Lorenzo found Marcello in his chambers and closed the door firmly behind her.
"Tell me everything,"she said without preamble.
Marcello sighed and poured them both wine. Then he began.
He told her about the constant stream of visitors, about the men who had become too bold, about the guards having to beat back advances. He told her about Matthew's prolonged visit, his predatory behaviour, the way he watched Marie like a hawk watching prey. He told her about William's earlier appearance, the strange timing of it.
Then he hesitated.
"What?" Lorenzo demanded. "What are you not telling me?"
"Before dinner was served tonight... William kissed Marie in the garden."
Lorenzo's hand tightened on her wine glass. Then she hurled it into the fireplace. The glass shattered, and flames leaped higher as the wine fuelled them.
She was already moving toward the door, her face dark with fury. "I am going to—"
Marcello grabbed her arm. "She did not kiss him back."
Lorenzo stopped, breathing hard.
"She pushed him away immediately," Marcello continued. "She looked horrified, not happy. She did not want it."
Lorenzo yanked her arm free. "Not you too! You are not going to blame me for this!"
"I am not blaming you," Marcello said firmly. "But people are behaving more boldly with her because you were not here to remind them where you stand. Your presence matters."
"I left an entire entourage!" Lorenzo said, her voice rising. "I left guards, I left you—"
"We are not you," Marcello interrupted. "We can never have the weight you carry. When you are here, no one dares. When you are gone..." He spread his hands. "The vultures circle."
Lorenzo paced the room like a caged animal, then stopped abruptly. "Send for Bess."
***
When Bess arrived, clearly nervous, Lorenzo did not invite her to sit.
"Have you shared details of private matters—things that happen in Marie's chambers—with others?"
Bess swallowed hard. "I... I shared some concerning details with Lady Boleyn, my lady's mother. I was worried about her wellbeing."
"Was anyone else present?"
"A couple of maids were nearby, but they were at a safe distance. I kept my voice low—"
"Safe distance?" Lorenzo's voice was ice. "There is no safe distance for gossip. You have compromised Marie. You have given ammunition to those ready to undermine her position. You should have acted wiser."
"Your Highness, I only wanted to protect—"
"You wanted to protect her?" Lorenzo stepped closer. "By making sure everyone knows intimate details of our marriage? By feeding the rumor mill that paints her as my plaything?"
"I did not mean—"
Marcello tried to intervene. "Lorenzo, perhaps—"
"No,"Lorenzo said firmly. "I will not have her by Marie's side anymore."
Bess dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face. "Please, Your Highness! I beg you! Lady Marie needs me! I have served her since she was a child!"
"Your service is ended," Lorenzo said, her voice final. "You will go to Marie now and tell her that her husband, His Highness, will be paying her a visit tonight. Make sure as many people hear you say it as possible."
Bess stared up at her, devastated.
"Go," Lorenzo commanded.
Bess fled, sobbing.
After she left, Lorenzo removed her cloak and loosened her coat, trying to calm the rage burning in her chest.
***
Marie's Chambers
Marie was being attended to in her chambers, her hair being brushed by one of the maids, both Italian and English servants moved around her, preparing her for the evening.
Bess arrived, her face blotchy from crying, but she wiped her tears quickly, trying to compose herself.
Marie noticed immediately. "Bess? What is wrong?"
"I am just a little unwell, my lady." Bess's voice was thick with emotion. Then she raised her voice slightly, making sure the other servants could hear: "Your husband, His Highness Prince Lorenzo, will be paying you a visit tonight."
The Italian maids exchanged glances. The English maids looked curious.
Marie watched them go, then turned to Bess. "Everyone out. Now."
The servants hurried from the room.
When they were alone, Marie stood and grabbed Bess's hands. "Tell me what is happening. The truth."
Bess broke down completely. "The master... he blames me for undermining you. He says I have been careless with information. He has decided I will no longer serve you."
"What?"Marie's voice was sharp with anger. "I will not allow it."
"His Highness has made his decision,"Bess said, tears flowing freely. "I am so sorry, my lady. I only wanted to protect you."
Marie paced the room, fury building in her chest.
***
An hour later, Lorenzo entered.
Bess curtsied deeply and left without another word, closing the door behind her.
Lorenzo walked to the chair by the fireplace and sat down. She removed her boots, then her coat, sitting in her white shirt and dark pants. The firelight cast shadows across her face.
Marie was in bed, a book in her lap, pretending to read though her eyes had not moved across the page since Lorenzo entered.
Lorenzo spoke, her voice measured. "Please never again raise your hand against me in public."
Marie did not look up.
"It undermines you," Lorenzo continued. "A woman who strikes her man in front of others is not well regarded in Italian culture. I do not know about England, but I assume it is the same."
Marie slammed her book shut and threw it at Lorenzo. It struck her shoulder and fell to the floor.
"At this point, I am already considered a whore!" Marie shouted. "Why does it matter if I am an uncivilized one as well?"
Lorenzo's jaw clenched. "Is that why you let William kiss you?"
Marie bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears. "I was going to tell you about it! He did it without my consent. I did not agree to it or encourage it!"
"Yet you slap me for offending you and spare him," Lorenzo said. "How very confusing."
"What is really confusing,"Marie said, her voice shaking with anger, "is your sense of responsibility. It is quite displaced."
Lorenzo sat forward, exasperated, running her hand through her hair. "What do you mean by that?"
"Bess did not compromise me," Marie said, standing from the bed. "You did. If anyone should pay for what happened, it should be you."
Lorenzo's eyes flashed. She replied in Italian, her voice tight with frustration, "Continua così e vediamo come va il nostro matrimonio." *Keep this up and see how our marriage goes.*
Marie's response came immediately in equally fluent Italian, her voice breaking: "Quale matrimonio? Sono solo la tua scaldacuore finché non sposi bene." *What marriage? I am just your bed warmer until you marry well.*
Lorenzo looked away, her jaw working. She had no response to that. Because on paper, in the eyes of the law and society, Marie was right.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and painful.
Lorenzo remained in the chair, staring at the dying fire, her hands gripping the armrests so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Marie climbed back in bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin, then turned her back to Lorenzo once more.
*How did we get here?* Lorenzo thought. *A few months ago, we cried in each other's arms. We made love in that bath. And now...*
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. The fire continued to die, the room growing colder.
Then Marie spoke, her voice muffled by the pillow. "Are you going to sit there all night?"
"I do not know," Lorenzo said honestly.
"Well, I cannot sleep with you watching me like that."
Lorenzo stood. "Well I can not leave it will make the gossip worst."
"So it is the gossips you fear." Marie sat up abruptly, the blankets falling to her waist. Her eyes were red from crying, her hair wild around her shoulders. "Let me fix that for you."