Page 4 of Thus with a Kiss I Die
This time, I wrapped both arms around her. “Honey, wearea family forever and ever. But although I’m still a virgin”—Blessed Mary, how I’d come to hate that word!—“my virtue has been besmirched. I must either get me to a nunnery or get married to the man who did the besmirching.”
“Why?” she wailed. “Why can’t you stay here?”
“Prince Escalus is not a bad man. I don’t believe he’ll beat me or lock me up or tell me to change to be a wife more suitable for the podestà. Indeed, he was married once before to Princess Chiarretta, and he treated her with great deference and mourned when she died in childbirth with his son. Prince Escalus seems very aware of what I am like—”
“Nicetette,” Imogene muttered.
“Yes. For that, and other reasons, is why he graced me . . . with the honor . . . of being his wife.” I was descending into bitterness and sarcasm, and that wasn’t the purpose of this conversation. My duty now was to explain clearly to Imogene the results of her earnestly given suggestion, so I pulled up my big-girlcamiciaand said, “If I fail to marry or retire with my shame to a convent, the family will be ostracized.You’llbe ostracized. No other family will allow their son to marry you.”
“I don’t care.”
She meant it, I knew . . . now. “There’s more.” I lifted one finger. “No other family will allow their sons to marry Katherina or Emilia. Cesario will never be able to find a bride to carry on the noble line of Montague. Our married sisters won’t be allowed to visit us. We’ll wither and die in Casa Montague. Last but not least, my darling Imogene, the legend and romance that is Romeo and Juliet will be forever tarnished.”
She swallowed and gave a curt nod of understanding. “Then it is thus. Can I help you prepare for your wedding?”
“I’llneedyou to help me prepare for the wedding. We’ll make it a proper Montague celebration.”
Imogene brightened. “That would serve the ol’ prince right!”
CHAPTER3
“Oh, man, do we have to?”
“It could be fun.”
“A tour of the palace? Nuh-uh.”
“Probably there’ll be art and, you know, culture.”
Gloomy silence.
“It won’t be so bad. WelikePrincess Isabella.”
“IlovePrincess Isabella.” Cesario was six years old and infatuated with Prince Escalus’s sister, who was twelve. He saw no impediment in the age gap—like my father, he had incredible confidence in himself and his own powers of persuasion.
“And we like food.” Katherina, thirteen, was trying hard to look on the bright side.
“The palace isinfamousfor its kitchen.” Emilia had just turned eight; she was the family wit and food critic.
“We’ll have to use our best manners.” For Imogene, this was clearly the worst of the upcoming ordeal.
“Tuesday istomorrow night.”
More gloomy silence.
“ ‘Within the hour’? Who says that?” Papà was incredulous.
“One assumes the prince,” Mamma said sensibly.
“We’re stuck.” Imogene expressed solid despair better than any of us.
Gloom deepened over my family: my parents, Romeo and Juliet, and my younger, still-living-at-home siblings Katherina, Imogene, Emilia, and Cesario. Mamma had called us to the family table in the atrium of our spacious home in Verona for the reading of the invitation. It was chilly out here; autumn had arrived early, but she was at the overheated portion of her pregnancy.
I spoke up. “I’ll write back and accept?” I asked brightly.
“Better let me do it.” Mamma lifted herself carefully out of her chair, hand on her back. Papà’s hand hovered behind her, but he didn’t dare help. She was also at the snappish part of her pregnancy. “I’m tactful, unlike everyone else in the family.”
Our faithful family nurse hurried over to offer her arm. Mamma took it and we watched them enter the library.
