CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9

Because the Montague staff had unfolded the feast across a myriad of tables in the ballroom, the garden was empty of guests. The full moon hid behind towering clouds that lumbered across the sky on a gentle breeze. Strategically placed flaming torches lit the veranda and the back of the house, but as I moved farther along the paths, deeper into the maze of boxwood hedges and cypress trees, the area loomed in shadow. I silently cursed the darkness, for that gave Duke Stephano the advantage of surprise, and I had no doubt he'd gladly use it to do me an injury or, as Porcia warned, rape me.

As I glided along the edge of the gravel paths, I kept on the grass to avoid the betraying crunch of my footsteps. I neared the center of the garden, breathed the cooling night air, listened to the music and laughter from the party, wished I was back among the guests and not out here with a knife up my sleeve and the hope I would come out alive. When I heard the tinkle of the fountain where cupid shot water out of his arrow of love, I knew I had arrived at the garden's center.

But where were the torches? At least one should burn out here to light the way of any guest who strolled the paths. Had Duke Stephano doused them as part of his evil plan to frighten me, grab me, despoil me? I slowed my pace and scanned the area, trying to see Duke Stephano's bulky outline in the dark, but I observed no trace of him.

Did I trust him?

Of course not. As I inched forward, I pulled the knife from my sleeve. The handle was sticky with blood. My blood, and I was struck by the stupidity of stowing a sharp, unprotected blade on my person. Sadly for me, no one had left a sleeve scabbard lying around the roast duck.

I would obtain such a scabbard should I live through this night. Surely even a virgin had the right to protect herself from a monster.

At my own wit, I snorted in unseemly amusement. Porcia's everlasting drumbeat insistence on my purity had taken root against my will.

As I neared the far end of the fountain away from the house, I could discern the tall, trimmed shapes of the hedges, and the water in the pool began to shimmer. The moon sought to break through the clouds. My eyes narrowed as I inched forward.

My foot in its soft slipper kicked something that obstructed the pathway. The warm remnants of a torch, recently extinguished. I pushed it out of my way with my toe, took another step, and struck something large, long, heavy, inert like clay, growing cold . . .

A corpse. Dear God, a corpse!

I admit it, I screamed, a thin sound in the dense night air, and in my haste to back away, my weight overbalanced. I fell forward. I hit hard on the . . . on the dead body. My knife flew out of my hand and skidded off into the dark. My palm landed in a sticky pool that felt too much like the blood in my sleeve. I groped and found the hilt of a knife buried in . . . in the chest of this corpse. The large male dead corpse. All instinct and revulsion, I pushed myself to my feet and backed up—and ran into a living man, my back to his front.

He grabbed me, clapped his hand over my mouth.

The killer!

I bit down hard.

He yanked his hand away. "Woman! I'm trying to protect you."

The prince. Prince Escalus. His voice. I was relieved, but only for a moment. "Protect me? From whom? Whoever this is, is dead!"

"Whoever it is? Do you not know?"

Then . . . then the moon burst through the clouds and I saw who had been slain by a knife—not my knife—in his chest. My betrothed. Duke Stephano, his eyes wide and staring, a look of terror contorting his features.

Confused thoughts chased through my mind. I felt guilty, as if I'd killed him with my hatred. Relieved, because he was dead. And frightened because . . .

"Did you kill him?" A logical question, I deemed.

"I did not. I don't sneak up on a man in the dark and put a knife in his chest." The poised, cool, unemotional prince took umbrage at any insinuation he would act with such dishonor.

But I wasn't wrong. "In his chest. Not his back, in his chest. This was no sneak attack. Look at him. He saw something, someone, and failed to defend himself! Who else but you—?"

Nearby in the garden, drunken young men laughed and hooted.

Prince Escalus caught my hand. "Let us not be caught hovering over the body."

Right. Right. The prince was right. The Montagues had thrown a party. They'd invited everyone in Verona. Now that the initial hungers had been satiated, guests would be wandering everywhere. Were wandering everywhere.

I hovered on the edge of hysteria, but I still had my wits about me. "Wait." I wrestled myself free, groped, searched the bushes, found my knife, and joined him.

I wanted to run, but he said, "Slowly, with dignity."

Quite right. It wouldn't do to look suspicious. Using the utmost care, I tucked the blade into my sleeve, then allowed him to place my hand on his arm. He led me on a leisurely stroll along the shadowy garden path lined with yet more tall boxwood hedges. About halfway down the walk, shouting arose behind us. Boisterous young men raised their voices in consternation. "Murder most dreadful!" they yelled, and, "Duke Stephano is stabbed through the heart!"

My heart beat quickly; would we meet someone, be implicated in the death?

We reached a cross path. Prince Escalus stopped and in a low voice said, "We need a discreet way back to the festivities."

I knew the garden. I'd grown up in this garden. "This way." As we walked toward the kitchens, the shouting grew fainter with distance. My heart began to beat at its normal rate and my mind to work in its usual rational manner. I thought carefully about my words before I uttered them. "I mean no disrespect to your good name, my lord, on reflection I realize my mistake in thinking you would have stabbed Duke Stephano on a dark night when he was undefended. But the question remains, what are you doing out here?"

"Porcia—" he began.

"Porcia." I slapped my forehead. "Of course, Porcia!"

"Who has more headdress than wit, was loudly declaiming to her group of chin-wagging cronies that you'd gone out to the garden with a knife and with the intent of killing Duke Stephano and freeing yourself of—"

"That infinite and endless liar!"

"You did not tell her that?"

"No. I was foolish, but not that foolish." I didn't want to explain, but I had no choice. "I showed her the knife."

"That was foolish, a trait I had not previously noted about you. Previously, you seemed to be quite sensible."

"Thank you."

He cleared his throat. "What brought on this particular recklessness?"

I sighed. "I lost my temper."

"I had noted the temper."

He had noted? He had noted . . . me? Yes, he visited homes, spoke to men both common and renown, called each person by name. He was the consummate prince. Yet he never revealed anything of himself, never received the Veronese in his private chambers, only in the public parts of the palace. His sister, born months after his father's murder, had been seen so seldom rumors claimed he had reason to keep her hidden. He kept everything about the Leonardi family secret and private, and I hadn't imagined he watched others so assiduously. Certainly not me, an aging spinster of a family loyal to his reign. "Sometimes it seems as if it can do no harm to loose the fiend of my temper. I am taught better now."

"No person of influence can ever release their personal demons without unexpected repercussion."

"I'm not a person of influence, my prince."

"So you have become." Before I could protest, he continued. "Fortune smiled that I overheard Porcia, for I told her I had caught you on the terrace and as prince, reprimanded you for even thinking of such impropriety. . . . She smirked."

"As prince, did you reprimand her for filling gossips' bowl?" I asked icily.

"I did. Her pleasure vanished in a gobble of peahen indignation. Promptly I slipped away and hurried to apprehend you before you did harm, and stumbled on"—he pointed back the way we came—"that!"

"You could have stopped me before I fell on him!" I flexed my hands, sticky with blood.

"I wanted to see how you reacted."

My voice rose. "How I reacted?"

"Hush." He waited until I had calmed. "You may not have done the deed, but you might have instigated it with your lover."

"My lover?" I may have shouted, for the prince pulled me to a halt and once more put his hand over my mouth. I didn't bite him this time, but I tasted the blood on his hand. "Whose blood is that?" I asked quietly.

"Mine. You broke the skin."

"Good."

The prince frowned at this honest statement.

We listened. Although we'd moved away from the hubbub created by the discovery of Duke Stephano, clearly word had spread. We could see a glow of many torches at the fountain, the yelling of voices spreading throughout the garden, and on the terrace, one shrill female's commentary.

"Porcia," I said in loathing.

"Indeed. When we're inside, we must break apart and both enter by different means."

"We're almost there." I led him toward the chapel and pointed down the candlelit corridor. "Take a left. You'll enter the ballroom and from thence you can navigate to the terrace. I'll come from the direction of the ladies' facilities."

He nodded and started down the corridor.

"My lord prince."

He stopped and looked back, a brooding-browed man in dark, elegant clothing who carried night's aura like a weight.

I said, "I do not have a lover."

"Young Lysander is handsome, from a good family, kind-hearted, and infatuated with you."

"Is he?" I fought the irresistible smile that wanted to form on my lips.

"As I'm sure you know." Prince Escalus crushed any maidenly pleasure with his cool tones and smooth countenance. "He would be a good match for you and as such, you two would form the bridge across the disagreement between your families. Do you wish me to speak to your father about instigating marital negotiations?"

"Thank you, my lord prince, but that would be premature. This evening we met for the first time." I recalled Lysander's riotous entrance into the ball. "He seemed easily recovered from any unhappiness about my upcoming nuptials. I doubt if I'll see him again."

"And of course, this evening you lost your . . . what? Fourth betrothed?"

In less than twenty-four hours I'd been betrothed, fallen in love with another, been scorned by that love, and left before the altar with only death as a bridegroom. Yet when faced with the knowledge of Duke Stephano's murder, I thought only of Lysander. What did this indifference show about me? That my affection should be engaged before my body was bargained?

Yes, my parents bore witness to the success of that union. "Duke Stephano was my fifth betrothed."

"You lost him, although not in the usual way."

"No. No, the others did not choose death, but another mate."

"How fortunate for you that each of the others discovered his desire before the two of you were one in the eyes of God."

"Yes . . ." Fortune had nothing to do with it. The young men hadn't married me because I'd arranged for each of them to find their one true love, which was not me. But it would hardly do to say so.

My eyes narrowed on Prince Escalus. He was a handsome man, if one discounted his scars and dour demeanor, and fit, if one discounted the limp, a renowned swordsman and a forceful statesman. Yet he lacked a family of elders. Someone needed to help him find a wife to support him in his duties.

Who better to arrange a match than me, who had already arranged four successful unions?

The young lady should be accomplished, of course, but more than that, she should bring him joy and passion. She should be tactful, able to advise him on matters relating to womanly issues: charity for the poor, widows and children in need, those invisible issues of benevolence and generosity. She should know her place, and never speak of things having to do with the law and the duties of a prince's rule.

My sister Katherina would be a good mate to any man, but she was thirteen and Prince Escalus was twenty-four, for eleven years already the Prince of Verona. I hesitated to condemn my own sister to the onerous task of supporting a man so driven by duty. But there were others, all eager to marry into such a noble family, and I knew with judicious thought and a little scheming I could find a woman for Prince Escalus who would make him the happiest of men . . . if I survived this night without accusation and imprisonment.

When I ceased my plotting and returned my focus to Prince Escalus, I found him observing me with a cynical twist to his lips. It was almost as if he read my very thoughts and did not appreciate them. Yet he said only, "Make sure you bring the knife with you to the terrace."

I curtsied. "As you command, my prince."