Lucianna by Bertrice Small Read Free Book Online Page B

said. “I think that pretty rose gown will do nicely this morning.”
    “Nay, something a little bit more subdued. I don’t want to appear to be celebrating the end of my mourning. I could see several women were shocked yesterday by my sudden change into color again. Perhaps the dark green with the fine lace,” Lucianna suggested.
    “The old crows would like you to keep to black for the rest of your life,” Balia muttered.
    “And keep myself hidden in the bookshop.” Lucianna chuckled. “I know, Balia, I know. While I have always been most careful in my behavior, I am still one of the scandalous Pietro d’Angelo sisters, and they must keep their sons and brothers safe from me.”
    “You are nothing at all like your two older sisters!” Balia said indignantly.
    “No, I did not run away with an infidel, nor do I rule a duchy for my little son,” Lucianna agreed, “but I married a man who could have been my grandfather. Why would I have done such a thing except to inherit his wealth? And what kind of a life did the poor man live with me? Have I a secret lover? Did I hasten Alfredo’s death?”
    “Mistress!” Balia was shocked.
    “Now, Balia, do not deny you have heard this idle chatter, for my sister Serena has and has reported it all to me,” Lucianna said.
    Balia flushed. “I have,” she admitted, “and refuted it all to the teller’s face, but they didn’t want to believe you were a good wife to the master. Nor, had I explained to them, would they have understood that you and he became good friends.” She rehung the rose-colored gown and drew out a dark green silk decorated at its neck and sleeves with fine lace that had been made by the nuns at a local convent.
    “Let them think what they will,” Lucianna said. “I know I was a good wife to my husband, and his family knew it. That is all that matters. Still, for a few weeks I shall maintain more subdued colored gowns so that my neighbors may grow used to the idea that the Widow Allibatore has, after a full year, put aside her mourning.” She looked at the gown Balia was holding up. “Oh yes, that will do nicely. Do we have some nice roses in the garden I might wear in my hair?”
    “When does the Englishman return to his country?” Balia asked.
    “Soon, I believe,” Lucianna told her. “I shall miss his company, for he is charming and amusing.”
    “He has remained longer because of you,” Balia said.
    “I think he has remained because he likes our city,” Lucianna answered her.
    “You are naïve if you believe so, and I know you are not,” Balia replied with a twinkle in her eye.
    And it did become obvious that that was exactly why Robert Minton remained in Florence. But soon the weather began to grow colder and wetter.
    “I cannot remain any longer,” he told Lucianna as they sat one day by her fire. “I cannot leave my estates any longer. My majordomo cannot manage without me, though he is a good man.”
    “And I imagine the king needs you too,” she answered.
    “Nay, I am Henry Tudor’s friend, nothing more. I do not meddle in politics. Politics is a dangerous and tricky business. I want no part of it, Lucianna. I would marry, and have children. Being the patriarch of a family, the lord of a large estate, is a far better life. The whims of royalty quickly turn friend to foe. I am at my king’s beck and call, but we spoke much of this when we were young men in Brittany. I told Henry Tudor then I would always be there for him, but I would not involve myself in his governance. He said he understood, and that he wished he might live his life as simply. His mother, of course, would have never allowed it. Making him king, wedding him to Elizabeth of York, ended the hundred years of quarreling between the house of Lancaster and the house of York.”
    “You are a clever man to keep a king for a friend without involving yourself in his rule,” Lucianna told him. “I admire you for it, Roberto. I am sorry you must leave Florence,