wife would have no complaints about marrying a paunchy old man. And if she were like most gently raised females, she would have been taught that fucking had but one purpose. Procreation. Since he wanted no more children, he would leave her mostly in peace after their wedding night. He had Nudara to serve his darker needs. And he had a beautiful and very expensive mistress who was paid lavishly to take no other lovers while she was under his protection. He was envied for his mistress, which pleased Sebastiano Rovere quite well. Now he would possess the most beautiful girl in all of Florence, and would be doubly envied.
Having Bianca Pietro d’Angelo for his wife would add to his status as an important man. Her father was head of his guild, and as such served in the government from time to time, like all important men. But Sebastiano Rovere wanted one day to attain the elected position of chancellor. Rovere might not know it yet, but Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo was going to help him gain that post eventually.
The slaves bathed him, washing his hair as well. They massaged his body with sandalwood oil. He left the bath, but not before pinching the buttocks and nipples of the slave girls, who giggled and made lascivious gestures at him, which caused him to laugh. His mood was buoyed even further when he saw himself in the fine new robe in which Guido dressed him. He was a handsome man, he had to admit to himself.
And even as Sebastiano Rovere prepared to meet Bianca Pietro d’Angelo, the girl was being dressed in a new gown of the finest rose-colored silk. The fabric molded itself to the line of her graceful young body before blossoming into a full skirt. The neckline was low-cut and square. The sleeves were full. The bodice of the gown was decorated with silver embroidery, and the sleeves edged in delicate silver lace. Her long dark hair was left loose but held back by a rose-and-silver-striped ribbon. Pale pink pearls set in silver hung from her ears. About her neck was a dainty rope of pink pearls from which hung a silver and gold crucifix.
“I’ve never had such a gown,” Bianca marveled.
“The color suits you,” Francesca said ruefully. “It wouldn’t suit me at all.”
“You are many years away from such a gown as this,” their mother said. “Do not be in such a hurry to grow up, my daughter.”
“But if I can grow up quickly,” Francesca said, “I can marry that Venetian prince you were considering for Bianca before Signore Rovere asked for my sister. Our grandfather must be very disappointed to have that match stolen from beneath his very aristocratic nose.”
Orianna sighed. “You are too outspoken, Francesca,” she scolded. “And you must stop listening at doors. Do not deny it, for we both know it is the truth.”
“But nobody ever tells me anything,” Francesca complained.
“Much of what you learn is not your business, which is why you are not told,” her mother replied sternly. Then Orianna turned back to Bianca. “I will call for you when it is time for us to introduce you to Signore Rovere. He is certain to want a bit of time alone with you. Say as little as possible to him, and be modest.”
“Would he decide to change his mind if I forgot my manners,
Madre
? If that be the case then I shall do what I must to discourage him,” Bianca replied.
“Regretfully, it will not change his mind, for he is determined to have the most beautiful maiden in Florence as his wife,” her mother said. “Signore Rovere is a collector of fine and rare things, my daughter. You are one such thing, and as it is within his grasp to have you, he will.”
Bianca shuddered and Orianna put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her.
A servant came to tell the mistress of the house that their guest was even now coming through the little park towards the palazzo door. Kissing Bianca upon the top of her dark head, Orianna hurried off to join her husband. Together they greeted Sebastiano Rovere, ushering him
Having Bianca Pietro d’Angelo for his wife would add to his status as an important man. Her father was head of his guild, and as such served in the government from time to time, like all important men. But Sebastiano Rovere wanted one day to attain the elected position of chancellor. Rovere might not know it yet, but Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo was going to help him gain that post eventually.
The slaves bathed him, washing his hair as well. They massaged his body with sandalwood oil. He left the bath, but not before pinching the buttocks and nipples of the slave girls, who giggled and made lascivious gestures at him, which caused him to laugh. His mood was buoyed even further when he saw himself in the fine new robe in which Guido dressed him. He was a handsome man, he had to admit to himself.
And even as Sebastiano Rovere prepared to meet Bianca Pietro d’Angelo, the girl was being dressed in a new gown of the finest rose-colored silk. The fabric molded itself to the line of her graceful young body before blossoming into a full skirt. The neckline was low-cut and square. The sleeves were full. The bodice of the gown was decorated with silver embroidery, and the sleeves edged in delicate silver lace. Her long dark hair was left loose but held back by a rose-and-silver-striped ribbon. Pale pink pearls set in silver hung from her ears. About her neck was a dainty rope of pink pearls from which hung a silver and gold crucifix.
“I’ve never had such a gown,” Bianca marveled.
“The color suits you,” Francesca said ruefully. “It wouldn’t suit me at all.”
“You are many years away from such a gown as this,” their mother said. “Do not be in such a hurry to grow up, my daughter.”
“But if I can grow up quickly,” Francesca said, “I can marry that Venetian prince you were considering for Bianca before Signore Rovere asked for my sister. Our grandfather must be very disappointed to have that match stolen from beneath his very aristocratic nose.”
Orianna sighed. “You are too outspoken, Francesca,” she scolded. “And you must stop listening at doors. Do not deny it, for we both know it is the truth.”
“But nobody ever tells me anything,” Francesca complained.
“Much of what you learn is not your business, which is why you are not told,” her mother replied sternly. Then Orianna turned back to Bianca. “I will call for you when it is time for us to introduce you to Signore Rovere. He is certain to want a bit of time alone with you. Say as little as possible to him, and be modest.”
“Would he decide to change his mind if I forgot my manners,
Madre
? If that be the case then I shall do what I must to discourage him,” Bianca replied.
“Regretfully, it will not change his mind, for he is determined to have the most beautiful maiden in Florence as his wife,” her mother said. “Signore Rovere is a collector of fine and rare things, my daughter. You are one such thing, and as it is within his grasp to have you, he will.”
Bianca shuddered and Orianna put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her.
A servant came to tell the mistress of the house that their guest was even now coming through the little park towards the palazzo door. Kissing Bianca upon the top of her dark head, Orianna hurried off to join her husband. Together they greeted Sebastiano Rovere, ushering him
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