“Yet you do not marry,” the Venetian remarked.

“That is not meant to be. Our love, yes. But naught else. We have both understood that from the beginning,” the earl explained.

The artist nodded slowly, finally understanding. “Tragico,” he said. “To be loved by a woman like that, knowing you must one day be parted. How do you both bear it, my lord? I know that I could not.”

“We are grateful for the time we are given, maestro. Surely you understand that nothing in our lives is permanent. Everything is in a continuous flux around us,” Patrick said quietly.

“But to have no hope!” the artist cried dramatically.

The Earl of Glenkirk laughed. “But we do have hope, maestro. We hope that each day of bliss we share together will lead to another. All things eventually come to an end. Most people refuse to accept that truth. Rosamund and I do. We may be together for years. We may not. When the time comes that we must be separated, we will part reluctantly, sadly, but we will be happy for what we have had together and for the memories we will both always carry with us no matter where our paths in life take us.”

The artist sighed gustily. “You are a braver and nobler man than I, my lord. I could not accept the knowledge so sanguinely as you have. But that said, be warned I shall continue my attempts to seduce the bella Rosamund. Women do not resist Loredano for long.” And he grinned his engaging grin at the Scotsman.

“You will undoubtedly come to a bad end, maestro, killed by an outraged father or husband,” the earl chuckled. “I bid you good day, then.” And he ushered the artist from the terrace, through the dayroom, down the stairs, and out into the courtyard. “When will you begin my portrait?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” the artist answered him. “I shall paint the beautiful lady early, and you afterwards.” Then Paolo Loredano mounted the horse being held for him by a groom and rode off.

The earl turned to go back into the villa only to be met by Rosamund on her way out. “Where are you going?” he asked her, for a moment suspicious and jealous.

“We are going to see the bishop,” she replied. “I want Annie and Dermid wed quickly.” She turned to the groom. “Fetch our horses, Giovanni,” she told the man.

He felt foolish, but he kept his feelings to himself. “Aye, it is best we go together,” he agreed. She was so beautiful. Today she wore a wonderful pale green silk gown, embroidered with darker green and gold threads. Her beautiful hair was covered by a dainty lace veil that had been dyed to match her gown. Had there ever been a lovelier woman than Rosamund Bolton?

The animals were brought, and they mounted them, riding through the embassy gates and down the hill to the main square of Arcobaleno, then to the cathedral. The bells in the old church began to toll the noon hour, and after tethering their horses they entered the stone edifice where the bishop would be celebrating the noon mass known as sext. They joined the other congregants, kneeling on the velvet cushions provided for the gentry as they prayed. A choir of boys sang sweetly, their young voices piercing the quiet atmosphere of the cathedral heights. The air was fragrant with frankincense and myrrh as the priest assisting the bishop wafted the censer about. Tall pure white beeswax candles in ornate gold candlesticks decorated the altars, the delicate flames flickering in the afternoon light that streamed in through the stained-glass windows making multicolored patterns on the gray stone floors. Looking up at the windows about the cathedral Rosamund remembered the first time she had seen stained glass and her silent vow to one day have such glass at Friarsgate.

When the mass was over they approached the bishop, requesting a moment of his time. The elderly man was the same cleric who had performed Janet’s betrothal ceremony to the duke’s son years ago. He was quite frail now, and he looked at Patrick and said, “I should admonish you and the lady for your behavior, my lord, but I shall not. What is it I may do for you?”

“We would like you to waive the banns of marriage for our two servants, my lord bishop. It is best they marry soon,” the earl said.

“Is there a child involved?” the bishop asked.

“Not that we are aware of yet, my lord bishop, but it is best they are married quickly. The air of San Lorenzo seems to be conducive to romance,” Patrick responded.

The bishop chuckled. “I will waive the banns for them. Bring them to me tomorrow before sext, and I will marry them myself. Would that I might do the same for you and your lady, my lord.”

“Would that you could,” the earl replied.

The bishop turned and peered at Rosamund. “Have you run away from your husband, my child?” he inquired of her.

“I am widowed, my lord bishop,” she answered him quietly.

“Then there are other reasons that cannot be overcome,” the old man said, nodding. “Kneel before me, my children.” They knelt, and the elderly bishop blessed them, making the sign of the cross over them.

Rosamund began to weep softly, and Patrick felt tears pricking his own eyes.

The bishop smiled softly as he stood over them, then bid them rise. Thanking him, they left the cathedral, riding silently up the hill back to the ambassador’s villa.

“I will tell Annie,” Rosamund said as they mounted the stairs back to their apartment. “There are preparations to be made. Annie should have a fine gown for her wedding day. Pietro,” she called, and the majordomo was there.

“Madame?” he said.

“Send for Celestina. Annie is to wed Dermid tomorrow. The bishop is performing the ceremony in the cathedral. We need a gown for the bride,” Rosamund told him, and she smiled.

“At once, madame!” Pietro replied, and he hurried off to find a servant to send to his daughter’s shop.

“Annie! Annie, where are you?” Rosamund called, entering their apartments.

“Here, my lady,” the girl said, coming into the dayroom.

“Tomorrow is your wedding day, Annie of Friarsgate! The bishop has waived the banns and will marry you to Dermid himself!”

“In the cathedral?” Annie was wide-eyed.

“In the cathedral,” Rosamund replied, smiling. “I’ve sent for Celestina, for you must have a pretty dress.”

“Oh, my lady!” Annie burst into fulsome tears. “You are too good to me, and I was so naughty.” She lifted her apron to wipe at her eyes.

“I hardly have set you an example to follow, Annie, but follow it you did, and you should not have. Still, I know you and Dermid love each other or you should not have strayed from the path of virtue. Dry your eyes, lass. We have a few things to do before this is finished.”

“Oh, my lady!” Annie’s eyes were suddenly round with worry. “What if Dermid and I stop loving each other once we wed?”

“That is not likely to happen,” Rosamund reassured her servant. “Women must wed, Annie, if they do not enter the church. Dermid is a good man. He was warned by his master to treat you with respect. But his heart became involved, I fear, and you are a very pretty girl. He will not stop loving you, lass. And you must be a good wife to him. But you will be, I know.”

“You know all about love, my lady, don’t you?” Annie said.

“Aye,” Rosamund replied with a smile. “I do know all about love.”


Celestina arrived in a flurry of excitement, her daughter Maria behind her, weighed down by several gowns. “A wedding!” she exclaimed, smiling. “Maria! Put the gowns on the chair!” She glared at Rosamund. “I could wish it were for you, signora, and not your serving girl. She is with bambino?”

“God’s foot, I hope not!” Rosamund exclaimed, making an attempt to save Annie’s reputation.

“ ’Tis a miracle, then,” Celestina said dryly. “Arcobaleno is a small place. Little can be kept secret. The lusty wench has been seen with her lover strolling in the square at night. They kiss and they kiss. We both know what much kissing can lead to, eh, signora?” And she laughed her hearty laugh, her several chins waggling up and down as she did. Then she became serious. “Come, girl, let us see what you will have.”

“Oh, my lady, you choose,” Annie said, suddenly overwhelmed by it all.

“Let us see what Celestina has brought you,” Rosamund replied. She looked at the three gowns spread upon the table and chairs in the dayroom. “The pink is too deep and bold a color,” she said. “What is it the Spanish say? It takes a brave woman to wear yellow. I think we are not that brave, and besides this lovely blue suits your coloring best, Annie. Do you like it?”

“I ain’t never had anything this fine, my lady,” Annie said softly. She stared at the gown of pale blue brocade. The garment had soft linen pleating about its low square neckline, a tightly fitted bodice, low tight sleeves with an embroidered cuff, and a matching embroidered hanging girdle.

“Let’s try it on, then,” Rosamund said.

Celestina and Maria helped the young servingwoman from her garments and into the blue gown. To their surprise, the fit was a perfect one. Annie fingered the silky skirt, a dreamy smile upon her face.

“It needs nothing,” Celestina remarked, sounding not just a little pleased. “Her hair should be unbound despite her naughty behavior, for propriety’s sake if nothing else. But a wreath of flowers in her hair would not be wrong, signora.” She nodded. “She is a pretty bride, eh? And with the long sleeves she can wear the gown back home in your icy England.”

“Do you like it, Annie? Will it suit?” Rosamund gently pressed her servant.

“Like it? Oh, my lady! In all my born days I did not think to have such a wonderful gown! I only hope I do not wake from this dream.” She was smiling.

“Get out of the gown, girl!” Celestina said impatiently. “You will ruin it before your wedding. I can see you are preparing to weep. Tearstains are difficult to remove!” She and Maria hurried to remove the garment from Annie’s slender frame.

“You may send the bill to the earl,” Rosamund said. “ ’Tis his man Annie is marrying tomorrow.”

Celestina chortled. “Aye, he should pay for it since his servant could not behave himself. And I hope he’ll see the bride and groom have a bit of wine drunk to their long life and many bambini, signora.”

Rosamund nodded. “Grazia, Signora Celestina,” she said. “We are in your debt again for your kindness.”

“Hang the gown in a cupboard, girl,” Celestina instructed Annie. “You don’t want to have wrinkles come the morrow.” She nodded at Rosamund. “Ciao, signora. Your command of the Italian tongue grows quite good. San Lorenzo seems to agree with you, eh?” Then, signaling to Maria, who had packed up the other two gowns, she departed with a wave of her plump hand.

“You did not ask the price of the gown, my lady,” Annie said softly.

“It is a simple garment, Annie, and Celestina will be fair,” Rosamund responded. “To haggle the cost would have been insulting. Besides, I know his lordship would want you to look your best for Dermid. Now, do not tell him about your gown, for it would be bad fortune. And you will sleep with me tonight, Annie. Abstinence and anticipation will make for a far more exciting wedding night,” Rosamund told her servant.

Annie nodded. “Yes, my lady,” she replied meekly.

“Go and find Pietro for me now,” Rosamund instructed the girl, who hurried off to do her mistress’ bidding.

The old majordomo came, and bowing, asked, “How may I serve you, my lady?”

“Neither of the servants’ chambers can contain a bed suitable for a husband and his wife, Pietro. Is there perhaps a small room that Annie and Dermid might have for themselves?” She smiled. “I indulge them, I know, but they are so in love.”

“By chance,” Pietro responded, his eyes twinkling, “there is a single bedchamber next to your apartment, my lady. It is unoccupied. The ambassador rarely has a houseful of guests, and we are expecting no one that I am aware of at the moment. The bed is quite commodious, and suitable to a newly wed couple. But your servants will also be easily available to you. Will that suit?”

“It will more than suit, Pietro, and I am grateful for your courtesy towards Annie and Dermid,” Rosamund answered him.

“I shall have the housekeeper air out the chamber and prepare it for the bride and groom. After that, however, they must keep it clean and neat themselves,” Pietro said.

“Annie is a good housekeeper,” Rosamund promised.

The majordomo bowed and departed the apartment.

“What is this?” Patrick demanded as he reentered the dayroom. “Annie says she is to sleep with you tonight.”

“I think it best,” Rosamund said. “We must at least preserve the appearance of propriety, my lord. And Pietro is opening up the bedchamber next to our apartment so Annie and Dermid may have their privacy when they are not needed.”