‘You are misinformed,’ Papa said. ‘Business is strong and when I take delivery of the latest shipment it will be the largest yet received in Florence.’

‘I sympathise with your predicament,’ Signore Palagio said, ‘but do not lie to me. No one buys wool any more when there is fine silk to be had. Word is that shipment of yours arrived last month and still sits in the docks gathering dust. The Signoria has catalogued your debts in the public register put out yestereve, and it is no secret your shop in Prato closed recently. What else are we to deduce?’

Luna watched Guido Palagio smirk at his father’s words.

‘Whatever you damn well like! I will not discuss business at my table,’ her father answered hotly.

‘As you wish, though after dinner I would talk with you privately on this matter.’ Signore Palagio turned to Mamma Lucrezia. ‘Forgive me, madam,’ he said.

There was no flicker of concern in her step-mamma’s smile but she rose soon after and Signora Palagio rose too, signalling an end to the dinner. Luna and Maria followed the ladies through to Mamma Lucrezia’s chamber where they took more wine and sweetmeats. Luna listened to the conversation about fabrics and cooking techniques. Her cheeks ached from the effort of maintaining her smile and her head had begun to throb. She wished she could escape back to her bedchamber. No one would miss her. She heard the muffled voices of the men talking in the main hall. When Signora Palagio commended her step-mamma on her sweetmeats, Luna took the chance.

‘I will fetch some more,’ she offered, and was at the door before her step-mamma could object. She hurried along the balcony, looking down to see that no servants were watching her scurry away. She’d sat through the dinner as was commanded of her and now felt sure that her absence from the women’s company would go unnoticed. Mamma Lucrezia would be happily discussing wedding plans with the Palagio lady whilst Papa and his gentlemen guests drank wine in the dining hall. She passed her father’s studiolo and remembered she needed the copy of The Sand Reckoner. She slipped through the half-open door and closed it gently, resting her forehead against the cold wood in relief at this moment of privacy. She held her skirt up a little so she could more easily lift her peg-leg to relieve the pressure on her knee. It was sweet pleasure, such relief, and she let out an easy sigh as she resumed standing and dropped her skirts. Then she turned around to the bookshelf and stopped short. She was not alone.

Guido Palagio sat at her father’s desk with his feet resting on the beautiful wood.

Luna fell back against the door in shock. ‘What are you doing in here?’