Astounded, he said, “And what happens when you are no longer pleased to have me as your lover, Bianca?”
Bianca saw the hurt in his eyes. She had been too candid with him. She had injured his pride. It was a mistake she would not make again. “Oh, my love,” she said, throwing herself into his arms, “I shall never grow tired of your passion. More likely you will grow tired of me when I grow old and plump.”
His arms tightened about her. He was just discovering what a clever woman she was. It was frankly quite a shock. He kissed the top of her ebony head. “I will go home, and leave you to manage your not-so-welcome guests,” he told her.And think on this sudden turn of events,he said silently to himself.I love her, but can I manage an independent woman?
She heard the tightness in his voice. “Amir,” she said, looking up at him now, “do not be angry with me, my love. Of all those I know, I thought you would understand better than any my need for true freedom.”
He sighed. “I do,” he admitted, reluctantly realizing that he actually did understand. “I have the same needs as well, beloved. That is why I reside here in the Republic of Florence instead of my own home on the Black Sea. Still, to hear you give voice to your desires surprises me. You have never before spoken of such things.”
“I could not speak such thoughts before my husband’s death,” Bianca explained.
“No, you could not, could you?” he agreed. He tipped her face up to his, and gave her a quick kiss. “Send to me when your guests are gone, beloved.”
“I will,” she told him.
And then he was gone, calling for Krikor to join him.
Bianca watched him go, and then with a sigh turned to begin preparations for her guests. “Put the brothers in the guest chamber facing the sea, and the lawyer in the one facing the gardens,” she told Filomena. “Cook simple meals,” she instructed Gemma. “I don’t want them settling in for a long stay. And serve passable but not the best wines. A day or two is all I can bear of such company.”
“You should send to your father,” Agata said.
“Why?” Bianca demanded.
“He can advise you. I do not think it is wise for you to speak with these people without someone there to see to your interests,” Agata replied.
“I want nothing from Rovere but that which is mine,” Bianca said. “I will not profit from his death, well deserved as it was.”
“You deserve something for the time you spent with that demon and the misery he visited upon you,” Agata said indignantly.
Bianca smiled, and patted her servingwoman’s hand. “Whatever he has is cursed in my eyes. I would not bring his bad luck into my house,” she explained, knowing that Agata would understand that.
“Ahhhh, yes!” her loyal servant responded, nodding. “Now I see, mistress. You are so very wise. Your mother would be pleased.”
“I shall invest my dower portion with the di Medici bank,” Bianca said. “Now let us prepare for our guests, for the sooner we can accommodate them, the sooner they will be gone.”
The Rovere brothers and their lawyer came. All were dressed in black as a sign of their mourning. Bianca greeted them in a red gown trimmed in gold thread and tiny black jet beading.
“You do not mourn your husband,signora?” the lawyer, whose name was Renzo Guardini, asked her disapprovingly. He was a tall, thin man with a pinched face.
“I had not seen my husband in almost two years, Signore Guardini,” Bianca replied. “Until he arrived at my villa shortly before his demise. In the brief time he was here and before he was driven off, he beat me severely while his men attempted to rape my women servants. I was seeking an annulment of our marriage, and he obviously did not approve. He was a monster. I am not a hypocrite to mourn a man I despised and whose debauchery was legend. I hope he is roasting in hell.” She smiled. “Let us go to my library, which is a suitable place in which to conduct business,” Bianca suggested, as she led them from the entry of the house where she had greeted them into the more comfortable surroundings. “There is a tray with glasses and wine,signores. Please help yourselves. My household staff is small and limited to women servants only, although I do have two men for the gardens and stables.” She seated herself, and her guests did too after helping themselves to her wine.
“Your husband has left you a very rich woman,” Signore Guardini began.
“I want nothing but my dower portion plus the interest it would have earned in a respectable bank from the time I was betrothed to him until his death,” Bianca said.
“Signora, you do not understand,” the lawyer said. “Sebastiano Rovere left his widow half of his fortune as well as his house and all of his slaves.”
“Did he indeed?” Bianca was genuinely surprised, but then she saw her father’s hand in that. Rovere had agreed because he wanted the most beautiful girl in Florence for his wife, and he didn’t expect Bianca to outlive him.
“He did indeed,” Guardini said sourly, his tone implying she didn’t deserve it.
“I want only my dower portion plus interest,” Bianca repeated. “I certainly don’t want the house where I was so unhappy. I will free the poor slaves he held but for one.”
She turned to Stefano Rovere. “Take Nudara, and sell her along with her damnable donkey to the highest bidder. Then give the monies you obtain to the Reverend Mother Baptista at the convent of Santa Maria del Fiore outside the city’s gates.”
“That slave girl is worth a fortune,” Alberto Rovere protested, “and you would give that fortune to some shabby convent outside the city? I wonder if they would even take monies obtained from such a sale.”
“As they are unlikely to know, and they are poor, I imagine they will be grateful for such an unexpected gift,” Bianca said sweetly. “But should you dare to tell them the origins of their good fortune, Alberto, believe me when I promise you that you will suffer for your perfidy. My Agata will see that the evil eye is put on you. And I will curse you myself with a certain inability to perform. Some good should come from that vile bitch.”
