Still Star-Crossed Read Free Page B

the cemetery every day in my mourning garb. I would have ten proposals ere I left the gates.”
    Livia snorted and made a grab for the dress, but Rosaline swung it away, holding it out before her and curtsying to it as though it were a young man. “Of course, sir, I’d be honored to wed thee,” she said to it, dancing it out of Livia’s grasp, “but only if thou wilt promise to find a husband for my poor, unmarriageable sister, Livia.”
    Livia shrieked in mock outrage and charged her sister, but long-legged Rosaline easily outran her, laughing. Their chase took them out of Livia’s bedroom and down the stairs of the house to the main foyer. “Hast thou a clubfooted bastardbrother, my lord? A servant with a harelip, perhaps? Any man who can bear the indignity of a wife who does not look her best in black—”
    Rosaline stopped so suddenly that Livia nearly ran into her. Their aunt’s steward was in their doorway.
    Rosaline had never much cared for Lucullus. He was a large, quiet man who seemed to live for nothing but to do her aunt’s bidding. He and the rest of her servants did no more than they had to for her and Livia, and when they did enter the cottage, they did so unannounced—to remind them, Rosaline thought, that this was not their home, that they were but guests reliant upon their aunt’s charity. She provided them little but a roof over their heads, leaving them to pay the rest of their expenses out of their meager income, but her household seemed determined they should not forget the paltry aid provided. Though he rarely spoke, Rosaline always thought she saw disapproval in his eyes when they rested on the duchess’s poor nieces—especially after Romeo began to hover at her door. The duchess was both mother to Lady Capulet and a Capulet relation herself by birth, and she had never feared to express her scorn for every man, woman, and child of House Montague. Her servant, Rosaline was sure, shared her overweening pride in House Capulet. No doubt he did not think much of two orphan girls from a minor branch of the family galumphing through their house like peasants.
    He bowed. “My ladies.”
    Rosaline nodded as she smoothed her skirt. “Good e’en, Lucullus. What’s thy business?”
    “Your uncle Lord Capulet would speak with you, Lady Rosaline,” he said.
    Rosaline frowned. She and Livia were not important enough to be much noticed by their uncle, the head of the Capulet clan. Since their parents died and their fortunes fell, she could count on one hand the number of times they had dined at the great Capulet house without other, grander members of the family. “What is mine uncle’s will?”
    Lucullus shrugged. “ ’Tis not mine to know. He’ll tell you himself when you see him this evening.”
    The streets of Verona were not exactly safe for a woman alone these days. She glanced out the window. The sun was already a mere sliver sinking into the western wall. It would be full dark before she arrived at her uncle’s house, even if she left now. “Tomorrow morning, perhaps,” she said, as politely as she could.
    Lucullus shook his head. “Your uncle has said he will see you forthwith. The duchess your great-aunt is at the house already. She sent me to accompany you, and she shall bring you home again when she is done attending to her daughter.”
    Rosaline frowned in annoyance. It was one thing for her grand relatives like the duchess and Lord Capulet to ignore her; it was quite another for them to order her back and forth like a page when it finally pleased them to notice her. She squashed the urge to stamp her foot and refuse to go. But she could at least escape Lucullus’s company. “No need, sirrah. I shall go alone.”
    “Are you sure, lady?” he asked.
    Rosaline felt Livia’s worried gaze on her. Perhaps going alone was not the most sensible decision she had ever made, but the prince’s men were patrolling the streets to prevent any trouble, and surely the journey was short