They stared at him silently for a long moment, and then one bolder than the others spoke up. “Why should we?” he demanded.
A slow, amused smile lit Robert Minton’s face. “Because,” he said, “I am the Earl of Lisle and your elder, and I outrank you. But most important, you audacious gamecock, because from the moment I met Mistress Pietro d’Angelo in Florence some months ago, I determined to make her mine. Are you foolish enough to believe you can come up against me, and win, Sir Edmund?”
The young man bowed in a half-polite, half-reluctant manner. “I give over, Lord Lisle,” he said, “and wish you good fortune with the lovely lady.”
Robert Minton returned the bow courteously and turned to the others. “And the rest of you?” he asked.
But they were already withdrawing down the small street. He returned to the shop past the two now-admiring guards at the door.
“So, from the moment you met me, you decided to make me yours,” Lucianna said. She didn’t know whether to be amused or offended. “You are a very bold man, Robert.”
“You knew it,” he answered quietly. “Do not demur. You are too intelligent a woman, Lucianna.”
“Aye, I knew it,” she told him. “The difficulty, however, is that I do not know if I mean to be any man’s. I will certainly be no plaything, my lord. And I do not believe my birth is enough for a man of your stature. So, for now, might you be content just to be my friend?”
“For now,” he agreed. “Remember that I spoke with your father, Lucianna. And yes, my ancestors hold a higher rank than did yours, but I will not allow our ancestors to dictate our fates. This age of Tudor is a new age. I don’t want a plaything. I want a wife.”
He was blunt, she thought. “I am not quite ready to re-wed, though your offer is gracious.”
“I have not offered yet,” he told her. “When I do, I shall get down on my knee and request your hand properly, Lucianna, as a gentleman should do. I simply want you to understand that I do not mean to take you as a mistress.”
She had the good grace to blush at his gentle rebuke. “I understand now,” she told him, then added wickedly, “You wish to prevent others from pressing their suits, respectable or not, until you have made up your mind about me. Is that correct, my lord?”
Instead of protesting her suggestion, he answered her wickedly. “Aye, my lady, that is just what I mean to do. You are clever to have divined it.”
“Oh, you are so difficult!” she told him, irritated.
He laughed at her. “I am merely giving you back what you have given me, Lucianna. If you mean to outwit me, you must do better.”
She wanted to shriek at such boldness, but instead she gave him a small smile. “Oh, I shall, my lord. You may trust that I shall.”
“Good!” he said, approving of her words. “If you didn’t, I should be disappointed,” the earl told her. “Will you allow me to escort you home?” he asked politely.
She hesitated, wanting to say no just to punish him, but instead she said, “Yes, you may.” Then she turned to her assistant. “Baram, please close up the shop for the day. It is already dark outside. See the guards have torches to light my bearers’ way. I believe the master of the cloth merchants will visit us on the morrow. Do we have enough wine?”
“Yes, mistress,” Baram answered. Then he hurried off to see to the torches so they might leave. He would report this little interlude between Lucianna and the earl to Yedda, who would be interested to know, if she did not already know.
“Is that why you came?” Lucianna asked the earl. “To escort me home this afternoon?”
“Yes, and so we might eat and talk together. I have been so busy at court with the king’s business, I have had no time to visit with you. I have missed you, Lucianna.”
“And I, you, to be honest,” she told him. “Other than my servants, and Baram, I have no one with whom to talk in the evenings. Sometimes I am lonely, but other times I am not.”
“I have the privilege of being considered a friend by the king’s mother, Lady Margaret,” he said. “She is curious to meet you, for I do not believe she has ever met anyone from Florence. And an independent woman who manages a commercial venture is very intriguing to her. Would you come with me one afternoon and meet her? Perhaps we will celebrate a small holiday with her, as December is almost upon us now,” he suggested.
“When I write to my mother that I have met the king of England’s mother, she will be beside herself with delight. She was not happy that I agreed to come to England,” Lucianna explained.
“Mistress, the bearers are ready,” Baram announced, having come to tell them. “Good night, then.”
“Good night,” they both told him, and went outside to where her litter awaited, along with Robert’s horse and the two guards. They set off through the darkening streets. Some shops were still lit, which brightened the streets until they reached the more residential area, and then Lucianna was doubly glad of her torches, for the streets were very dark, it seemed. She did not like coming home in darkness. She must remember to leave her shop earlier so they might travel in the light.
They had not spoken during their journey. It was better not to be distracted by a conversation. It was better to keep one’s thoughts on the journey itself. To Lucianna’s relief, they reached her house quickly tonight. It seemed her people were eager to escape any difficulties too.
Balia had been watching for them and flung open the front door as the earl dismounted and helped Lucianna from her litter chair.
“Good! Good! You are safely home. I worry when it gets dark so early, mistress.”
“I think I shall come early until the light begins to return,” Lucianna agreed.
“Baram sent a boy to say the earl would be with you and remaining for the meal,” Balia said. “The food is hot and ready, if you will go into the hall.”
“Make certain the earl’s horse is stabled and fed,” Lucianna said.
“It will be done. Sam isn’t about to allow a fine animal to remain in the streets,” Balia replied, but she hurried off to be certain it was being done.
They walked into the little hall of the house. The large fireplace blazed, and the small size of the room allowed it to feel warm. A tapestry hung on the wall behind the high board. There were two high-backed tapestried chairs on either side of the hearth. But other than the high board and its seating, there was little else in the hall. They sat as Balia had directed them, and immediately her servants brought in the food. They ate, for they were hungry. Lucianna had had no food since her morning meal, and men, she knew, were always hungry.
Alvina had cooked a fine capon stuffed with bread, celery, and onions. First, however, there was fish, bought fresh this morning from a fishmonger by the river that her cook favored. There was a small vessel filled with a rabbit stew with carrots and onions, along with fresh warm bread, butter, and cheese. It was far more than Lucianna usually saw on her table in the evenings when she was alone. She was surprised it was ready so quickly, but Alvina had a magic about her. She could do amazing things, Lucianna had discovered, in a very short time.
Robert Minton ate heartily with a good appetite. He did not speak, concentrating all his attention upon the food. It was obvious that he was very hungry.
“Do they not feed you at court?” she finally asked him when she had finished her own plate.
“Except at state dinners, courtiers eat when they can, especially if, like me, they have other duties. The king, his mother, and the queen often eat together. They are served by their courtiers, who are served by the servants, but courtiers do not eat. Unless you are invited to eat with the king or his family, you do not,” he explained. “I think I ate last night, but I don’t really remember.”
Lucianna was horrified. “That is awful!” she said. “You must come and eat more evening meals with me then, Robert.”
“I will come
when I can get away, and I thank you for your kind invitation, Lucianna.” He reached for the bread, butter, and cheese.
“Perhaps I should marry you right away,” she said. “Then we could go to your home where I might see you eat regular meals daily.”
He laughed. “So my well-being concerns you, does it?”
She considered his words and then said, “I suppose it does. I have been taught that the purpose of marriage is children, after all. If you are not strong enough to mount me, we will never have them. So you must be fed daily, and well.” She blushed at her own words.
Reaching out, the earl took her hand, which directed her to look into his face. “Lucianna, never fear I should be too weak to mount you,” he said, and the smouldering look in his eyes caused her blush to deepen. She tried to pull her hand away, but he would not let her go. He began to nibble upon each finger, his teeth gently grazing them.
The sudden intimacy between them was startling.
“If you are still hungry,” she half whispered, “I’m certain Alvina has made us a sweet. Bessie, her helper, is quite expert at sweets.”
“You are enough sweet for me,” he told her in a thick voice. He tightened his grip upon her hand, pulling her from her chair and into his lap. Releasing her hand, he kissed her, his mouth covering hers, and taking complete possession of it.
When Lucianna had a moment to breathe again, she could only say, “Oh my!” And then she felt his hand caressing her breasts through the heavy silk of her gown. “Robert!”
“I can’t not touch you, amore mia. You are simply too tempting.”
“But I’ve never before had my breasts touched,” she half whispered. “It is strange to me.”
“Your husband did not touch your breasts? How could he resist you, Lucianna? You are delicious,” the earl told her.
“The purpose of our marriage was not conjugal, but companionable,” she reminded him.
He considered her words carefully. “Are you telling me that even on your wedding night, there was no coming together?”
“Oh no! Alfredo had his own bedchamber, and I had mine,” and as she spoke, it suddenly dawned upon Lucianna what she was telling him in the most discreet, but direct way.
“You really are a virgin?” He said it softly, low. The implications of it were astounding. She had told him before, yet until this moment, he had not considered the true impact of it. If she was still a virgin, then no man had ever possessed her, and no man ever would but him, he determined.
“Yes.” She said it low.
“Sweetheart, sweetheart,” he groaned.
“It displeases you?” Why was he acting so oddly?
“Displeases me? Nay! How could such a thing displease any man? You have simply burnished your perfection with this unexpected gift. Nay, I am more than pleased to know you are untouched.”
“Why? You seemed to desire me before you knew it?” she said.
“I did, but it pleases my vanity to learn now that no man has ever had you, and no man ever will but me!” Then he was kissing her again, and Lucianna let herself be swept away by the passion of it until she realized they were still in the hall. She struggled from his embrace and his lap, jumping up and saying, “My lord! This is too public a place for such delights.”
His cock was swollen and tight against his garments. Propriety was the last thing on his mind right now, but when he looked up into her concerned little face, he had to laugh. Struggling to his feet he said, “You find my kisses delightful?”
Now she blushed even more deeply. “I did not say that!”
“You said the hall was too public a place for such delights. What else could you have meant?” he teased wickedly. “I find your kisses a delight as well, Lucianna.” His eyes were twinkling at her.
She was beginning to regain a hold of herself again. “I meant any intimacies between us should not be public for any to observe,” Lucianna told him.
“I agree,” he said. “So where shall we retreat to, sweetheart, for I admit I do not feel ready yet to stop kissing you.”
“You are . . .” she began, and he finished the sentence for her.
“So bold,” he said. “I know. It is the English way.” He grinned. “Are not Florentine gentlemen enamored of certain ladies eager to kiss them and cuddle them?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “My experience has not been great. An elderly husband who quickly kissed me on the lips once at our marriage, and never again touched his lips to mine. Females of my station do not kiss gentlemen at random. And certainly not if they are not married to them,” Lucianna explained. “That is what a man’s mistress is for, my lord. His pleasure. His wife is for giving him children, should he want children, and for keeping his house in order. Nothing more.”
“But she can also be for his pleasure and delight,” the earl told her, much to Lucianna’s surprise.
Then she recalled that her mother would occasionally spend the night in her father’s bedchamber, and in the morning they would both be smiling. But while she had seen her parents share a quick kiss now and again, she did not ever remember them in a passionate embrace publicly.
“Do the English treat their wives so formally, my lord?”
“Sometimes, and sometimes not,” he told her. “My wife will always know that she is loved, for I shall not hesitate to kiss her regularly in public and in private.”
“My lady, my lord.” Balia was suddenly by their side. “I think the earl must remain the night,” the serving woman said. “The weather has turned most foul outside. It is raining heavily, and the winds are fierce. It is not a night for riding within the city.”
The two women saw him consider, and then he said, “I will not despoil your reputation, Lucianna. If I remain and it becomes known . . .” He left it for her to decide.
“If the weather is that dreadful, then I would prefer you remain,” she said. “Remember that I am a widow. Whatever anyone else may believe or choose to think, it is not as bad as it would be if I were a maiden with my virginity to protect, my lord. Yes. Remain.”
“I’ll see a room is prepared for the earl,” Balia said.
“As far away from your mistress as possible,” the earl suggested.
“I will sleep upon the trundle in her room tonight,” Balia told him. “Unless, of course . . .”
But Lucianna quickly said, “No, that will be enough to preserve my reputation from any who would think otherwise, Balia.”
“Yes, my lady,” and Balia hurried off to direct Cleva and Welsa.
“You are generous, and I thank you,” he said. “At home, if I ride in a heavy rain, I can return home to a hot tub, warm clothes, and my bed. Here at court, I have not those luxuries and would sleep wet.”
“Court hardly sounds like the place for a simple lordling,” Lucianna observed.
“It isn’t,” he said. “Those few who are always by the king and queen have small accommodations where such things are available. If not, they sleep where they can find a place that is dry and warm. Some of the more important nobles attending the king have homes of their own in London, and travel with their own pavilions and servants. The rest of us do the best we can. I do not have a home in London.”
“You may stay in my house, my lord, whenever you are in the city,” Lucianna offered. “If the meal is over, you can always go to the kitchen, and Alvina or Bessie will feed you.”
He was astounded by the generous offer. “I do not believe your most proper mother would approve of such an arrangement,” he said.
Lucianna did not demur. “No,” she agreed, “she would not, but this is London, not Florence, and we are friends.”
“Ah,” he said with a smile, “you have decided we are friends?”
Lucianna smiled, unphased by him now. “Yes, I believe we are friends, my lord.”
“We are friends,�
� he agreed. “It is a good way for us to begin.”
Chapter 8
He was gone by the time Lucianna came down to go to her shop the next morning. He had obviously departed early, for the servants had not seen him go. She was touched that he had a care for her reputation. Without the gaggle of young men in the street, her shop was now open to the various cloth merchants in London. Several came each day to inspect the quality of the Florentine silks. She was even given some orders, which she dispatched to Florence via pigeon.
Her days fell into a regular pattern. November ended, and December passed. It had been a very lonely holiday season. She and Balia celebrated together, and Lucianna saw that each of her English servants was given a small gift including sweets and nuts, which were a real treat for them. They were at first surprised by her generosity, and then grateful for it. She told them when God had gifted them with his only son, it set an example for them to gift others on that feast day. She did not see Robert Minton until the middle of January.
When he finally came to her home one Sunday afternoon, he looked exhausted, and Lucianna could not help but comment upon it.
The king’s forte, it seemed, was finance, and Henry knew a rich king was a powerful king. He had spent little time with the court enjoying the Christmas season with his wife, infant son, and mother. Instead, he had closeted himself with Robert Minton to discuss new ways of raising revenue. Robert, it seemed, was his sounding board before he would bring his thoughts to the public.
“He has decided to manage everything himself, for he believes the Exchequer has been careless. They had little to do, as his treasury was empty when he became king, but he now checks his accounts daily, and then has a group of accountants double-check him. He will be raising taxes, expanding trade, whatever he must do to fill his treasury.”
“And so you sat and listened to him, advised him,” Lucianna said.
“I do little but agree,” the earl admitted. “He has been considering this for weeks now and knows what he means to do. But first he would say it aloud to me to see if I can offer any strong objection to his ideas before he tells the Lord Chancellor and others.
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