The Baroness had come over to dance, with a beauty mark just below her cheek. Her gown was a light blue, and it went low. Though she was far from the most richly dressed, she was still a beautiful woman, with doe-like eyes and small, thin lips. She offered her hand, and he kissed it. 

  Though, his first foot was already wrong. The Baroness had only subtly sidestepped back into the routine, as though knowing what to do. 

“My apologies.” 

“You’re just an amateur to this. No matter, just follow what I do.” And he found it easier to follow. 

“Francesco told me about you, and that you desire someone.” He told her. “You need a teacher.” 

  There was a sophistication. 

“What do you do during the salons?” 

“Listen to the eminent men, of course, literary lions. And ideas that are rarely said. I hear a lot of them, whether it is them talking about inequality, about rights, about learning,” she said. “I preside over them all. For it is what I desire to know.” 

“I see. So, a genuine hunger for knowledge?” He asked. 

“Do you find it amusing or terrifying?” 

“Neither,” he said. “It’s your choice, after all.” 

“You don’t seem thrilled despite being handed what so many men dream of and spend a lifetime to work for.” Then they stopped. She took a break. 

  Francesco gave him a wink. He shook his head. 

“So, are you in need of learning how to love?” She asked., her arm going over him. “Do you want me to show you?” 

“No, I find your interests more intriguing.” 

  She looked at him. “Men are so quick to jump right into my arms the moment I hint interest. So, what does interest you?” 

“I wonder, why do you choose to indulge in all these dalliances?” He asked. He had a clue. But he wanted to ask her. 

  She raised her eyebrow, hesitating over the line of questioning that was being raised. 

“Well, you mean, apart from the fact that I’m stuck in an unhappy marriage not of my own choosing.” She looked. “Most women can console in that their men are great, or they’re handsome. Mine was a great man. He is kind to me, but I tire of that. But this is a marriage that I’m stuck with, till death do us part.” 

“I see. It’s sad, isn’t it, that you don’t have the choice to do it?” 

“Your unusual,” she said. “Why do you say so?” 

“I know what it’s like to force to live a life where you can only console yourself that your needs are taken care of. But otherwise, you’re hollow. But the dalliances are your option to rebel against that.” He looked at her right into her eyes. 

  She only gives a scoff, but one of surprise. She does lean closer. “You seem to get my pain. But I do not understand where you share mine?”  

“I’m forced to live a life of an heir, when I think all I wanted to do was to become a philosopher. I relished philosophy when I was young, and that was taken away from me. But I can’t lie to myself or console myself. All I feel is rage at what could have been. And through that, a desire for a better world emerges.” 

“So, what do you think of me?” She asked. “I seek love outside now instead of doing the dutiful thing of waiting for my husband to die so that I can hopefully remarry before I get too old. I have dalliances because they give me something, some contentment. My husband knows, he’s too tired these days to fulfill his duties to me. And so, he knows that I will have them, as long as I keep things discreet.” 

Lorenzo listened, nodding his own head. 

“I can’t fault you. Besides, you chose. We all choose, regardless. Some may call me a madman, for choosing to change a world that rarely changes, if at all. But if it is so, I guess I’ll do it gladly.” 

“You’re most interesting. I’ll send someone to invite you to my salon. I want to know you better, to hear of your thoughts.” She noted. “But I know for sure that you’re a man who wants to fall in love. You fell deeply in love or not at all. It’s a dangerous gift, and I don’t think you’ll find me that appealing a lover.” 

“Thank you for guiding me back there.” He told her. “I was unsure.” 

“Count little on it. It’s not an issue for me at all.” She turned around. “But I thank you for dancing with me, and being honest. Amusing, and you’re a very interesting man to know.” 

“So, better than Francesco?” 

“He’s a typical rake.” The baroness rolled her eyes. “There is not much you can do with that. He’s just a man whose chasing a new skirt, gets bored and move on. No woman will get his undivided attention—he cares about their flesh more than their minds. I did it with him when I was younger, when all I hungered for was just the arms of a man who was not old and feeble.”

There was an honesty to her words, and he liked that. 

Lorenzo felt a little charmed by what she said to him, much more so than he believed. She had a way with words.  

“But now?” 

“Someone who can understand me,” she said. “A lover is more than just the one you share them with. You can’t choose your husband, but you can always choose your lover. That is what my parents told me when they sold me like a broodmare to this old man, all so I could play nursemaid.” She let out a sigh, folding out her fan. 

He wanted to ask her something. 

“What did Francesco make a deal with you for?” He asked. “You couldn’t have been so kind to oblige him.” 

She didn’t seem like the sort to be fair. 

“You’re smarter than I thought. It’s just a favour for a favour. I get a favour from him, one that I can call him to teach his young cousin the way of love,” she said. “Or at least don’t make him completely unable to do the chase.” 

Lorenzo gave a nod, before glancing at Francesco, who was talking with some of the young girls. 

“Do you hate it?” She asked. “Do you hate having your cousin do something like that to you?” 

“Yes, I do,” he said. “I want to tell him something, but that’s for later. I am glad to have talked to you. And if so, I’ll like to see you again too.” 

He had to go; he desperately wanted the conversation to continue. But he found her charming. 

“You can send a caller to me. I’ll like to see you in my salon. It’s going to be here in Parma.” She smiled. “I’m staying here for a while.” 

And he would need a excuse here too. 

“Well, he will ask you my name, since he’s assuming that I’ll induct you into the ways of love tonight. It’s Lavinia.” 

“Call me Lorenzo, in that case,” he said. “Did he really say that?” 

“He already has a room. The host for this party is one of his dearest friends. It’s easy.” She shot him an unimpressed look. 

“Did she tell you her name?” Francesco asked, perhaps a little too eagerly.

“It’s Lavinia.” Lorenzo told her. 

  Francesco grinned. “Great, sounds like it went great. Did she tell you where to meet later?” 

“She’s inviting me to her home, to be in her salon.” Lorenzo smiled. 

  Francesco had a disbelieving look before asking. “How do you end up making these things completely useless?” 

“I don’t think I want pleasures of the flesh, but she and I, we’re both similar in our circumstances.” He looked down. 

  Francesco looked at him, disbelieving. “You both are nothing alike. You’re a man and she’s a woman. I do not see what you both share in common.” 

“Plenty of things,” he said, not wanting to tell it to the oblivious Francesco. Or rather, how he comprehended things simply as they were, whether he could seduce them or teach them how to seduce. 

“Did my father put you up to this?” He asked. Maybe it was too embarrassing. 

“It’s a rite of passage, and I do that with all my brothers and all my male cousins, He continued with a sigh. “Now I see why you survived, Paris.” Then he leaned in. “But to be sure, you don’t prefer men, right?” 

“No, I don’t. I never really thought of them that way. But I want to talk to her again. She’s sincere with me.” Lorenzo returned with a dreamy smile, his eyes looking at her as she danced again. 

  Francesco relaxed. “Maybe this isn’t completely hopeless after all.” 

  Lorenzo looked. "I should find Cecelia to go home." 

  His eyes were observing, before picking out his sister dancing with a suitor. 

  "No, you aren't. She doesn’t have a lot of time, so she has to make the best of now." He looked. "You're not leaving till the day turns dark and you’ve acquainted yourself with a dozen girls."

He could walk out, but it wasn’t so easy. And Francesco would continue to pick his dancing partners, and that, to him, was not good. If he was going, it’ll be by his own choices. 

  "This time, I pick who it is." He went before Francesco could change his reaction on him.