I made a turn of my own, seeing my black skirts flare and seeing the eyes of men flare too as they looked on me. Of course. I was a prize now. Foolish of me not to have considered it sooner, in my frozen state after Orsino’s death. I was a prize, and Laura was an even bigger one—and my brother looked at me with immense sympathy as he saw me realizing it. “When did you turn so cynical and wise, Alessandro Farnese?” I managed to ask.

“When I accepted a cardinalate from the Borgia Pope, Giulia. It’s deep water I’ve learned to swim in, and there are serpents under every ripple.”

I’d persuaded him to take the red hat, when Rodrigo offered it. I should have left well enough alone; should have let my big brother scamper on through life as a notary. Should have let him stay a scamp and a jokester, instead of this handsome, serious churchman who spoke so knowledgeably of serpents and dangerous waters.

“‘Serpents under every ripple,’” Sandro mused, perhaps turning his voice back to its old airy amusement because he saw the look on my face. “Do you like that, sorellina? Perhaps I have a gift for rhyme. Everyone agrees I don’t have any gift for church business.”

“Oh, Sandro—”

“Now, Giulia, don’t look so stricken.” Sandro put his palm against mine again for a final turn. “I’ll manage, and so will you. Just think about it, eh? What I said about marrying again.”

“Yes,” I answered, and a dozen men clamored for my hand before the dance’s last notes finished. I looked over the sea of eager faces, and I took the hand of Vittorio Capece, my erstwhile host who had hardly been able to look me in the face after what had happened to Orsino in his palazzo. “You really must stop avoiding me, Vittorio. How often must I tell you nothing was your fault?”

“Good of you to say so.” He gave me his kindly smile as we moved into the next dance. A livelier tune than the grave passes I’d trod with my brother, but Vittorio was as light on his feet as a young man, and he turned me capably about the waist. “You’re looking very grave, m’dear. Thinking of Orsino?”

“In a way.” I inspected the lord of Bozzuto as he spun me. “Tell me, Vittorio, have you ever thought of marriage?”

“Yes, dreadful prospect.” Vittorio shuddered. “I’ve staved it off gallantly, but it may prove inevitable.”

“Inevitable?” We checked, reversed, joined hands again.