Francesca (7 page)

He smiled again. She wondered if it hurt his face to smile, since his handsome visage usually wore a look of such seriousness. They returned to the Great Hall. It was already the noon hour, and the servants were preparing to set out the main meal of the day.

“I plan to ride again this afternoon,” Rafaello said to her. “Come with me.”

“Nay,” Francesca told him. “I am yet weary from my travels and will nap after we have eaten.”

He looked genuinely disappointed. “Then tomorrow morning,” he said.

“Perhaps if I do not decide to stay abed as I did this morning, although I was not aware that you rode in the mornings,” Francesca answered him.

“Piero was told to inform you,” he responded. “I will speak to him. It is unlike him to forget an order,” Rafaello said.

“Do not scold him,
signore
,” she replied. “I would not have come this morning under any circumstances, and I know now.”

She had a good heart. Something else learned in this brief time. “I will leave you to rejoin your two companions,” Rafaello said as they stopped where Louisa and Aceline were now waiting. She curtsied and turned away. Rafaello walked over to where his friend, Valiant, stood with a cup of wine in his hand. Valiant looked happy and at the same time he looked unhappy. “What is wrong?” Rafaello said.

“I know they were sent for so you might pick among them for a wife. Will you pick her?” the young man wanted to know.

Rafaello knew exactly to whom his best friend referred. He had never seen him that way over any female. “No, I will not pick Louisa, although I really should. She is beautiful, sweet-natured, soft-spoken, and obedient. Only two things prevent me from ending this summer fiasco my father has arranged. The first is that she is frightened of me, and I really could not wed a wife who appears to believe I will gobble her up. The second is that my best friend fell in love with her at first sight, and I believe she returns his sentiments. Do not declare yourself yet, though, my friend. I must make my own choice first in order to please my father. When I do I will ask him to approach the Duke of Genoa about arranging a match between you and your lady love. You are of noble birth and have lands of your own, Valiant. If I wed, then so must you. I shall not venture into this new world without my best friend by my side as you have always been.”

Both relief and joy lit Valiant Cordassci’s handsome face. “Thank you,” he said. Then he added, “But which of the other two? You hardly know the Florentine. She arrived only yesterday.”

“And yet in that short time we were alone beneath the peach trees I learned much. There is more I would know, and the French girl, despite her difficult nature, has noble blood while the Florentine is just a wealthy merchant’s daughter. Which would be better suited to be my
duchessa
is what I must decide,” Rafaello said.

“Let your heart decide, my friend. You will be happier that way,” Valiant wisely counseled Rafaello.

With the arrival of the final aspirant for the hand of his son, Duke Titus signaled a summer of festivities so Rafaello might become better acquainted with his potential bride. He had no idea that his son had already yielded the sweet Louisa to Valiant. It would seem that the French girl had the edge, for she was always in his company, while the beautiful Florentine, Francesca Pietro d’Angelo, seemed to always be by the duke’s side.

“Do you not like Rafaello?” he asked her one afternoon as they picnicked in the orchards of his gardens. His warm brown eyes searched her face. He already knew that this was the girl he would choose for his son.

“I do like him,” Francesca said. “But he must like me for who and what I am. Not what he believes he could make me.”

“And yet you seem to be always in my company. Not that I mind it,” Duke Titus said with a smile. “It has been quite a while since I had so beautiful a young companion by my side. Not since my beloved Antonia died. She was many years my junior, you know, and gave me my only child.”

“You miss her,” Francesca replied putting a comforting hand on his. “I am sorry to have made you sad,
signore
.”

“No, child, you did not. I can never, it seems, think of Antonia without growing tearful, despite the many years she has been gone,” the old duke admitted.

They had been watching a small jousting tournament, and now in an effort to distract him from his sad thoughts Francesca said, “Oh, look! Rafaello and Valiant are going to go up against each other.”

“Valiant will win,” Duke Titus said with a chuckle. “My own son is little interested in jousting. He says there is no practical use for it. Now and again he will overcome Valiant but ’tis only by chance.”

Francesca felt Louisa grab her hand and squeeze it hard as the two horsemen sat at either end of the jousting course, awaiting a signal from the tourney’s master at arms.

“Tell me what happens,” she whispered. “I can’t look.”

Francesca repressed a chuckle, knowing Louisa’s fear was for Valiant, not Rafaello.

“Ohh,” squealed Aceline. “Are they not magnificent? But of course my Rafaello will win. He is so brave and so very gallant.”

A horn sounded and the two riders began their gallop down the field, lances lowered. The sound of the horses’ hooves was almost like distant thunder. The tip of Valiant’s lance hit the direct center of Rafaello’s shield. He struggled to stay ahorse, but lost his seat and went down with an audible thump. The crowd burst into laughter, for this was an old story to them and they knew no harm had been done the duke’s heir by his best friend. The fallen warrior gave them a good-natured wave of his armored gauntlet, and it was then they cheered him and Valiant.

Aceline gasped, shocked, and pushed her way from the duke’s box to run down onto the jousting field, shrieking at the top of her lungs. “Rafaello! Rafaello!” She turned angrily on Valiant, who had dismounted, and was checking on his friend. “Monster! If you have killed him I will kill you! How dare you win? He is your lord’s son, and when we are wed you will be forbidden from the court, I swear it.”

Valiant ignored her and knelt by Rafaello’s side. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Rafaello laughed. “If you do not take into consideration my bruised bottom and my equally bruised ego, I’m fine. Help me up.” He had already removed his helmet.

Valiant and a squire pulled Rafaello to his feet.

Aceline pushed Valiant away and clung to Rafaello. “You are sooo brave,” she cooed at him. “I am so very proud of you. He took you off guard, else you should never have fallen victim to this coward,” she declared vehemently.

Rafaello shook her off angrily. “Valiant and I have been jousting ever since we were small boys,” he told her. “He is the better warrior and everyone knows it. How dare you call him a coward, you little shrew?” He pushed her away when she attempted to reattach herself to him again. “And how dare you make a spectacle of yourself here on a field of honor? You shame your family by your behavior.”

Aceline burst into fulsome tears, but cleverly disguised her outrage at him by saying loudly for many to hear, “Thank God you are safe,
amore mia
!”

“I am
not
your
amore
,” Rafaello snapped irritably. She was fair to the eye. She was of noble blood, but she was spoiled beyond redemption and had a sharp tongue. She was obviously determined to have him, no matter the cost. He was surprised she hadn’t thrown off her clothing and had her way with him on the jousting field before all the spectators watching. “Valiant,” he said to his friend, “you must crown your queen of love and beauty, having triumphed over me this day.”

Together the two men turned away from Aceline and walked to Duke Titus’s box. The French girl, now in serious danger of being publicly embarrassed, scrambled after them, attempting to make a trio. Reaching their destination, she reentered the box.

Duke Titus gave her a sharp look of disapproval before turning to the two young men standing below him.

“It is time to crown the queen of love and beauty,” he said, taking a wreath of gilded laurel leaves and placing it carefully upon Valiant’s couched lance.

Valiant moved his stallion sideways but a foot or two and then offered the wreath to Louisa di Genoa. “
Signorina
,” he said quietly, his blue eyes meeting her adoring ones.

With a blush and a murmur of thanks, Louisa accepted and slowly placed the wreath upon her dark head. A cheer went up from the onlookers.

“It suits you perfectly,” Francesca said with a smile, kissing her friend’s cheek.

“I’ve never been the queen of love and beauty before,” Louisa said shyly. “Valiant should not draw attention to me. He should have offered the crown to you.”

“Or me!” Aceline said angrily. “In birth I outrank you both.”

“After that scene you caused upon the field you are fortunate the duke allowed you back in the box,” Francesca said sharply.

“I was only showing my love and concern for Rafaello,” Aceline defended herself.

“You are ridiculous,” Francesca told the girl.

“He won’t choose you,” Aceline murmured. “You are barely polite to him. Ohh, I know all about how you scorned and turned down every suitor who came your way,” she continued. “My father sought out information on both of the others chosen to be my rivals. He laughed when he saw who you both were. A
bastarda
and a tradesman’s brat. He said he did not see why Duke Titus had not simply asked for my hand for his son, since it was obvious Rafaello would have no other choice.”

“I know he won’t choose me,” Francesca said. “And, believe me, I shall be happy to return home to Florence, though my family will be disappointed. But I should not try on the ducal jewelry quite yet, Aceline. I suspect it will not fit your skinny throat.”

“You had best beware of me, for I also know about Venice,” Aceline threatened.

Francesca laughed. “I suspect most of the known world does,” she replied. “It was quite an adventure, as I recall it.”

“Stop it!” Louisa said. “You both shame us all by this quarreling. Are you so perfect, Aceline, that you dare threaten Francesca by repeating lurid gossip? I understand that your father has been shopping you around for two years now and has had no takers.”

Aceline turned a bright scarlet, but she clamped her lips tightly together.

Francesca fought back her giggle over that fascinating bit of information. Louisa was correct, and this imbroglio between herself and the French girl must cease. Besides, Aceline was clever. She would turn their squabble so that she would appear the victim and put Francesca in a poor light. It wasn’t that she cared, but old Duke Titus was being so very kind to her. She did not want to disappoint him.

The summer moved slowly, and Francesca found she was actually enjoying herself. She had a friend in Louisa di Genoa, and she had never had a friend before. Bianca, her eldest sister, had gone away more than two years ago, and her two little sisters had just been too young. They had each other. The three girls rode out together daily into the beautiful forests surrounding the
castello
. They hunted with Rafaello, Valiant, and a few other gentlemen of the duke’s court. They picnicked in the flower-filled meadows. In the evenings they danced informally, played cards, and sang. Oddly Aceline had a very sweet voice, but it did not, unfortunately, make up for her shrewish behavior.

Although Rafaello spent time alone with Louisa to take any suspicion off Valiant’s attraction to her, and a little time with Aceline, it was Francesca who frustrated him. She managed to find more ways to avoid him. She would slip away into the forest with the two nuns who were her chaperones to pick berries. In the company of her serving woman, Terza, she would ride into the nearby village to make small purchases. She closeted herself with her women, and Father Silvio for hours on end. Sometimes Louisa was invited.

“What do you do?” he inquired of Louisa.

“Do? We do many things,” Louisa said to him. “If you are curious, why not ask Francesca? I’m sure she would tell you. After all, what mischief can she get into surrounded by two holy women and a priest?”

“I would ask if I could corner her,” Rafaello said. “Why does she avoid me?”

“Does she?” Louisa said innocently, eyes wide.

“Be careful, you devious wench,” Rafaello warned her. “I could always tell my father I have chosen you for my bride.” He gave her his best glower.

Louisa laughed. “I am no longer afraid of you,” she said. “Valiant says you are a fraud. He says you are a very kind man, and I have seen incidents of it these past weeks.”

“Have you indeed?” Rafaello answered her. Then he said, “She intrigues me, Louisa. I want to get to know her better, but she will not allow it. Why? Surely she is not still bedazzled by that Venetian popinjay who refused her.”

“Gracious, no! She laughs about her time in Venice and tells us the funniest stories. It is her pride, Rafaello. She is offended to have been summoned to Terreno Boscoso for the purpose of being considered as your bride.”

“But women have no choice in the matter of their husbands,” he replied, surprised, although she had once told him much the same although in more colorful language.

“Francesca’s older sister was wed at her parents’ hand to a monster. I do not know all of the story behind it, but I do know when he died, Bianca—that is her name—ran off with the man with whom she was deeply in love. She is happy now. Francesca wants to choose her own husband,” Louisa told him.

“But how can she fall in love with me if she will not at least take time to know me?” he asked. “You are a sensible girl. Speak to her, but do not say I asked it of you.”

Poor man, Louisa thought to herself. I believe he might be falling in love with the mystery that is Francesca. “I will help you,” she said.

In the morning Louisa sent word that she was feeling poorly and would not ride. Aceline du Barry found herself riding with Valiant by her side. “Get out of my way,” she hissed at him. “I will ride by Rafaello’s side, as I do every morning.”

“He has ordered me to keep you by my side,” Valiant lied boldly. “You allow him no time to get to know Francesca better.”