Soon after the wedding, the Fusilis left Via dei Spiago for a grander palazzo. Luna liked the trees that lined the piazza in front of their new home, an abandoned palace her father had bought for a pitiable price from Signore Amieri after that family went bankrupt. He spent lavishly on improvements for greater comfort and luxury until the Fusili palazzo matched all the other great houses of Florence. Then Papa began inviting distinguished Florentines to sup with him.

Lorenzo de’ Medici and his sons Piero, Giovanni and Giuliano visited and Luna could tell from her father’s enthusiastic reception that this was a good thing. She couldn’t remember her time in the Medicis’ country estate but she understood their two families were bonded by the great tragedy that had left her in their care and that her father carried an obligation to his patron. Luna loved the evening soirees. Mamma Lucrezia would go to great trouble, preparing her most renowned dishes with the kitchen girls and Luna would linger at the door into the main hall listening to the men’s conversation, shivering with anticipation of an invitation to entertain them as she spied faces she recognised: Lorenzo de’ Medici, liked by everyone; his brother-in-law Bernardo Rucellai with the potato nose; Marsilio Ficino—whenever he attended her father seemed particularly pleased. Signore Ficino was working on a new set of writings about a healthy life, which Luna was curious to read, as it seemed so different a topic from his Latin translations of Plato.

Every few weeks, Luna’s wish came true and her father would ask her to join them. She would enter confidently to stand in front of the men and answer their challenge, whether it be to recite her father’s favourite Petrarch or, when her father was feeling generous, to argue her right to a liberal education. She’d carry the thrill of those gatherings in her heart for weeks afterwards. Of course, there was usually one man who’d rise and offer an argument against her. This always delighted her, for to have an adversary in debate was a sign of her acceptance. She’d stand dutifully beside her father and watch her challenger strut about vaingloriously before the assembly. Tommaso Palagio, a businessman from Bologna who, gossip said, was on the rise, often sat arrogantly in judgement of her. He clearly thought his arguments were nuanced but Luna found his lengthy, convoluted retorts quite boring. Once finished, he was prone to turning full circle with such self-aggrandising that Luna had to stop from laughing. Ofttimes she saw, by glancing around the audience, that she wasn’t alone in her assessment of his intellect, though none of the gentlemen spoke up against him. Signore Palagio especially liked to challenge her when she spoke in support of educating girls. The foolish man never realised that even as he praised her intelligence, he insulted her by suggesting she was unique amongst her sex. Yet, Signore Palagio was a friend of her step-mamma’s from her Bologna life and her father insisted she treat him leniently, so she would eventually let him think he’d bested her.