The Angel of Soriano: A Renaissance Romance by Stella Marie Alden

I will sit and dine now, with your leave.”
    Lucella hissed at him when he sat, “I will tell Papa and he will have me sent home immediately.”
    “I could only dream of such an outcome,” Bernardo said dryly. His pleasant smile faded as he picked up the latest three-pronged invention from the south. He used it to artfully stab at a piece of highly spiced lamb.
    Daggers shot across the table from his stepmother’s angry eyes and his father tried his best not to be amused.
    Lucella’s grandmother, Lady Joanna Santamaria, sat across the table, and glared. Frown lines, permanently etched into her mouth, deepened.
    Face skewed, Lucella began to whine anew in a manner he no longer had any patience for. Lighting fast, he reached a bare hand into a bowl of pasta and stuffed a great wad into her mouth’s gaping hole. She coughed, choked, and spit it out.
    Her grandmother stood, red with rage. “Inexcusable.”
    “Enough!” Bernardo stood and jabbed his fork into the table with a force so hard that stemmed chalices toppled, crashing to the marble floor.
    All conversation stopped in the room and heads turned to the main table. Careful not to harm her, he pulled Lucella to her feet, and stood her high upon her chair.
    “If you are to become my wife, young lady, you will not whine. You will not screech. You will not cause my family or anyone in the vicinity, discomfort. Do I make myself clear?”
    Bernardo suddenly realized that this may’ve been the first time in Lucella’s young life that any had ever challenged her behavior.
    The look of shock wore off, her blond brows furrowed, and she screamed, “My Papa will have you executed for this.”
    Across the table, his stepmother almost fainted. Bernardo’s father, looking all the part of the steward of Soriano, rose slowly. He may have aged since his last victories in Spain, but he was still a large and imposing figure. The hall was so full of tension that even the dogs sat motionless and watched. The deafening silence broke when a pigeon fluttered and cooed in the rafters.
    Dideco Carvajal glared at Lucella. Without taking his eyes off from her, he rounded the table, picked her up by the waist and put her down upon the floor. Then he said to her grandmother, “She does not return to a meal or out of her room until she’s learned some grace. No one is to feed her until I say so.”
    Bernardo had never felt more fondness for his father. That is, until his wrath turned upon him. “You goad her too much, son. It must stop now or I will ban you as well. Do you understand? Certainly, for the few hours you must endure your intended, you can do it with the honor of a Carvajal.”
    A performance worthy of any great minstrel in Florence, Bernardo bowed low to the table and then to the rest of the room. “My apologies father, to you, to the family Santamaria, and to you Signore Pierpaolo.”
    His father winked, hidden from all, before sitting back down.
    It was high time someone chastised the brat-child. Perhaps she’d grow into a lovely young woman. If not, he doubted he’d ever be able to make a legitimate heir. She’s still young. I could die in battle before the inevitable nightmare comes to pass.
    Table cleared of unpleasantness, his appetite increased a little and so he focused on the Earl of Vignanello. When the man’s gaze lifted to his, Bernardo asked, “How goes it with the fair Aurelia?”
    Pierpaolo’s face darkened and his voice went to a whisper, “What have you done with her?”
    “Scusami?” Bernardo’s heart raced, his stomach wrenched, and he swallowed down bile rising in his throat.
    “Don’t act innocent. She went missing this morning. When I prove you have her, I’ll demand satisfaction.” He stood, hand on sword.
    Bernardo kept seated, not needing another scene at this meal nor more of his father’s wrath. “I assure you, Signore, I’ve done nothing such as what you accuse me of. I would gladly add a few of Soriano’s men to help you search