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alone, else we should cause the kind of talk that would make my mother most unhappy. People are quick to jump to conclusions here, and more often than not, the wrong conclusion.”
    “Such gossip is not local to Florence. King Henry’s mother is the Lady Margaret Beaufort. She bore the king when she was barely thirteen. His father, her second husband, was Edmund Tudor, who had been killed in battle a few months prior to the king’s birth. Many feel she has too much influence on him.”
    “Does she?” Lucianna asked, fascinated by a girl who had borne her only child at thirteen to her second husband.
    “If she does,” the earl replied, “he considers her words, for he is a loving son. But the king’s decisions are his own, I firmly believe. You will see when you come to England.”
    “I am not going to England,” Lucianna said.
    “I think that you will. One day,” he told her.
    “It is unlikely I shall every leave Florence and its environs,” she told him. “Unlike my mother, I enjoy my city.”
    “You will like England. It is green and beautiful.”
    “I like Florence,” she said.
    “Have you never traveled?” he asked.
    “My sister Bianca traveled, and Francesca traveled, but I was married in Florence and have never been anywhere else,” Lucianna told him. “My husband was an elderly gentleman and could not travel even to my family’s summer villa, or down to the seashore where there is a small seaside villa that belonged to one of my grandparents.”
    He was surprised to learn she had never left the Florentine environs. She seemed so educated.
    “I don’t suppose travels in books or searching my globe counts,” she put in.
    “I suppose it is better than nothing at all,” he told her. “Shall I tell you about Rome and Venice?” he asked her.
    “I do know something of Venice. My mother is the daughter of Prince Alessandro Venier,” she told him. “But I should enjoy hearing of Rome, and your impressions of Venice. To my mother, it is the most perfect city in the world. My two older sisters’ stories of it were mostly humorous. They lived with our grandfather at one point. That was where Bianca had the opportunity to flee with her prince, and Francesca made such a mini-scandal with some boy she fancied herself in love with, but of course she really wasn’t.” Lucianna laughed.
    “Your sisters sound like naughty wenches,” he noted, smiling.
    “In that, my mother would agree with you,” Lucianna said.
    At that moment the shop bell rang, and its door opened to admit a fat gentleman.
    “Ah,
Signore
Piscelli,” Lucianna greeted him, stepping from behind her counter and past the earl. “My father said you were in need of some fine silks.” She ushered him to a chair. “Please sit,
signore
, and I will have what you require brought forth.”
    “Thank you, thank you,
Signora
Lucianna,” the fat gentleman said. “I am quite comfortable now.” He raised the small glass of wine a shop servant had hurried forth with. “Please continue with your other customer. I am content to wait.”
    “You are most gracious,” Lucianna said. “The earl has completed his business. Silks for the English king.” Then she turned to Robert Minton. “Thank you so much for your generous custom, my lord,” and she ushered him smoothly from the shop with a smile.
    “Masterfully done,
signora
,” he said as he bowed and departed.
    He should return to England soon, he thought, as he walked along the busy streets back to his lodging. He had already been gone for several months, but he had sent the silk ahead with two of his servants before he departed for Rome and Venice so Henry would not have to wait. As a rule, Henry was not a generous young man, but Robert Minton knew that came from having little as he grew up.
    Few seriously believed Henry Tudor, son of Margaret Beaufort, would ever be England’s king. King Edward had had brothers and two living sons. But Edward died unexpectedly, and his brother