Free The Lion and the Rose by Kate Quinn Page A

into her private
sala
. A square, handsome woman of middle years, graying hair pressed into perfect ringlets, jeweled and capable hands hovering as usual over the slates and calculations of her household accounts. “Maestro Santini. And Carmelina. You are aware, of course, that the Duke of Gandia has returned from Spain. This has required a rearrangement of our resources here, now that he is establishing a household staff for his own
palazzo
 . . .”
    When we were released from the
sala
back downstairs, my cousin was no longer smiling. Nor did I think he’d be knocking on my door that night after everyone else had gone to bed.
    “You’re not being dismissed, you know,” I ventured. “Just reassigned within the family. Cook to the Duke of Gandia, that’s far more prestigious than cook for the Pope’s mistress and cousin!”
    “The Duke of Gandia won’t have any need of me for months, not when he’s leaving soon on this campaign of his against the French and the Orsini! And even when he’s at home, he doesn’t entertain. He goes out, and he takes his whole household with him!” Marco’s long legs ate up the stairs. “Whether he’s off campaigning or not, I’ll be left sitting about on my thumbs doing
nothing
!”
    I was tempted to point out that Marco had done a very good job of sitting about on his thumbs and doing nothing here. “I’m sure it’s just a temporary change—”
    He rounded on me in the same stairwell where he’d kissed me on the way up. “Someone told that tight-fisted bitch Adriana da Mila I was gone this afternoon! One hour off for a game of cards, just
one
, and she thinks I’m shirking!”
    “One hour?” I tried to keep my voice gentle. I owed my cousin a great deal, after all. “What about the
pallone
match two days ago, and the bear baiting last week? The dice games and the
zara
games and the
primiera
games?” All of which I’d covered for him . . .
    “You’re the one who told her! Don’t even deny it!” Marco’s voice rose, and I saw a pair of maidservants at the head of the stairs take a peek at us over their heaping laundry baskets. “Everything I’ve done for you—I took you in, and now this?”
    “I didn’t tell her anything. But really, Marco,” I couldn’t help adding, “what did you expect? The whole household knows you don’t bother putting in a full day’s work anymore!” I flapped the curious maids away with a wave of my hand, and lowered my voice. “How many times did I warn you to be more cautious? Probably one of the stewards dropped a word in her ear!”
    The kitchens had been running on my orders for months. Sheer, blind foolishness to think that someone as thrifty and sharp-eyed as Adriana da Mila wouldn’t eventually take notice.
    Of course, sheer blind foolishness was another gift of my cousin’s.
    “This is all your doing,” he said bitterly. “This is the thanks I get for taking you in—”
    I had to sit on my temper at that. Marco
had
taken me in, given me a place in the
palazzo
when I fled Venice and turned up on his doorstep begging for help. But his generosity hadn’t exactly gone unpaid, had it? My hands had worked in his kitchens for four years now, freeing him up for all those long afternoons of dice, and I’d covered for him every time!
    But that wasn’t the way to coax Marco into a better mood.
    “Come now.” I tried a cajoling smile. “Madonna Adriana only gave me your position because she can pay me less! She’s stingier than a vendor hawking secondhand clothes, you know that. And you’re getting a better position, really—”
    “That’s not the point! You still stole
my
position here!” He jabbed a furious finger at me. “I gave you a home, little cousin, I gave you a place in the world when no one else would have you, and you steal
my
position as
maestro di cucina
!”
    “
Maestra
,” I couldn’t help saying. I’d never heard of such a title before—I’d never heard of any woman taking such a