Bianca knew she might ask to see her new home, but she did not. Seeing it would have made the reality of her life fact. But she did wonder if the gardens were as lovely as her father’s, for like most respectable married women, she would not leave her home except on rare occasions. Her servants would do the marketing. Sebastiano Rovere was an extremely old-fashioned man and had told her quite frankly that a priest would come and say Mass when she wished it. There was no church on his piazza. Unless it was a wedding or a funeral, it was unlikely she would even see her sisters again, although she knew that her father, being less traditional, would allow her mother to visit her.
“You will come tomorrow,” Bianca said to Orianna as she was being dressed for her wedding.
“Not tomorrow, but in a few days’ time,” Orianna promised her daughter, thinking as she did how beautiful Bianca looked in her wedding gown.
It was silk, of course. A very rare fabric, for it had not been imported from China, as all of the bolts in her husband’s warehouses were. It had been spun from the thread of the silkworms Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo raised himself in a hidden garden of mulberry bushes outside of the city. There was enough silk this year for one gown, and no more. Pure white, the fitted bodice with its squared neckline was embroidered with pearls over lace. The sleeves were lace-edged silk, heavily embroidered with gold thread and pearls.
The full skirt was lace trimmed at its hem. Bianca’s long dark hair was left loose, and she carried but a single white rose in her hand.
All of her siblings were to be allowed to attend the ceremony in Santa Anna Dolce, a rare privilege, but Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo was proud of his family. An occasion such as this one gave other important men and their wives the opportunity to see the strong, healthy children he and Orianna had produced. He would soon have to find a wife for Marco. Georgio would go to the Church next year. He was clever, and Giovanni had no doubt he would one day gain a cardinal’s red cap. Having a cardinal in the family was a useful thing, as the Borgias in Rome were discovering.
But today was for Bianca and her marriage to Sebastiano Rovere. While his conscience still troubled him over the match, he had, as his daughter had, resigned himself to it. Nothing could be changed now.
Chapter 3
Because of the time of year, an awning had been run between the palazzo of the Pietro d’Angelo family, across the piazza, and up the steps of Santa Anna Dolce. A cold, light rain fell as the silk merchant brought his eldest daughter to her destiny. His wife and children had preceded them and now waited in the crowded church. Despite the fur-lined cloak that had been put over her shoulders to protect her, Bianca felt cold, and the garment was removed the moment they entered the building.
Her father led her up the long aisle of the church past nameless people she did not know. Some smiled at her. Others simply marveled at the girl’s extraordinary beauty. Some whispered to their companions knowingly. Bianca was numb. She would shortly have the Church’s blessing on her marriage. She didn’t want it! She didn’t want this union. She was terrified of Sebastiano Rovere, who now stood waiting for her at the end of the aisle, a toothy smile decorating his darkly handsome face, his lust barely concealed.
Her father put her hand into that of Rovere. Bianca remembered to acknowledge him with a small nod of her head. They knelt at Father Bonamico’s instruction. She answered when required, but she didn’t really hear the words being spoken. She just instinctively knew what was expected of her and performed her duty. That was all that would be needed of her from now on. That she do her duty.
And after the church had done what was expected of it, Bianca and her new husband led her family and the guests back across the square to the Pietro d’Angelo palazzo, where tables covered in the finest linen cloths and topped with golden candelabras had been set up in the formalsala da pranzo. Bianca had never had a meal in this dining room, with its mural-covered walls and coffered ceiling. Their family ate in a smaller and more intimate chamber. This was where her father entertained his guests. Tomorrow there would be another wedding feast given in her new home by her husband.
The menu was extensive, with several kinds of pasta, salads, and roasted meats and poultry. There were freshly baked breads and rich wines. Unlike many, Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo did not serve his best wines first and afterwards his worst, believing as so many did that no one would notice. He served only his best wines for the entire feast, which led the bridegroom to imbibe too much.
Sebastiano Rovere knew he was drinking too much, but tonight he could not seem to stop himself. Soon, soon Bianca would lie naked in his bed, at his mercy. The thought of her fear, of her screams as he took her virginity, excited him almost beyond bearing. And she was fearful of his attentions, he knew. She accepted his kisses easily enough now, but when his hands would roam over her nubile young body, a look would cross her face and she would struggle not to forbid him, although he knew she wanted to do so.
He turned his head to look at her now. The neckline of her wedding gown had been cut particularly low. Her full young breasts almost swelled over the lace edging, and he had seen many men in the room tonight admiring the view.Little bitch,he thought.She will soon learn at my hand the consequences of her teasing.His fourteen-year-old son, Alberto, could not take his eyes from Bianca’s tempting cleavage. Alberto needed to have a wife. Stefano had told their father that the young devil could hardly keep his cock in his hose these days. Sebastiano chuckled. Alberto was like his father.
It was time to go home. They had remained long enough to satisfy custom, and he wanted to fuck Bianca now. He arose from his seat, reaching out to pull Bianca up too. “My friends,” he said, his voice slurring, “it is time for me to take my bride to my bed. I thank you all for coming, and will look forward to your company at our own wedding banquet tomorrow.”
Bianca looked like a young deer caught before a hunter. Orianna came quickly to her daughter’s side. “I will see my daughter settled in her litter,signore,” she said and led Bianca from thesala da pranzo. “You know what is expected of you,” Orianna said in a no-nonsense voice she hoped would calm Bianca. “I have carefully instructed you, daughter, and I know he has had his hands all over you these past few months. Whatever you do, show no fear. The deflowering is quickly over and done with, Bianca. Then all you need do is let him have his way with you. His condition is such that I doubt he will do much more tonight than what is required of him. And after the newness of you wears off for him, or you get yourself with child quickly, it is unlikely he will disturb you but for now and again.”
Bianca nodded. It all seemed so simple to her mother, but it was not. “He wants no more children,” she told her mother.
Orianna looked shocked. Then she said, “It is not up to him. It is up to God.”
The litter was waiting outside the palazzo. Orianna helped her daughter into it, wrapping a wool and fur robe about her. “Agata is waiting for you,” she said. “God bless you, my child. I will come in a few days to see you.” Then Orianna signaled the litter bearers to be on their way. By the time her new son-in-law reached his house, Bianca would be waiting for him in their marriage bed.
It was almost an hour before Sebastiano Rovere came forth to mount his horse, and with his son, Alberto, and their armed escort, departed for his own house. Arriving, he found the palazzo quiet. A servant opened the door, greeting his master.
“Where is my bride?” he asked.
“She was brought to her apartments when she arrived, my lord. Her servingwoman is with her.”
“Have her brought to my rooms immediately,” Sebastiano ordered the man.
“At once, my lord,” the servant said, hurrying off. Reaching the newly refurbished apartment of his master’s bride, he knocked at the door and almost at once found himself facing a stern-faced servingwoman. “The master wishes his bride to join him in his chambers,” he said to the woman.
“My young mistress is awaiting her bridegroom in her own bed.”
“Mistress, in this house we never question the master’s orders,” the servingman said quietly. “Please, I beg of you, do not send me back to him with such a message. He can be particularly harsh when he is defied, or drunk. Tonight he is drunk.”
“It is unorthodox, but wait while I see my little lady properly garbed, and then show us the way. My name is Agata.”
“I am Antonio, and I will wait,” the man said.
Agata went back through her mistress’s new apartment to the bedchamber, where Bianca was waiting for her husband in her bed. She was naked. “Your bridegroom has sent a servant for you to attend him in his rooms,” she said disapprovingly to the girl.
