She would have preferred a scolding over her stolen night out in the city to this piece of news. Of course, Serafina had fully anticipated that she would be married at some point in the future. She would be twenty-one in a few months, and many of her friends were already either wed or betrothed.
An integral part of the way Rome’s elite maintained their grip on power was through arranged marriages. The senior families of the Papal States were determined to keep political clout and wealth within their tightly knit community. Love rarely came into the equation.
“And who shall be my husband?” asked Serafina.
She swallowed deeply, bracing herself to hear the identity of the man to whom she would be bound for the rest of her life. The man who would be her husband.
“That is yet to be decided. I am presently conducting negotiations with several gentlemen. You may well be a middle child, but you still hold value to the de Luca family. A politically advantageous union will serve us well.”
Her mother gave Serafina’s hand a light pat. It was the extent of her motherly affection. “You need a husband who can give the family their vote during political negotiations. Someone your father and uncle can count upon to support our position.”
She may have been young and unwed, but Serafina knew enough about Roman politics to understand that her future spouse would not be some bright-eyed young man. Marriage was wasted on boys. Only older men, experienced political creatures, could deliver the sort of influence Enzo de Luca and his brother the Duke of Lazio required.
Her hopes lay in the unions of her older sisters. The spouses of the other de Luca girls were no more than ten years older than their wives. Ten years wasn’t too large an age gap. She could cope with being married to a man of thirty.
Thirty-five at a stretch.
Her mother turned to Serafina. “I would think you have perhaps a month to prepare yourself for becoming a wife. That is not a long time, and in the week or so before the wedding you and I will be busy with preparations. With that in mind, I would suggest you take the opportunity over the next little while to enjoy your last days of being an unwed young lady. Once you are married, you will have much to do. Childish pursuits will be a thing of the past when you have a husband and a household to manage.”
“Yes, take the time to continue to show Lady Augusta Kembal around Rome. I expect once you are married, she and the duchess will sail for England,” said Enzo.
“We can only hope,” muttered Donna Francesca.
The Duchess of Mowbray and her daughter had arrived at Palazzo Lazio in early September and had originally been due to leave no later than the end of October. It was now late March, and the English noblewomen weren’t showing any signs of booking their passage home.
“I shall use the time I have at my disposal wisely,” replied Serafina, ignoring her mother’s snide comment.
If Enzo was in discussions about a possible marriage for his daughter, he must have one or two potential bridegrooms in consideration. Men whom she could make private enquiries about. Whose reputations she could understand before meeting them.
I need to know all I can about the man I am going to marry before we are wed.
“Is there a particular candidate for my husband whom you favor, Papa?” she asked.
When Enzo cleared his throat, Francesca’s hold on Serafina’s hand tightened. “The man who I think will bring the most advantageous marriage to this family is Giovanni Magri.”
Serafina’s mother let out a small gasp and her grip turned painful. She immediately tried to cover it with a feigned cough, but her anguish was unmistakable.
He didn’t tell Donna Francesca until this minute. Why would he keep it from her?
Giovanni Magri. Serafina had never heard of him. But if her mother’s reaction was anything to go by, he wasn’t the sort of man Francesca would have chosen for her daughter.
What is wrong with Giovanni Magri? Donna Francesca never loses her composure.
The withering glare Enzo shot his wife had Serafina blinking back tears. Her parents were clearly not in agreement on the choice of their daughter’s future husband.
Having received this thunderbolt of news, Serafina wanted nothing more than to leave. The sooner she could get out of this room, the quicker she could set to the task of finding out all she could about Signore Magri. Her heart was thumping hard in her chest. What would she do if she discovered that he was old and ugly? Worse, if he had a reputation for being cruel?
I need to find out who else is on the list of potential husbands. If my mother is having concerns about Giovanni Magri, so should I. Who knows, there may be someone else I would be better suited to marrying. I can only try.
Enzo pushed off the table and stood. “I think that is all Serafina needs to know at present. You are both dismissed.”
She waited until her mother had risen, then got to her feet. With a respectful curtsy to both her parents, Serafina headed for the door. It was no surprise when her mother didn’t follow.
The second the door closed, the sound of raised voices came from within her father’s office. She hastened her steps. By the time the first blast of Enzo’s anger reached her ears, Serafina was at a full run.
ChapterTwelve
Serafina quietly answered the knock at her door a short while later. In the hallway stood Lady Augusta Kembal, or G, as she liked to be called by her friends.
