Page 23 of Just for a Taste

“No need to worry,” he spoke, softer and sweeter than I had known him capable of. “She won’t go any further. I’m astonished she was even willing to come out this far.”

Cupped in his hands, tilting her head toward me, was the aforementionedshe.The bird was smaller than a pigeon, with shiny white feathers, and a pale pink beak. Her cherry-wine eyes gazed up at me intently, and her wings twitched with my every movement. Despite this clear vigilance, her eyes closed as he pet the back of her head, and she cooed in delight.

“As I said, these birds are my treasures, but amongst them, Leonore is my gem.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “She’s beautiful.”

“Indeed.” He beamed with pride. “She’s a Barbary dove.”

I peered around the corner and looked into the darkness with a small frown. “Was she hiding from me?”

As I should have expected, Duca de’ Medici did not hesitate to answer, nor lighten the blow. “Yes, she was.”

Then, huffing with mild amusement at the guilt on my face, he added, “That isn’t a personal offense. As I said, I’m astonished she was willing to climb into my hand with another soul present. Leonore has been timid since her mate died a few years ago. It took me several months to gain the slightest bit of trust with her, and several more to be able to hold her.”

I leaned in a bit closer, slowly so as not to frighten the small creature. This proved unnecessary, as the small bird was far too enraptured with being stroked to notice me.

“She and Florestan were truly opposites. I’ve never seen anything quite like them. He was a nasty little thing, biting and attacking everything that came near. I presume nobody told him he was a species meant to represent peace. And yet, with her, he was gentle and sweet. She has always been quiet and shy, but with him, she was mischievous and playful. They worshiped each other and made each other exist. Doves mate for life, but widows rarely die unwed. Of course, I presented Leonore with several candidates after this.”

“Did she not like any of them?”

“All of the suitors I showed her were far brighter, larger, and healthier than Florestan, yet she had little interest. Perhaps animals cannot understand death, but I think her love for him is true, and she is waiting for him, nonetheless.”

Duca de’ Medici planted a small kiss along her wings, then lowered his hands slowly. As if on cue, Leonore fluttered away, leaving a single long feather in her stead. Duca de’ Medici plucked it from the air and held it between his thumb and forefinger. “Or perhaps,” he said, his tone strangely bitter as his eyes fell sharply onto mine. “Perhaps I am projecting something idealistic onto an animal, and perhaps you think I'm foolish.”

I hadn’t realized I was making a face. “I don’t think you’re foolish! But there’s no way of knowing how she feels, Duca de’ Medici. There’s a strange balance between trying not to anthropomorphize animals and denying them feelings. Your guess is as good as any other.”

“Is it now?” He chuckled darkly, playing with the feather. “What would your guess be, then?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, there’s no way of knowing what she feels.”

He scoffed. “That’s quite the noncommittal response. Tell me what you actually think.”

“I think it’s silly to assume animals can’t feel or love. But to equate love to waiting . . . no. That sort of entrapment is unreasonable. Moving on is more realistic, especially if that love wasn’t true.”

He gave me a sideways glance and smiled coolly. “Are we speaking of birds or people now, Signorina Bowling?”

My eyes widened. “Uh, birds. Both. Neither. I don’t know.”

The feather shone in the light as it fell from his fingers and slowly pirouetted to the ground. Duca de’ Medici faced me finally and gave me a small bow.

“Thank you for meeting her, signorina. She doesn’t see guests very often. Neither of us do.”

It took me a moment to register that I was being dismissed, albeit in a painfully courtly manner. It was hard not to laugh, and despite myself, I found it strangely endearing.

“Of course. Thank you for introducing us. I, uh, guess I’ll see you tonight for tea.”

“Yes, I’ve kept you far too long.” He returned to his former spot on a bench.

I lingered at the door. I had fully intended on simply saying goodbye, but curiosity brought out other words entirely.

“What do you think, then?” I asked, glancing at him over my shoulder. “About whether love requires the ability to wait?”

Duca de’ Medici leaned forward with his elbows on his legs, laced his fingers together, and propped his chin on them. Then, closing his eyes in thought, he asked, “True love, or something lesser?”

My clarification came quickly: “True love.”

Duca de’ Medici opened his eyes halfway and stared at me through pale lashes. When he spoke, his words were just as heavy and intense as the look in his eyes.

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