Excerpt from Fair Rosaline by Natasha Solomons, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

In a mask and wearing breeches, none would know her.

With eager fingers she unbuttoned her gown, discarding it on the floor. Keeping on her undershirt, she peered down at her bosom. There was nothing worth the trouble of binding. What little she had would lie snugly concealed beneath the jacket. She tugged this on, along with the hose, fastened the polished mother-­of-­pearl buttons, and was regretting the lack of hat to hide the long rope of black, treacherous girl's hair, coiled in knots at the nape of her neck, when Caterina walked in and yelped as if she had stubbed her toe.

"Did you think me Valentio?" asked Rosaline, pleased.

"No. You are far too pretty. Your face is too brown and you lack a beard."

Rosaline sagged. It seemed hopeless.

"And why would you wish to ape your brother?"

Rosaline shook her head and would not speak.

"Tell me, Rosaline. I am your friend and I have been since before you were weaned."

Rosaline hesitated. She did not like to reveal her intentions, less in fear of betrayal than the consequences for Caterina should she be discovered. And yet, as she glanced down at the dove-­gray breeches, she caught sight of her feet in their fancy rosebud slippers and, reaching up to touch her hair, realized she'd neglected to remove her maiden's veil, which still perched squatly upon her head.

Caterina gave a cry, understanding dawning. "Please, ladybird, you cannot think to go to that place alone! It's full of danger for any woman, but for a girl like you, a Capulet…unchaperoned and who knows less than nothing!" Her hands fluttered to her throat, frantic with dismay. "You're a child."

"I am not a child," said Rosaline. "I do not know what I am. I am never to be a woman. I am to be locked away to slowly wither, a peach unplucked, to rot upon the tree."

"The nuns in the convent are still women."

"Are they? They are married to God. Surrendering all will and desire and thought. I do not have the temperament to be His servant. I am neither meek nor obedient. I want too much."

Rosaline saw that Caterina could not deny this charge, merely repeating: "Don't go. It isn't safe."

"I shall go. The question is, will you help me or shall you tell my father?"


Later, as the two of them walked the unlit path through the fields to the Montague gardens, Signior Rosaline tried not to jump with fear at each rustle in the sycamore leaves or bark of a fox. The evening was as thick and warm as heated milk, cicadas chirruped and bullfrogs belched in the rank dikes at the fields' edges. Stumbling in her borrowed boots, Rosaline swatted at the mosquitos whining around her ears. Though sick with fright, excitement hummed through her. Her father may lock her away, but first she would live. And perhaps there was even the possibility of escape? Might she not yet worm out of fate's horrid grasp?

This hope was faint—­a firefly mistaken for a navigational star on a cloudy night—­and she squashed it down.

"This trick shan't work," Caterina muttered. "You'll be spanked and sent away at once, and I'll…" She did not finish, too frightened to speak aloud what would happen to her if Rosaline's ruse was found out.

Rosaline stopped, placing her hands upon the other woman's shoulders. "They will not know you helped me. That I swear. Still, you must return to the house. I shall be quite safe from here."

Caterina shook her head. "I will walk with you as far as the gates, imp that you are. You were the sweetest babe I ever tended, and the naughtiest."

"You mean, the sauciest boy."

"If you were a boy, you wouldn't be tripping over your own sword." Caterina smiled. "Come, let me adjust your belt. It dangles too low. And stand like this. With your hips and legs apart, just so."

Rosaline tried, one foot astride the soft pudding of a molehill, another balanced on the edge of a ditch.

Excerpted from Fair Rosaline by Natasha Solomons. Copyright © 2023 by Natasha Solomons. Excerpted by permission of Sourcebooks. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.