They strolled now along a graveled path on either side of which there were lime trees. There were beds of roses here and there. The roses were so naturally fragrant that they perfumed the air about them. Robert Minton didn’t believe he had ever been in such a romantic place in his life. They came to a marble bench, and he drew her down onto it with him. Birds in the trees about them sang.
“This has to be a dream,” he said, “and if it is, may I never awaken.”
Lucianna laughed softly. “I do not believe anyone has ever said such lovely words about the Pietro d’Angelos’ little park, my lord.”
“It’s exquisite! So much so that it could not possibly be re-created anywhere else.”
“If you sat here in winter with a cold rain beating down upon your broad shoulders, my lord, you might consider otherwise,” she told him. “Ah, do not look up, but here come my mother and my father, enjoying the beauty of their creation, no doubt,” Lucianna said.
Robert Minton, Earl of Lisle, burst out laughing. “You are really a most outrageous girl,” he said.
“I am a woman, my lord. A beautiful widow woman,” she said.
“No, signora, you are a girl, not yet a woman, and your blush reveals the truth of my observations. Do not deny it.”
“Ah, Lucianna, my lord of Lisle,” Orianna Pietro d’Angelo purred in greeting.
“Daughter. My lord,” Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo said to each.
“Mother, how lovely to see you. Roberto invited me for a walk in the park after Mass, but then he admitted to knowing no park. I told him I knew the loveliest park in all of Florence, and so here we are!”
“I was told you arrived at Mass together, Lucianna,” Orianna said, disapprovingly. “And that you were dressed inappropriately.”
“I was most certainly not in Roberto’s company when we arrived, Mother! I came quite alone. How dreadful of someone to spread such a rumor. I am outraged. Am I to have no life of my own? My mourning is over for Alfredo. Believe me, every fortune hunter in Florence will be approaching me. Will there be unseemly gossip about them too? As for my gown, do you find it unseemly?”
Orianna looked at her daughter’s modest sky blue garment and shook her head. “No, I do not,” she admitted. Then she said, “Will you and the earl join us for dinner?”
“It would be a pleasure, Signora Pietro d’Angelo,” Robert Minton quickly spoke up. “I am honored that you would invite a stranger into your home for a meal.” He stood now and bowed to both of Lucianna’s parents in a show of respect.
“Oh,” Orianna trilled girlishly, “it is really our honor, my lord.”
“We shall not argue about it, my dear signora,” the earl said with a smile.
Lucianna stood up. “Then come, and let us all add to the gossip by walking together to the palazzo,” she said, trying not to show her irritation. What on earth did her mother expect to accomplish with this invitation? Now that Lucianna had fulfilled her obligation to her late husband, she wanted a private life, and that did not include having dinner with her parents and the earl. Well, perhaps with the earl.
Chapter 3
Robert Minton enjoyed his time with the Pietro d’Angelos. Once inside their beautiful palazzo gardens drinking wine, he found himself quite relaxed. He could not say the same for Lucianna, who, he realized, was waiting for her mother to begin some sort of interrogation, but oddly, Orianna asked little. He found Lucianna’s younger sister, Serena, amusing and filled with gossip that she obviously quite relished. His host invited him to view a painting of his entire family.
“It was painted many years ago before they were all scattered,” he said, almost wistfully. Then he lowered his voice. “Orianna will not have it displayed in a prominent place any longer because of Bianca’s behavior. So I keep it in my library, where she seldom comes,” Giovanni explained as he opened the door to the room, ushering the earl inside. “I enjoy gazing upon my seven children in happier times.” Then he pointed to a paneled wall.
The earl walked closer to view the painting. It was a charming family portrait, and it was obvious they were all very happy. “Bianca is the dark-haired girl?”
“Yes. She was fourteen. Marco, fifteen. It was just before I was forced to give her in marriage to an unsuitable man. I will not say he was a gentleman, for he was not. Lucianna will tell you the story. The boy with the sweet smile is our Giorgio; he was eleven. Francesca, the one with the proud look, was nine; Lucianna and her twin brother, six; and our youngest, Serena, four.” He chuckled. “The boys didn’t care, of course, but the girls, even the smallest, were so proud of having their portrait painted.”
“It is a fine family, Signore Pietro d’Angelo,” the earl said, complimenting his host. “I am particularly charmed to see Signora Lucianna at such a young and vulnerable age.”
“Giovanni,” the silk merchant said. “I think perhaps we shall be more than just friends one day, Roberto. Besides, you are now considered a valued client of my establishment.” The older man smiled. “No explanations are required at this time, Roberto. We shall let life lead us where it will.”
“I would, nonetheless, like your permission to court Lucianna, Giovanni. You should know my attentions to your daughter are honorable.”
“Lucianna is a widow, and she will make her own decisions, Roberto. I can no longer claim any influence over her, although Orianna would argue with me in that respect.” He chuckled. “I am grateful for your confidence. It would be my suggestion, however, that nothing be said at this time to my wife. She will begin having a trousseau sewn for Lucianna before the fact. And if you take Lucianna to wife, my lord, I question if she would want to live in England. Of my four daughters, she is the one who loves the city best.”
“Then I must see that she learn to love England as well,” the earl said. “Your guild does not have a representative in London, do they? The Milanese are planning to send one in order to spare their cloth merchants having to wait for English custom, and to make it more convenient for our merchants. If you do not send a representative to London too, the Milanese will take all your trade, thus ruining the Florentine silk merchants.”
“I was not yet aware of this,” Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo said. “I must call a meeting of my guild and present this to them. If Milan sends a representative to London, then so must Florence. No one will want to go, of course, and leave their businesses to their sons alone.”
“Send Lucianna to represent Florence. She knows your business well. Certainly better than your heir does. Your fellow tradesmen know and like your daughter. I would even go so far as to say they trust her. Milan will send some stuffy fellow who will have difficulty dealing with our merchants. Florence’s representative will be a beautiful woman who speaks our language with an absolutely delightful accent, and she will charm her way among our merchants.”
“There will be some among my guild who will be difficult to convince that sending a woman is the right thing to do,” Giovanni said.
“Convince them that it is. Remind them that the English king sent his representative to purchase silks for his queen in Florence, and it was your daughter who sold him a large order, though that is not quite true. The Pietro d’Angelos therefore have a small amount of influence with the English now, which means that silk merchants of Florence do too. They should not deny that prestige, Giovanni.”
“All of this to gain my daughter’s company in England?” The silk merchant laughed, unable to help himself. “You are a very clever man, Roberto, but your idea actually has merit.” Then he sighed. “I shall have to go back to my shop full-time if I let Lucianna go to England. My son is well meaning, but a dunce where his mistress is concerned. A more scheming baggage I have never known, but Marco is enamored of her. It is to be hoped she will eventually find a wealthier protector, and then Marco will be sent packing, but until that time, he has not the wit or the will to concentrate on the business.”
There was a knock upon the door, and a servant called, “The mistress bids you and the English lord to table, signore.”
“We had best go, lest we incur Orianna’s displeasure,” the silk merchant said with a small smile.
The two men hurried to the dining room and took their places. A priest at the table offered a blessing, and everyone sat. The meal was well cooked and delicious. The wines served were quite good, and the earl complimented his hostess.
Orianna smiled, quite pleased. When the last of the goblets had been cleared from the table, Lucianna announced that they must be going. “It is not yet dark,” her mother said. “Remain a bit longer.”
“No, Mother,” her third daughter replied. “You have been very gracious to us, but it is time to leave.” She stood up, looking to the earl.
He could see desperation in her eyes. “Indeed, we must go, signora,” he agreed with Lucianna. “Your hospitality has been most pleasant, but even I am wise enough not to walk your streets in the dark. I often wonder why the streets of cities become so dangerous after the sun has set.” He took Orianna’s elegant hand and kissed it, bowing.
“I believe Roberto is wise, my dear, and careful of our daughter, which I know you appreciate,” Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo said in smooth and placating tones to his wife. He knew the game she was playing well. Having fed her guest, and filled him with wine, she was now ready to pounce. Lucianna knew this game too, which was why she was so intent on hurrying the earl from her parents’ palazzo.
Orianna sighed dramatically. “Very well,” she conceded, “if you think you must go, then you must. I hope you will come again, my lord.” And then she smiled her most charming smile at him.
“I would be honored,” Robert Minton said, bowing again. Then he turned, taking Lucianna’s arm politely, and they departed the Pietro d’Angelos’ palazzo, walking quickly to regain the little green park.
“Thank heavens!” Lucianna smiled. “I freed you before she was able to begin her interrogation. She will be most annoyed with me for it, I fear. She doesn’t know half about you that she wants to know.”
He chuckled. “I could see how stressed you were in her presence,” he noted. “Your mother is a most formidable woman.” He chuckled again.
“And always has been,” Lucianna told him. “Francesca drove her half mad with her determination to have her own way. She is much like our mother. My sister has now become the noble widow, guarding her son like a tigress and ruling Terreno Boscoso in his name. She will not take another husband, and her council is in firm agreement with her, which has our mother stymied, for she would see Francesca re-wed but cannot stand against the royal council of Terreno Boscoso.”
“So she will now concentrate upon her other widowed daughter,” he said, smiling.
“Yes, Santa Anna, help me,” Lucianna admitted with a small smile. “I wish there were a way I could escape her.”
He said nothing about his conversation with her father. She wished to avoid Orianna’s machinations, but she had said nothing of leaving her beloved Florence. If the silk merchants of Florence could be persuaded to send a representative to London, and she was their chosen one, then her mother might protest, but she could not stop her daughter, for while he knew Lucianna would protest such an assignment, he also knew she would go.
“Come,” she said to him. “We will walk along the river for a brief distance. The day is fair.”
“May I interrogate you as your mother would have done to me?” he asked her.
“I will not guarantee to answer all your questions, my lord,” she told him with a little smile.
“You wed to please your family,” he said. It was not a query.
“I did. The economy had made it impossible to have the sort of enormous dower that my two older sisters had. Both Bianca’s and Francesca’s behaviors had made many families wary of seeking my hand. Would I be like my sisters? Independent and determined to have my own way? Alfredo wanted a wife who would take care of him in his old age. He made no secret of it, and he decided a young pretty one would give him more pleasure than a cranky older woman.”
She laughed. “It was so like him to be direct. He asked my parents for me. They were thoughtful enough to ask me. We met several times, and frankly, I liked him. He was quite forthright with me. He was too old to enjoy conjugal relations, and we would not have them. He wanted to know if I could accept it, and I agreed I could. So we were wed. He was kind to me and generous. I was not unhappy with him.”
“You do not want passion with a man?” he asked her, curious.
“I did not want it or believe it possible with a man past eighty,” she told him. “I have been sheltered by my family, as all respectable women are. I have never been in love, but if I were, I should want children with my husband,” she told him.
“I am relieved to hear it,” he responded. She was a virgin, even as he had already suspected. Untouched. “You want love in your marriage? Most marriages are arranged for the best interests of the families involved, Lucianna.”
“I know,” she admitted, “but Bianca loved her prince enough to give up her family. As for Francesca, she insulted every suitor who sought her hand, and when the heir to Terreno Boscoso chose her for his bride, she ran away, and had to be brought back. Of course, the little fool was quite happy with him, and then he was murdered by a servant. They say her wrath was ferocious. She now rules her duchy for her little son. She might remarry, but will not, and her council backs her, much to our mother’s irritation. With two such sisters, and a small dower, I was not eagerly sought after. I was happy to marry Alfredo. It took me away from my mother’s house, and my husband and I were good to each other. He often called me his angel, but I called him my knight for rescuing me.”
The earl smiled. “Your late husband, God assoil his good soul, sounds like a fine man,” he said to her.
“He was. He left Norberto only his shop, and a small amount of gold. He left me his house, and a great deal of gold,” Lucianna said.
“And now your mourning is over, and you will be besieged for your hand,” he said. “Will it please you?”
“Not particularly,” she replied. “I shall have to waste my time chasing off fortune hunters who will all believe I am just being coy by sending them off. One thing Alfredo told me before he died: I was not to wed again unless I was madly in love. ‘Let none but a man you trust have charge over you,’ he said. I agree, and I shall follow Alfredo’s most excellent advice,” Lucianna said.
“I asked your father this afternoon if I might court you,” he told her, much to her surprise. “He said that must be your decision, although your mother would disagree if she knew. We thought it best to say nothing to her. Will you let me court you, Lucianna?”
She was actually very surprised by his candor. “I would prefer it better if we might just begin as friends,” she told him. “I am not ready to think seriously of marriage yet.”
“I understand. You like the freedom being a widow has given you,” he observed.
Lucianna laughed. “I do not know if I quite like it yet that you understand me so well,” she said, and though she made light of it with him, it did disturb her. “Besides, how can you court me? You must return to England very soon.”
“I can come back,” he answered. “I can write you wonderful long letters while I am gone. And while I am not here, you can entertain all those gentlemen fascinated by your beauty, and more enchanted by your fortune.”
“Does my fortune not interest you, my lord?”
“I have my own fortune. Any fortune you possess would remain yours as my wife,” he told her. “I am delighted by your beauty, but more so by your intellect and charm. A woman needs more than skill in bedsport to be my wife, although I realize that will not necessarily be so with other men.”
“You are not at all like Florentine men,” she observed. “It is bo
th intriguing and frightening, my lord.”
He stopped in their stroll, and taking her shoulders between his two hands, looked boldly down into her face. “Be intrigued, Lucianna, but never be afraid of me. I have never before been so charmed by a lady as I am by you.”
“Nor has any gentleman been so direct with me but my husband,” she responded. Then she said, “It is getting late, and the light will soon begin to fade, my lord. I think it best you escort me home now.”
“I agree,” he told her, and together they departed the path along the river Arno so he might bring her to her house. They did not speak again as they walked, but once at her door he said, “I will see you on the morrow at San Piero, Lucianna, if you will permit.”
She nodded, saying only, “Yes.” Then she entered her house, closing the door behind her.
Balia hurried down the stairs upon hearing her enter. “Gracious, mistress, where were you so long?”
“The Englishman and I decided to walk in a park. I chose the one my family built, for I knew someone would have already hurried to fill my mother’s ear with the knowledge I was with Roberto. It was easier in his presence to answer the few questions she was able to ask. She insisted we have our meal with them. Afterwards he and I walked along the Arno.”
The Englishman likes you,” Balia said.
“So he has said to me. Come with me on the morrow to Mass so we may stem the worst of the gossip,” Lucianna said.
“You should have taken me this morning,” Balia scolded.
“I did not wish to walk in the park with you,” Lucianna said with a small smile, and Balia laughed.
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