‘I do have something to ask you,’ she said, a rush of bravado overtaking her common sense. ‘I would like to resume my studies and focus on astronomy.’ She paused, breathing quickly, and passed her father the plate of sweetmeats. At least Maria seemed to be calmer, for Luna heard her whisper, ‘What are you doing?’ and felt her prod her thigh.

Her father crossed his arms and smiled. She saw, by the slight rise in his eyebrows, that she’d piqued his interest.

‘Astronomy?’ he said with a mixture of curiosity and pride.

‘Yes, Papa. Let me learn what makes the Sun turn about us.’

‘Truly, husband, you must know this is unacceptable.’ Mamma Lucrezia sounded aggrieved.

‘You used to take me star gazing,’ Luna added, ‘as your father took you. I want to understand the science of the heavens.’

He smiled at her indulgently. ‘To stand in the stillness of a dark night and turn your eyes to the heavens is to honour our Lord.’

‘As we were wont to do.’ She willed her father to remember his pleasure at their outings. ‘You instilled this curiosity in me, Papa, and now I want to grow it.’

‘My dear, she has become incorrigible.’ Mamma Lucrezia grabbed her husband’s arm and dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘We have all humoured your prodigy and I see how it inflates your ego, but she is that child no longer and it does no service to indulge her any further.’ She leant in closer. ‘Especially now.’

‘Sacrobosco explains the Ptolemaic model so thoroughly, but he’s been overtaken by the new work from Peuerbach and Joannes de Monte Regio. It is their Epitome of the Almagest I want to read.’

‘So you have heard about my latest acquisition? I suppose the whole of Florence is talking about this book—why not my own clever daughter?’ He seemed pleased.

Mamma Lucrezia stood abruptly. ‘It is the betrothal of your younger daughter that rightfully demands attention.’

‘Will you take me star gazing again?’ Luna asked, ignoring her step-mamma. Their night-time excursions had dwindled in the past years as her father became more occupied with his burgeoning cloth business and with impressing the Academy. Now, with all this talk of marriage, Luna felt a sudden longing for that closeness with him again. ‘Will you?’

‘Enough, Leonarda Lunetta. This must stop! Your own future will be here soon enough,’ snapped Mamma Lucrezia.

Luna didn’t get the chance to challenge her step-mamma, for a servant appeared in the doorway and close behind him was Friar Bartolomeo, red-faced and out of breath. Papa stood at the sight of his friend.

‘Sire, my nephew, Roberto, is arrived in the city under cover of night. I’m a man of God, not a politician. What am I to do?’