Read Online His Last Duchess by Gabrielle Kimm - Free Book Online Page B

Franciscan, probably. He was followed by a dark young man carrying several long rolls of heavy paper.
    â€œMaybe he is making a map of the duchy.” The Signora pointed at the young man. “Alfonso said he wanted a proper one drawn up.”
    Several people spilled out of the front doors to meet the new arrivals, who were quickly shown inside. The brown drab of the friar’s robes stood out, Catelina thought, against the bright colours of the castle servants.
    â€œAlfonso will be home soon, I expect. I’m not sure where he has been, but I imagine he has had important things to do. What do you think, Lina?”
    Catelina did not know what to say. She had a good idea of what sort of “things” the Signore might have been doing that morning but thought it inappropriate to share her ideas with his wife. The Castello was full of interesting sources of information, for people who were prepared to listen.
    ***
    Francesca Felizzi was on her hands and knees, her head and shoulders beneath the bed and her bare backside facing towards where Alfonso sat on the big elmwood chair under the window. It was, no doubt, a deliberate move, he thought, enjoying the sight, for she was certainly taking her time in finding her lost belonging.
    After a moment, however, she stood up, pushed her hair back from her face and sat on the edge of the bed. Stretching one leg out and flexing her toes, she bent her knee up and put on her newly recovered stocking. “So, are you going to tell me or not? What’s she like?” she said.
    Alfonso watched her for a moment before he replied. “The new Signora?” he said. “Lucrezia is beautiful, of impeccable stock and is quite charming.”
    His words sounded cool and confident, but Alfonso could hear the deliberate omissions screaming their accusations into the silence that followed his pronouncement. A hot wave of shame washed over him as he contemplated the pitiful fiasco that constituted his experience of the marriage bed so far. It would have been a relief, he thought, to pour out to Francesca his bewilderment at his humiliation. His uninhibited whore, after all, knew his capabilities better than anyone, and this morning, thank God, he had proved them again to her with a vigour that had at last silenced the mocking voices that had infiltrated his dreams since his unexpected incapacity of a few nights previously. But he knew he would not do it. Could not.
    He said, hoping he sounded unconcerned, “Yes—it seems that I have married a beautiful child. Her lineage and nobility are faultless and her family have clearly understood the importance of the alliance we have forged with this union. Particularly since Cateau-Cambrésis—”
    â€œOh, for God’s sake, don’t start talking politics!”
    As usual when Francesca spoke with so little regard for propriety, Alfonso felt a shudder of shock at being spoken to in a manner none other of his acquaintance would dare to adopt. “You are impolite,” he said coolly.
    â€œI know,” she said, tying her garter, “and you are far too fond of the sound of your own voice. But you make up for it in other ways, Alfonso, as do I, which is, after all, why we put up with each other.” She crossed the room and bent to kiss his mouth.
    â€œPerhaps, though,” she said, her smile fading, “you will tire of me now, with such competition in your legitimate bed.”
    She spoke flippantly, but there was an edge to her voice. Alfonso stood up, slid his hands down her back and held her by the buttocks. Her head tilted back and her arms went up and around his neck.
    â€œShe’s beautiful, Francesca,” he said, “but she’s a child. She has little sophistication, and I doubt very much she will be able to compete with so…experienced a rival. You are very necessary to me.”
    And you have no idea quite how true that is just now, he thought.
    Francesca said