Two hours later, after dinner, Christopher and Katerina—along with the elder Bennetts, Colin and his mother and stepfather, James Cary and his very new bride Eliza—proceeded to games, beginning with a rousing round of charades.

The Carys won handily, earning them the right to choose the next game.

“Let's play hide and seek,” Eliza proposed. “The birthday girl should be it.”

“Very well,” Katerina agreed, feigning disappointment.

“I think I'll sit this one out,” Julia said, subsiding onto a chase with a cup of

tea. Her husband joined her, as did the Turners.

Katerina covered her eyes and began counting to one hundred. Fabric

swished as her guests hurried out of the room. I'm… having fun, she realized as she worked her way through the sixties. It would have seemed impossible six months ago.

She flashed the elders a quick smile before heading out of the parlor to search for her guests. Perhaps I can find my husband first, in some dark corner

where I can let him steal a kiss before I continue stalking our friends. It felt wonderful to be able to relax and be ridiculous.

With that thought in mind, she entered the front hallway, where a wide

staircase in dark wood with a scarlet runner led to the second floor. I'll begin here.

“Katerina.” A commanding voice spoke in a lilting Italian accent.

She froze like a small prey animal, poised between one step and the next. No,

I won't cower. I am not a rabbit. I am a woman and a wife, surrounded byfriends. No one can hurt me now. With slow deliberation, she straightened her spine and turned. “Father,” she replied coolly in Italian, “what are you doing here?”

“Obviously, there was some mistake,” he drawled, gesturing with his hands.

“I heard you were having a party, but my invitation didn't arrive.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “There was no mistake. You were not invited. I do

not want you here.”

“I am your father, Katerina. That will never change,” he said darkly.

“More's the pity,” she replied, sarcasm dripping from her tone, “but no matter. I don't need a father.”

Giovanni narrowed his eyes into a disapproving glare.

Katerina's stomach clenched, and her heart began to pound, but she refused

to back down. She met his stern look with one of her own.

He pressed harder, trying to gain the upper hand. “I can't believe you ran away with that… cotton weaver. Have you no pride, girl?”

She snorted with derisive laughter. “I can't believe you would be surprised I

did. Honestly, Father, I would have run away with a Gypsy if one had appeared

at the right moment. How fortunate I was to find Christopher. He's very good to

me, though I doubt you're concerned with that.” Her hand fluttered around her belly in a telling though unconscious gesture.

He noticed. “Are you incinta? Already? What a whore. You're just like your

mother.”

She shook her head. “No, Father. Not a whore, a wife. It's my duty to provide

children for my husband.” Then she shook her head. “Do you know something?

I don't wish to talk to you anymore. This is not your home and you were not invited. Get out.” She dismissed him with a flamboyant hand gesture.

“Puttana,” he yelled.

“Bastardo!” Katerina shot back.

There was no worse thing she could have said to her father. Sensitive to the

fact that he was descended from an illegitimate line—royal though it might be—

any question to his legitimacy made him wild. If she had slapped his face, it would have been equally effective.

Turning, she stalked up the stairs away from him, confident she was finally

safe from him.

She was wrong.

With a cry of rage, Giovanni leaped into the room pounded up the stairs.

Out of the habit of protecting herself, Katerina took too long to react to the

sudden movement, giving him time to grab the heavy coil of hair at the back of

her head and pull hard.

She shrieked as she fell, thudding down three steps and landing on the

wooden floor of the entryway. Her head slammed down hard. A crunching noise