Read The Rossetti Letter (v5) for Free Online

Signorina Rossetti,” he said, but Alessandra knew very well that he did not mean it.
     
    The clerk at the Palazzo Camerlenghi finished counting out fourteen soldi, then unlocked the largest of the three small chests on the table facing him. He glanced down at the chit from Banco Cattona, then up at Alessandra.
    “Twenty-eight ducats, is that correct?”
    “Yes,” Alessandra said. Her voice sounded hollow. Twenty-eight ducats. How will we survive with only twenty-eight ducats? She drew in a ragged breath and brushed her fingers across her tearstained face. This had to be the worst day of her life, except for the day nearly a year ago when she’d learned of her father’s and brother’s deaths. Lorenzo was the one who’d told her. Once he’d related the terrible news, he’d dropped to his knees and confessed his great admiration—no, he could no longer deny it, he said—his ardent love for her. He had begged her to allow him to help and protect her. He’d promised to take care of her, and she had believed him. Had she been deceived?
    No, Alessandra decided, that could not be true. Lorenzo had loved her, she was sure of that; many times she had regretted that she could not return his passionate feelings. What had happened with her money must have been a mistake or simply bad luck. She only wished that knowing this made her present circumstances easier.
    “That’s twenty-eight ducats,” the clerk said loudly, and Alessandra realized from his tone and vexed expression that he’d already spoken once or twice, but she hadn’t heard him. As she took the neatly stacked gold coins from the table, a commotion at the front of the palazzo turned both their heads.
    The guards had opened the wide double doors and the noise from the street echoed inside the marble-floored room. A great crowd had gathered outside, and the calls and shouts that arose from it soon captured the attention of everyone in the treasury. Alessandra strained to hear, but she couldn’t understand what they were shouting.
    The clerk stood up, his eyes riveted on the door. The other clerks had risen, too. Even the other patrons—all of them men, she noticed—were turned toward the door in anticipation. But of what?
    Within seconds her curiosity was rewarded. Four bearers carrying an open palanquin entered the Palazzo Camerlenghi. Atop the palanquin, a woman more stunning than any Alessandra had ever seen was comfortably ensconced amongst a collection of silk and velvet pillows. Outside, the shouts grew louder as the doors began to close behind her. “La Celestia!” Alessandra heard quite clearly now.
    La Celestia. Even Alessandra had heard of Venice’s reigning courtesan, reputedly the most beautiful in the city—a reputation that was well deserved, Alessandra thought as she stared at her. The courtesan’s heart-shaped face was framed by a mane of glossy dark hair that spilled around her bare shoulders and her generous breasts, which were almost fully exposed above the low neckline of her gown. Her eyes were large and thick lashed, as exotic as a cat’s, her skin as pale and luminous as the moon. She was surrounded by a bewildering number of servants and admirers who pushed their way into the treasury. Judging by the size and sound of the crowd outside, La Celestia’s appearance on the Rialto had nearly caused a riot. The courtesan seemed unfazed by the commotion she had created. As the guards shut the heavy doors, she smiled and waved at the men outside who were still calling her name, clearly enjoying the attention, as serenely happy as a beloved queen among her subjects.
    The manager of the treasury rushed over to greet her. La Celestia’s admirers, a dozen young noblemen, filled the room with their self-importance, talking and laughing among themselves. The bearers set the palanquin down, and two of the noblemen rushed to offer their hands to the courtesan. After a second’s hesitation, she settled on the fairer of the two, who gave his