table until the desserts had been consumed, and tiny bowls of candied flower petals were placed before each guest at the high board. There was much speculation and amusement about it. Then suddenly the trumpeters in the musician’s gallery above the hall played a grand flourish. Duke Titus arose to speak.
“You all know that three of the most eligible maidens in Europe were asked to our duchy this summer so that my son, Rafaello, might choose a bride among them. He has made his choice, and I thoroughly approve it. He will now remove two of the figures from the cake and present the replicas to the ladies to whom they belong. The figure that remains atop the cake is his choice. She will be joined by a marzipan replica of Rafaello himself. The day after their marriage is celebrated I shall retire, passing my ducal crown to my son, and that of my late wife to his bride.” Duke Titus crossed himself. “My son . . .”
The hall was deathly silent as Rafaello rose and plucked the figure of Louisa from the cake and handed it to her. There was a low murmur among the guests. Aceline du Barry smiled a triumphant little smile, which quickly faded as she realized that Rafaello was handing her her own replica. If Francesca had not suddenly been overwhelmed with her own shock, she might have burst out laughing at the French girl’s horrified face. The silk merchant’s second daughter watched as if in a dream as Duke Titus placed the marzipan figure representing his son next to her duplicate. Then Rafaello said clearly and aloud the words she both dreaded and feared.
“I choose Francesca Pietro d’Angelo of Florence to be my bride!” He pulled her up by the hand to face the hall as it erupted in cheers.
Smile, little fool, she could almost hear her mother saying, and she did, surprised.
Then Rafaello slid his arm about her waist, turning her slightly so she had to look up at him. He tilted her face, and she found herself unable to move as he bent to place a kiss upon her lips. It was not a simple kiss. It was deep and searching. She almost swooned in his arms as the hall erupted in cheers of congratulation.
“I won’t let you fall,” he murmured now against those lips.
“You don’t dare!” she hissed back. “You would look twice the fool I feel.”
“We will talk shortly in private,” he told her.
“I’m not getting married!”
He grinned down at her but said nothing more.
At that very moment a horrific shriek stunned the hall into shocked silence. Aceline du Barry was standing and in her hands was a sharp dagger pointed towards her heart.
“You cannot marry
her
! A common tradesman’s daughter? I have the blood of several great houses in my veins. It is I who is meant to be your wife. I will kill myself if you desert me!” The French girl’s eyes were wild. “I will kill you!”
Padre
Silvio quickly reached out and disarmed Aceline before she might harm herself. He did not believe that she would really kill Rafaello. “My daughter,” he said in his calm voice, “you must accept the inevitable. Come with me now and we shall pray together. God has a reason for everything that happens, and it is not up to any of us to dare to question God’s will, my daughter.” He led the now sobbing girl off.
“See what you’ve done!” Francesca scolded.
Rafaello looked surprised. “What have I done?” he said. “I never, not even once, encouraged her to believe I cared for her or was interested in her as a wife. She was the first to arrive, and for five long days until Louisa came I was forced to endure her company. I could quickly see her interest in me was my wealth and the title she would gain by becoming my wife. And nothing she has done over these past months has proven that my instincts were incorrect.”
“But why me? Oh, I know Louisa loves Valiant. You know it too, and you are not in love with Louisa yourself. It would appear you have chosen me because I was the only one left you could choose.
“You all know that three of the most eligible maidens in Europe were asked to our duchy this summer so that my son, Rafaello, might choose a bride among them. He has made his choice, and I thoroughly approve it. He will now remove two of the figures from the cake and present the replicas to the ladies to whom they belong. The figure that remains atop the cake is his choice. She will be joined by a marzipan replica of Rafaello himself. The day after their marriage is celebrated I shall retire, passing my ducal crown to my son, and that of my late wife to his bride.” Duke Titus crossed himself. “My son . . .”
The hall was deathly silent as Rafaello rose and plucked the figure of Louisa from the cake and handed it to her. There was a low murmur among the guests. Aceline du Barry smiled a triumphant little smile, which quickly faded as she realized that Rafaello was handing her her own replica. If Francesca had not suddenly been overwhelmed with her own shock, she might have burst out laughing at the French girl’s horrified face. The silk merchant’s second daughter watched as if in a dream as Duke Titus placed the marzipan figure representing his son next to her duplicate. Then Rafaello said clearly and aloud the words she both dreaded and feared.
“I choose Francesca Pietro d’Angelo of Florence to be my bride!” He pulled her up by the hand to face the hall as it erupted in cheers.
Smile, little fool, she could almost hear her mother saying, and she did, surprised.
Then Rafaello slid his arm about her waist, turning her slightly so she had to look up at him. He tilted her face, and she found herself unable to move as he bent to place a kiss upon her lips. It was not a simple kiss. It was deep and searching. She almost swooned in his arms as the hall erupted in cheers of congratulation.
“I won’t let you fall,” he murmured now against those lips.
“You don’t dare!” she hissed back. “You would look twice the fool I feel.”
“We will talk shortly in private,” he told her.
“I’m not getting married!”
He grinned down at her but said nothing more.
At that very moment a horrific shriek stunned the hall into shocked silence. Aceline du Barry was standing and in her hands was a sharp dagger pointed towards her heart.
“You cannot marry
her
! A common tradesman’s daughter? I have the blood of several great houses in my veins. It is I who is meant to be your wife. I will kill myself if you desert me!” The French girl’s eyes were wild. “I will kill you!”
Padre
Silvio quickly reached out and disarmed Aceline before she might harm herself. He did not believe that she would really kill Rafaello. “My daughter,” he said in his calm voice, “you must accept the inevitable. Come with me now and we shall pray together. God has a reason for everything that happens, and it is not up to any of us to dare to question God’s will, my daughter.” He led the now sobbing girl off.
“See what you’ve done!” Francesca scolded.
Rafaello looked surprised. “What have I done?” he said. “I never, not even once, encouraged her to believe I cared for her or was interested in her as a wife. She was the first to arrive, and for five long days until Louisa came I was forced to endure her company. I could quickly see her interest in me was my wealth and the title she would gain by becoming my wife. And nothing she has done over these past months has proven that my instincts were incorrect.”
“But why me? Oh, I know Louisa loves Valiant. You know it too, and you are not in love with Louisa yourself. It would appear you have chosen me because I was the only one left you could choose.
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