Duchess of Milan Read Online Free PDF Page B

Pavia.” Bona's head swiveled to confront her daughter-in-law. “Any more than I believe that my baby Gian ever soiled himself in you. Not that that will stop her any more than it did you. You were both raised by the same impicatti in Naples and gave up your virtue to the same lechery, as even the devil is ashamed to witness. She'll steal your lovers. I can see in her eyes she is more clever than you. I told everyone the first day Satan sent you to us that you had no more sense than a donkey with a thistle under its tail.”
    “It is truly marvelous, Duchess Mother, how generous you are,” Isabella said. “Whatever qualities you possess, you are willing to credit to others in even greater abundance. You are the most infamous slut I have ever known, and yet you think that every other woman, even if she is an untouched maiden, has had more lovers than a Roman streetwalker. You are the most foolish woman I have ever known, and yet there is no one whom you do not presume the greater fool and will proceed to lecture as if you were a doctor at the University of Pavia. You are a very astonishing creature, Duchess Mother.”
    As if she regarded Isabella's carefully cadenced assault as a subtle form of flattery, Bona displayed a row of ragged black teeth, the decayed corpse of the artificially winsome smile she had favored her suitors with three decades previously. “Yes, you will soon come whining to me about that Este brat, with never the thanks that I warned you.”
    “And you, who have done nothing to defend the rights of your son's wife against Il Moro's mistress--a scrawny whore who believes in her diseased mind that her pimp lover is already Duke of Milan and she his duchess--will be even less effective against Il Moro's wife.”
    “As if God had given me the time to separate you spitting bitches when every day I must prevent Il Moro from taking everything that belongs to Gian. Better that the Gallerani whore were to send you and the Este brat home to the pit that spawned you both. Her child could never challenge Gian.”
    “Challenge Gian? Challenge Gian? You disgusting old slut.” Isabella's voice rose to an incredulous pitch. “Gian has already been defeated. It is my baby whom Il Moro now must challenge, and Il Moro must have his own son to do that, he must be able to offer Milan the promise of his own succession before the people will allow him to depose Gian and declare himself their Duke. And I will never give up, the way you did with Gian. I will defeat Il Moro's son no matter which of the two bitches--his wife or his whore--presents him with an heir.”
    “Your devil-sent spawn has no more right to be Duke of Milan than the issue of a whore and a horse-comber. Which no doubt he is.”
    Isabella stared down at her mother-in-law. When she spoke her tone was measured, almost deliberately dull. “You don't think we would have something to fear if Cecilia Gallerani were to give birth to a male child, Duchess Mother? Particularly since Il Moro does not seem inclined to spend much time sowing his new bride's field.”
    “Birdbrain. I know the people of Milan like you never could. I was their Duchess. A real duchess. The people of Milan would never accept a bastard as their duke's heir.” Bona's black teeth emerged again. “If he intended to make the Gallerani whore's bastard his heir, why did he need the Este brat?”
    “Perhaps, Duchess Mother, Il Moro's marriage had something to do with the Duke of Ferrara's threats to turn Venice against Il Moro, now that the Duke of Ferrara's son-in-law is Captain General of the Venetian armies. And Il Moro finally agreed to honor the marriage contract in early August, which was most likely before his whore conceived, so he most certainly did not know about her pregnancy then. And even now, how can he be certain the child will be a son? Perhaps, Duchess Mother, Il Moro is like a man who enters two horses in upalio race. He doubles his odds. Then he will place the colors of