove of Rosalinda for
foolishly running away before Andrea could find an appropriate time
to talk to her and insist on an answer to his proposal. No,
Bianca’s disapproval was directed at him.

“Thank you for the information, Madonna
Bianca.” With a bow so brief it was almost an insult, Andrea turned
to leave.

“Andrea!” Bianca’s voice was so commanding
that for an instant Andrea imagined it was her mother who had
spoken. But Eleonora remained silent and perfectly still at her
daughter’s side. It was Bianca whose brows were drawn together in a
frown.

“Madonna?” Andrea paused in mid-step,
marveling at the transformation in his formerly timid
sister-in-law. Bianca was fully aware of her power and very
beautiful in her newfound confidence. Andrea could understand why
Vanni was half mad with love for her.

“I never thought you were a stupid man,
Andrea,” Bianca said. “Do not disappoint me by acting the fool
now.”

“What do you mean?” Keeping his eyes locked
on hers, Andrea took a step back toward Bianca. “What is it I
should know, that you haven’t told me?”

“You will have to ask Rosalinda about that,”
Bianca said, “after you have told her everything that is in your
heart.”

“Rosalinda knows what is in my heart,” Andrea
said.

“Do you really think so?” Bianca said no
more. She just looked at Andrea with that strange little smile on
her lips until he bowed again, more properly this time, and left
the room.

“How very difficult it is to remain here and
do nothing,” Eleonora said, looking after him.

“I pray that I have done the right thing,”
Bianca said. “And that Rosalinda will forgive me.”

“I am glad you confided in me,” Eleonora
murmured. “If you had not, I would be even more concerned over
Rosalinda’s future than I am.”

As he ran down the stairs leading to the
palace courtyard, Andrea’s mind was in turmoil. Just an hour before
his appearance in Bianca’s reception room, he and Vanni had agreed
on the final details of the treaty between Monteferro and Aullia,
which the brothers believed would ensure peaceful relations between
their cities so long as the Sotani family ruled both places. On the
advice of Luca Nardi, taxes were to be lowered as soon as the
treaty was signed.

“This one paragraph,” Luca had promised,
“will result in the devotion to their respective dukes of
businessmen, bankers, and ordinary folk alike. No one wants to pay
taxes, though most men will pay them if they see some benefit to
themselves in doing so. During the years of Marco Guidi’s rule, the
people of Monteferro were taxed into near bankruptcy and, during
the year since your father’s death, a similar process was begun in
Aullia. Men who once feared what the future would bring will be
pleased by a decrease in taxes. I need not remind you, my lords,
that contented citizens do not plot to overthrow their
governments.”

“Unless there is a Niccolo Stregone lurking
about to drip venom into the thoughts of some too-willing man,”
Andrea had noted.

“We will take care that a creature like
Stregone never again infests either city,” Vanni had said with firm
assurance.

With the terms agreed upon, the treaty was
turned over to the secretaries, who would make several neat and
careful copies of it. Until those copies were completed and ready
for signing, Andrea had little to do. For the first time since
leaving Villa Serenita, he was not concerned with arrangements for
his brother’s arrival at Monteferro or with matters of state. Now,
at last, he was free to seek out Rosalinda, to overcome any
lingering objections she might have and convince her to accept his
proposal of marriage.

Because
she was Eleonora’s daughter, Andrea had expected Rosalinda to
understand why he had been so busy of late, and why he had taken
care not to single her out for special attention. Courts were
veritable jungles of gossip and intrigue, and many of the retainers
and officials at Vanni’s court were folk who had once been loyal
-or who had claimed to be loyal – to Marco Guidi. In such
surroundings, it was best to walk carefully until true fidelity
could be separated from devious intentions. Andrea had no wish to
place Rosalinda in a difficult situation by subjecting her to
gossip. He was sure she would realize all of this without an
explanation from him.

He had not expected to discover that she was
gone. Nor had he expected the cool disdain he encountered in
Bianca’s manner. Eleonora’s coldness was easier for Andrea to
comprehend. It would take Eleonora some time to forgive him for his
initial deceit in not revealing his identity to her when he first
arrived at Villa Serenita. But Bianca had always been friendly
toward him, and her present attitude gave Andrea serious pause. The
sisters had obviously discussed his reticent conduct toward
Rosalinda. It seemed that Rosalinda was not as understanding as he
had thought she would be, and she had told her sister so. The
sooner he spoke with Rosalinda, the better.

Within an hour of his interview with Bianca
and Eleonora, Andrea was on the road to Villa Serenita. He took
with him only two men-at-arms, and he spared neither men nor horses
in his eagerness to reach the villa.

“My lord duke, wait.” Lorenzo tried to
prevent Andrea from leaving the stable yard. “Maria says that
Rosalinda is very angry with you. I think you should let me
announce your arrival at Villa Serenita and then allow Rosalinda to
decide if she wants to see you.”

“It is not your place to announce me,” Andrea
reminded his former comrade of the practice yard. “You are a
man-at-arms, not a damned majordomo.”

“Do not scoff at Bartolomeo’s position, my
lord. If he were here, he would tell you what I have just said.
Andrea, stop!” Lorenzo shouted, forgetting the difference in their
social positions in his agitation as Andrea pushed past him and
headed for the garden. “Come back here!”

“I have ridden until I am sore and weary.”
Andrea flung the words over his shoulder. “Having finally reached
the villa, I will not stop until I see Rosalinda.”

“She may not want to see you. My lord duke,
please wait.”

Rosalinda was in the garden, where she was
cutting herbs to be hung in the stillroom to dry. Turning around in
surprise at the sound of Lorenzo’s raised voice, she looked toward
the garden entrance, still holding a sprig of lavender in one hand
and a pair of shears in the other. The handle of a flat basket
filled with herbs was slung over her left arm, and her face was
shaded by her mother’s old, broad-brimmed hat. She went very still
when she saw who was the object of Lorenzo’s futile orders to
halt.

“I am sorry, Rosalinda,” Lorenzo called. “He
would not listen to me.”

“It’s all right, Lorenzo. I will deal with
this intruder.” Rosalinda eyed Andrea warily as he approached her.
When she spoke to him, her voice dripped icy scorn. “How dare you
come here to annoy me? And how dared Bianca tell you where I had
gone? It was my sister who sent you after me, wasn’t it?”

“Bianca understands, as you clearly do not,
what the demands of high office are,” Andrea said. He moved closer
to her on the gravel path, until Rosalinda put up her right hand to
stop him. Since she still held the shears in a tight grasp, Andrea
came to a halt at arm’s length from her. It was not the shears
alone that gave him pause. There was something different about
Rosalinda. Beneath the shadow cast by the brim of the straw hat,
her eyes were hard and her mouth was pulled into a tight, angry
line. Her gray gown flowed loosely around her, making her look as
if she had gained weight, yet her face was gaunt. Andrea stared at
her, puzzled by her altered appearance.

“If your duties are so onerous, my lord
duke,” Rosalinda said, “then you ought to have stayed in Monteferro
to fulfill them. Or, alternatively, you might go home to Aullia to
see to your affairs there.”

“I am not leaving Villa Serenita until you
and I have settled this ridiculous dispute that you seem to think
lies between us,” Andrea said.

“Ridiculous?” Rosalinda took a menacing step
toward him. “You colossal knave! You thick-witted, uncaring
brute!”

“The last time we quarreled in this same
spot,” Andrea said, trying his best to remain calm in the face of
Rosalinda’s rising anger, “your complaint against me had something
to do with our fathers. Since that night, I believe you have also
felt that I have been neglecting you.”

“
You
ignored me every day that I was in Monteferro,” she cried. “You
have made it clear that you want nothing more to do with me. Day
after day, I watched you flirting with other women, laughing and
talking, sitting with them at those interminable banquets. While I
grow heavy and—”

“
Flirting?” Andrea interrupted, laughing at her. “Rosalinda,
I was trying to protect you from gossip. You have no experience of
courtly life and, therefore, no idea just how nasty courtiers can
be once their curiosity is aroused. If anyone at Monteferro thought
that you and I
—”

“There is no need for you to protect me.” It
was Rosalinda’s turn to interrupt and she did so by brandishing the
shears at him as if to prove her point. “I am well able to protect
myself.”

“Rosalinda, I came here to ask you again to
marry me.”

“No!” she yelled at him. “Leave me alone,
Andrea. You bedded me, you had what you wanted from me, and now you
no longer care about me. Go away, before I call out the men-at-arms
to throw you off this property.”

Andrea glanced from his furious love to
Lorenzo, who had followed him into the garden and remained there,
perhaps with the notion of coming to Rosalinda’s aid if she should
need a champion. Having overheard Rosalinda’s last, loudly spoken
words, Lorenzo was wearing a scandalized expression. A motion from
Rosalinda brought Andrea’s attention back to her. She had taken a
step away from him and toward the house.

“I have not begun to have all I want from
you,” Andrea told her. “Would it resolve your doubts on that
subject if I bedded you again?” With a swift movement that gave
Rosalinda no hint of what he was planning to do, Andrea grabbed the
shears from her and tossed them onto the ground. An instant later,
he scooped Rosalinda into his arms. The basket of herbs landed
beside the shears, scattering fragrant greenery across the garden
path.

Rosalinda fought him, but Andrea was
determined to prove to her how much he wanted her. He would take
her to her bedchamber and make passionate love to her. When she lay
quivering with passion beneath him, perhaps she would believe that
he wanted to marry her because he loved her.

But when he reached the terrace steps,
Lorenzo was there before him, blocking his way. Andrea hesitated
for a moment. As if she sensed a chance to escape from his unwanted
embrace, Rosalinda continued to fight, kicking and squirming while
Andrea tried to deal with the man-at-arms.

“I will not hurt her,” Andrea promised
Lorenzo. “But I do not think there is any other way to make this
stubborn girl listen to me. I do assure you, my intentions are
completely honorable.”

“Lorenzo, help me!” Rosalinda hit out at
Andrea with both fists at once. He almost dropped her, but then he
tightened his hold, securing her against his chest.

“Surely, Lorenzo, you have quarreled with
Maria from time to time,” Andrea said.

“That I have.” Lorenzo’s searching gaze moved
from Rosalinda’s flailing fists and angry face to Andrea’s calmer
expression. He moved aside, letting Andrea proceed toward the
terrace and the house.