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"Persian cat?" Sforza's interest piqued again. "What’s her temperament like?"
"Sharp-tongued and hard to tame, I’ve heard there are quite a few suitors."
"Ha," the man tapped his thick knuckles, as if already burning with the desire to conquer. "You must arrange for me to meet her—after all, we’ve been cooperating for so long."
"Of course."
But since the matter had been spoken, a formal meeting was necessary.
However, it was likely because the Milanese lord had already met the amber-eyed little wildcat privately that, upon meeting the alchemist, he wasn’t as eager or welcoming as people had anticipated. He offered only a formal greeting and tested her opinion on the marriage proposal.
She, naturally, politely thanked him and declined.
At the moment of her refusal, several people in the room sighed in relief.
"You will meet someone more suitable," Sforza exhaled, offering a broad, sincere smile. "God will send you a perfect husband."
Hedy smiled noncommittally, simply leaning in to bid him farewell, with no trace of regret.
Lorenzo watched her walk away, then glanced at Sforza. "Last night?"
The Milanese lord grinned. "That cat has quite the fiery temper, I like it."
After leaving the drawing room, Da Vinci adjusted his breathing and paced back and forth in the hallway.
He understood well that he didn’t like her, nor had he developed any affectionate, tender feelings toward her.
He had seen the way Botticelli looked at Simonetta’s portrait—the emotion was clearly nothing like what he felt.
Yet, Da Vinci still couldn't accept the possibility that Botticelli had suggested.
"You should be ready to lose this friend at any time."
No...
If Hedy ever married, out of respect for her husband or for her own honor, he shouldn’t continue to maintain such a close relationship with her.
But such an exceptional woman...
Da Vinci took a deep breath again, still hesitating before he knocked on Hedy’s door.
Dechio, the maid, opened the door and gestured with her eyes to show that her mistress was busy.
Hedy was scraping mold off a green olive, wearing a mask and goggles—clearly wary of the substance on it.
Da Vinci stepped forward, intending to approach her, but paused halfway.
He didn’t know how to ask such a question.
This request sounded absurd and unreasonable, even though he had been headstrong for so long. It felt deeply illogical.
But there were so many mysteries in this world that had yet to be explored, and the potential of penicillin...
"Leonardo? What’s the matter?" Hedy turned to look at him, then resumed carefully transferring the scraped mold into a glass dish.
"I heard about the Milanese lord," he said dryly.
"Trade or marriage?" she asked casually. "The former is certainly a good thing. Florence and Milan should strengthen their ties."
