I caught up with Cal. “You have no relatives whom we must invite to the wedding?”

He slowed. “Uncle Yago and his wife, Lugrezia.”

“Right.” I glanced around the great walk as if expecting them to materialize. “Don’t they live in Verona? Shouldn’t they be here? Now? At your table awaiting their dinner?”

“They were invited. So yes. They were quite surly about my marriage to my Chiarretta. It seems history repeats itself.”

“‘Surly’? That makes no sense. If you remove from this world without heirs, your uncle will inherit the role of podestà, will he not?”

“He flatters himself so. He certainly intended it when my father was murdered, and my aunt vociferously urged him on, but he faltered at the last moment.”

“‘Faltered’? Why?” I viewed the still, smooth countenance that, now that I knew how, gave clarity to the subject. “Not out of loyalty and kindness to you, I assume?”

“Uncle Yago’s greatest concern is his health, which he laments daily.”

At once, I recalled Elder’s belief that he’d stabbed the assassin with the tip of his knife, and I asked, “What issue has he?”

“At the same time my father was dispatched by so cowardly a villain, my uncle had been celebrating with friends the Leonardi triumph over the Acquasassos. On his way home, sabotage delayed his sedan chair. He barely fended off an attack by armed knaves. The wound to his abdomen has never healed—or so he claims. My uncle has always been a man of many vapors and ill humors, much disgruntlement and discontent.”

“Hm.” Had Uncle Yago drugged Elder and worn the assassin’s devil’s mask?

“When he dies, I swear his tombstone will say, ‘See, I told you I was sick.’ ”

Startled from my grim concentrations, I burst into laughter hearty enough to bring tears to my eyes.

Cal stopped to view me as if the burst of unreserved merriment unnerved him.

Had I offended? I promptly brought myself under control and glanced around. “Is it inappropriate for me to laugh here?”

“No. Not at all! Don’t stop. Your laughter is delightful.”

“Why do you stare at me in such astonishment?”

He spoke with painful slowness. “I can’t remember the last time someone laughed out loud in this palace. I can’t remember if anyone has ever laughed so restrainedly at some small witticism I said.”

Without a thought to my “don’t touch” policy, I tucked my hand into his arm. “That was no small witticism. I don’t know your uncle, but that was funny.” Now that I knew I could, I grinned.

“Not funny. It’s true.”

“Wit is truth wrapped in delicate glass beads threaded with gold.” While thinking that whenever Elder’s brother made an appearance at our festivities, I’d make a study of him, I started once more toward the dining room.

Cal didn’t, and as I turned to face him, I realized that once more, he’d wrapped himself in a dark cloak of passion, and only the lights were the dark flames that glowed in his eyes.

I thought, Merda! He’s going to kiss me again.

What good is a ghost if he can’t hover and nag as a chaperon should, and why am I leaning into Cal?

My own mind answered me, Because he may not be your One True Love, but he can kiss until the blood sings like rich red wine in your veins.

Then . . . in a lightning-swift change, I lost his attention. He looked over my head toward the dining room, and I looked, too.

Papà stood there as Imogene and Emilia trooped past him, directing them to the open door of the palace’s atrium.

“What are the children doing? Where are they going?” Cal asked me.

“If I were to guess, I’d say Mamma arranged for them to have a separate feast. Probably there’s a children’s table set up where they can laugh as loud as they want, sing, jump up, and run around—” Cal looked so dumbfounded, I stopped.

“It’s all right, Cal, in Veronese society, it’s actually normal for children to eat independently of the adults.

It’s only in the Montague household where we insist on keeping the family together for meals. ”

“Princess Isabella will remain, and be lonely!”

“I don’t think so.” I nodded as Katherina, Princess Isabella, and Cesario walked out, hand in hand.

“The kitchen will be overwhelmed with two meals!”

“I hope not, since that’s a clear sign of an ill-functioning cook”—which didn’t surprise me, considering the palace’s reputation—“but in any case, Mamma will have also arranged a simple repast for the children.”

“Without supervision, they’ll be wild!”

“Who says they’re without supervision?” I indicated Nurse’s muscular figure stalking after the children. “She’ll keep them under control. Cal, why so concerned that the kidlets are at a separate table?”

“I wanted our families to visit, to get to know each other. I want us to be . . . close.”

“One of the reasons you chose me was for my family.” I was repeating one of the things the romantic fool (sarcasm) had mentioned that night after he’d arranged to have us caught in a compromising position. “You said it’s important to like your in-laws.”

“Yes.”

“In the next months, Cal, I promise, we’ll have more togetherness with the Montagues and Capulets than you could possibly desire, and as the children get to know you and lose their awe, you’ll think twice about this match you’ve brought upon us.”

He did that “looming” trick of his. “I will not.”

I did that “not cringing” trick of mine. “Let them go now and both the adults and the children will retain their polish a little longer.”