Then she understands. âYou are advising me to flirt this night!â
âAye, and heavily. Flirt with every lucky beau who falls within your line of vision. Dance with any boy who asks, and if the opportunity presents for you to be kissed, by all means, Juliet Capulet, get thyself kissed.â
I turn away from the glass and smile at her blush. She quickly attempts to conceal it behind her mask, which is similar to mine except that hers is bordered not with feathers but rows of large pearls.
âKisses are sins,â she states. âYou should know that, being as you are a fierce advocate of chastity! Did you not, this very morn, hotly denounce the state of love and all romantic actions associated with it?â
âTis my turn to blush. âAh. Well. As to that, I have recently undergone, as they say, a change of heart.â
âA change of heart?â
âOh, Jules, it happened just today. I have met someone!â
âMet someone?â Her mouth becomes a dainty O of wonder. âTell me!â
I fall back upon her pillows, feeling suddenly girlish and light. âHe is the most gallant, most brave, most handsome man in all of Verona.â
âAm I acquainted with him?â
ââTis very doubtful,â I admit, biting my lip. She understands at once.
âOh, Roz, another Montague? First Romeo, now ⦠what is this one called?â
I hesitate. âMercutio.â
âYou jest!â
âNay.
âMercutio!â Jules shakes her head.
âI am hoping he will come here tonight,â I confide, âso I may tell him of my feelings.â
âA Montague here? Now I have heard it all.â She sighs. âWell, at least you picked him for yourself.â She grins. âLike a fig. Forbidden fruit. Could that be the source of Mercutioâs allure?â
âIt could. But it is not.â I narrow my eyes. âWhat dost thou mean by saying I have picked him for myself?â
âI mean that you chose him.â Julietâs eyes turn serious. âI have learned tonight that Count Paris does request
my hand and that my lord and lady would have me accept.â
I open my mouth and stare at her.
Juliet grins. âCould it be I have finally found a way to render Rosaline speechless?â
âParis?â I gasp at last. âWishes to marry thee?â
âAye. As I told my lady mother, that certain sacrament has, until this day, been an honor I have dreamed not of.â She shrugs. âBut then what else would I do besides marry?â
I drop to the bed in a puff of blue brocade, nothing short of stunned.
âBut Paris? I did not even know you knew him!â
âI do not know him, other than by reputation,â she says in her sensible way. âBut âtis not as though the practice is uncommon. Girls are married off to strangers every day. At least I have clapped eyes on Paris.â
âYou have clapped eyes upon the village idiot, as well,â I remind her. âBut no one expects you to marry him!â
âParis is not an idiot,â she says evenly.
I scowl, crossing my arms across the bodice of the gown. âSo that is your measure for marrying a man?â I snap. âIf he is not classified as a halfwit, then he is husband material?â
âHe is a nobleman. Kin to the prince.â
âThat is his pedigree. What of his personality?â
âI suspect he has one.â
âAye, and it is very much lacking.â I shake my head at her. âA nunâs confession is less boring than Paris!â
Juliet looks only somewhat discouraged. âHe is handsome,â she states. âIn fact, Mother spoke at length of his beauteous looks.â
âLikely because that is all there is to speak of. Paris dazzles the eye, aye, until he opens his mouth! Marry him? Oh, Juliet. How could you?â
Juliet sighs. âHow could I not?â
There, of course, is the meat of