Chapter Seven

April 26, 1895
Norman House, East Veronaville

As a son of the Bourgeoisie, Romeo had never attended a gathering of the Elite, and therefore had not known exactly what to expect. Certainly, however, he would have never guessed that a party hosted by Goneril Norman, eldest daughter of Lord Consort Thebe, would have housed a sight like this.

It was Goneril’s younger, just visibly pregnant sister Regan, exchanging saliva with her husband on a couch right by the back door, kitchen, and dining room–where anyone could find them.

And they didn’t seem to care at all.

That is, if they even noticed that he was there in the first place. When their mouths parted, Cornwall Dane’s eyes fell only to the face of his wife, as if there was nothing and no one else in the room, the house, the world. Oh, what it must have been, to be so passionately loved! One day, Romeo hoped, a man would look upon him with such eyes, so full of admiration and insurmountable affection.

Oh… but maybe that was too much to hope for. Perhaps he was just being naive.

“Hey! I don’t imagine you were invited!”

It was Tybalt Gale, the older brother of Juliette–the very girl Romeo had come to seduce.

He moved with a distinct, cat-like grace that Romeo had never before seen in the gait of anyone else, a commanding air about him that brought to the room a rather stifling feeling, as if his lithe form had somehow taken up every last bit of space the area held. This was not his house, nor even his grandfather’s house–and yet, it was obvious that it was he who was in charge here. The very sight of him brought numerous emotions to the forefront of Romeo’s being–the most prominent of which could only be sheer awe.

“What are you doing here?” the young man hissed. His brows formed an eerily perfect v and the corners of his mouth were drawn to an unnatural frown, but there was something about his gray eyes that emitted a certain realness that Romeo would not have expected of him. “What gives you the right to come here as you please?”

Those eyes were proving to be quite the distraction–instead of finding an answer, he found himself quite lost.

At least, until Tybalt finally blinked.

“Oh, I didn’t mean any trouble,” Romeo told him hastily, struggling against the urge to make eye contact once more. “You see, I was only… uh, looking for Cornwall. You know how we had him, and then he escaped in January, right?”

Tybalt quickly glanced to the side, where Cornwall and Regan remained thoroughly engrossed in each other’s tonsils, surely oblivious to the presence of the two boys. “Well, you’ve found him. Now, leave.”

He really should have thought of an excuse beforehand, he realized now. “Yes, but… uh…”

“The hell?”

Tybalt’s young cousin, Hal Norman, had emerged from the dining room. “What’s going on here?”

“This Bourgeoisie scum got into the house,” snarled Tybalt savagely.

“Let him handle it–it’s his house,” muttered Romeo under his breath.

Hal scowled. “It’s not my house. I don’t want anything to do with this house–it’s not my fault I live here.”

Romeo blinked. Several times. “Uh… sorry?”

“Whatever, kid,” the older cousin sniffed. “Just do something about this intruder.”

“Look, I’m sure your parents won’t mind if–” Romeo began, but Hal cut him off with a quick kick to the shin. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“Don’t talk about to me about my parents!” Hal hissed dangerously. “Ever!”

What an incredibly touchy child!

“I’m sorry!” insisted Romeo yet again. “I don’t mean to be getting on your nerves like this, I just…”

He trailed off; he didn’t know what came after “just”.

Hal rolled his eyes. “Look, I don’t have a problem with you personally, but I don’t even want to think about what sort of hell-raising thing will happen if Albany and Goneril find you here. If you want my advice, just leave–save your own hide as well as mine.”

“All right,” answered Romeo with a nod, “but first, can I please see your cousin Juliette? Her ribbon fell out in the market the other day, and I happened to pick it up, but she was gone before I could give it back to her, so I came here to return it.”

He didn’t know where the story had suddenly come from, but he was thankful that it had finally arrived. If only he’d said that sooner!

“She’s in the yard with Hermia and my sister Desi, but be quick about it,” Hal warned him.

That was all Romeo needed to know.

“Thanks, Hal,” he acknowledged him as he turned and headed to the door. “Tybalt.”

He heard Hal make his way back into the dining room after a few seconds, but if Tybalt moved, he made not a single sound; Romeo could almost feel those gray eyes staring after him until he stepped outside and shut the door behind him.

Outside, he met those same eyes on a different face–two different faces, in fact.

Juliette was only thirteen, a fact for which Romeo was almost perversely grateful; she had not yet developed her large breasts and womanly curves, her body still quite skinny and boyish. Still, he wished he didn’t have to do this. She was still a little girl, and he was about to do something unforgivable–at least he could try to pardon himself in his own mind on the basis of her being Consort Thebe’s own granddaughter.

Still, perhaps he was being selfish. Was his reputation really worth wooing a young woman and breaking her little heart? Maybe he could just explain the situation to her, ask to borrow one of her garters to bring back as evidence…

No. The last thing he needed in his life was yet another lie.

He cast a sidelong glance at Juliette’s sister, Hermia. She was twelve, not too much younger than Juliette herself, with a square jaw and a thin upper lip. Had he been given any choice in the matter, he might have picked her instead–the only feminine thing about Hermia other than her red ringlets were her slender eyebrows. Still, that too was a vile thought.

Maybe he was just a horrible person. Why couldn’t his friends just accept him as he was? And why did he even care if they didn’t?

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted them at last. Whatever the reason… yes, he was a horrible person. He already knew he’d never forgive himself for this.

Hermia seemed less than impressed by his presence, but both Juliette and little Desdemona giggled. “Hello, Romeo,” Desdemona greeted him. “We were just talking about you.”

“It was very dull conversation,” groaned Hermia under her breath.

“Shut up!” Juliette hissed at her before looking up at Romeo and smiling. “What brings you here today, Romeo?”

He grimaced widely–if there was a point of no return, he was just about to pass it. “Why, this beautiful garden, of course… but I see that you put the very sight of it to shame, my fair rose.”

It was an awful line, but she was a thirteen-year-old girl; anything could floor her.

And unfortunately, her grin told him it would.

“Well, perhaps I shall give you a tour,” she offered, pulling herself to her feet and pushing her chair back into place. “Then, we shall see if you spoke too early.”

Romeo turned his head slightly, sickening himself with each second of this. “You will find, my love, that I never speak too early.”

“Just get him out of here, Juliette!” gagged Hermia, her eyes rolling so deeply that they might have spun right to the back of her head. “I don’t think I could stomach another word he says.”

I don’t think I can either, Hermia, Romeo silently agreed as he let himself be led from the patio and onto the lawn.

“There are the flowers,” Juliette told him as they looked toward a series of triangular beds whose vertices met near the center to form a simple, but sufficiently artistic design. “They’re rather boring. The hedge maze is much more interesting… and much more private,” she added with a wink.

As soon as her back was turned, her took a moment to shudder. Then, swallowing, he followed her into the labyrinth.

Maybe he could fake an allergy. Or maybe he could just lag behind and find himself conveniently lost. There had to be some way to get out of this, surely…

But then Jihoon’s ugly, mocking mug flashed in front of his eyes; his own maze was one from which he could not escape.

“Well,” declared Juliette at last, “this is the center. We’re all alone now.”

At the very least, it seemed she was willing; perhaps that was the one thing that would spare him a tiny fragment of his guilt.

“Finally,” he added, prompting her musical giggle. Really, she seemed like a nice enough girl, and nothing too awful to look at; if he’d ever found women at all attractive, he might have liked her.

Her eyes were just like her brother’s, only filled with some girlhood mockery of Cornwall’s as he gazed at his Regan. It seemed Mercutio was right; she did like him. He was only glad she didn’t love him.

Still, he liked the way those eyes fell upon him. He only wished they could be attached to someone else.

It was a darn shame. The way Mercutio talked about her, she sounded like the sort of person Romeo would have enjoyed as a friend–fat chance of that happening now.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a long time,” he voiced the half-truth, making sure to sound convincingly romantic.

Much to his surprise, however, Juliette shook her head. “Let’s just skip the talking, shall we?”

Romeo raised an eyebrow. “Sorry…?”

With a melodic laugh, she kissed him, bold as any man. For a thirteen-year-old, she wasn’t bad–if only her lips hadn’t been so unnervingly full!

“Thinking of anyone?” she whispered as they parted, hints of her brother looming about the gray eyes that they shared.

“You,” lied Romeo. “Always you.”

What she did next, he could not have predicted–however, it did work in his favor. Frantically, she stripped herself down to her corset, her undergarments, her bare skin, tossing her discarded clothing into a nearby patch of rosebushes. He hadn’t expected that things would progress so quickly; perhaps she was not as innocent as he had been led to believe.

“Well?” she inquired teasingly as she looked him up and down. “Are you going to catch up on your own, or do you need a little help?”

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