Lucrezia first went to Paolo because she was lonely. She treated him like she would treat a child or a small animal. He was scared of her, baffled by her attention, which was neither too overbearing, nor sadistic, nor overtly sexual. She had control of every situation and, being raised as a lady, she had had enough practice in her previous, unmarried life in the arts of mistress-dom. Yet, for all her cool exterior Lucrezia was in transition. She was no longer an innocent child – her wedding night had swept that away in a smoky cloud of pain and fear – neither a woman fully grown.
She had always been sheltered in her father's home – by her father, her elder brother, even Juan who resented "babying" her, as he insisted Cesare did enough of that. With Paolo Lucrezia had something of a captive audience. She missed her family and, although she had never been prone to the company of other girls, she missed all the familiar faces. Here there were few people to talk to, few who did not fear her husband and, by association, fear her. Paolo feared her too, but it was more of a reverence. She thought that perhaps he saw a goddess in her and, although Lucrezia would not like to admit it for the selfish sentiment it held, she missed being revered. Her brother and father had always put her up on a pedestal and having been brought down so abruptly, resulted in an attempt to find someone new to fill that space.
Her dalliance with the stable boy drew on. She felt older than him, acted older than him, but deep inside she knew that he was her only ally and her only chance at protection. As he grew used to her, Paolo began to speak more freely and challenge her to come out of the cold, hard shell that she had created for herself. She tried out different roles, different models of behavior on him. She put on these grown-up personas like a girl puts on different dresses and ribbons for play. But soon these masks became confusing and some of them began to meld with her real face so that she could not longer take them off, and that was frightening. So she allowed herself a little more freedom with him and Paolo allowed her that with far less hesitation than how he accepted her roleplaying. She felt it, even if he never uttered a word.
They were a bad match. Lucrezia must have known that, Paolo must have known that. Yet the more her masks came off, the more she was allowed time to herself after her husband's injury, the farther he crawled into her personal emotional space, the more she found herself to still be more girl than woman. She had longed to love before and now she longed for it again. She was learning how to wear her masks, but then she began to slowly learn how to take them off.
And she loved.
It was strange, but with every day the feeling grew, swelling, bubbling up in her like a fountain. She saw him now not just as a child, not as her plaything, not as a chance at companionship, but as a man she could love. Perhaps, he was more a boy but Lucrezia knew that she was also still a girl, wished she could have remained just as simple and innocent as she had been before her exile to this married life, which was nothing but a noxious burden she was forced to carry. One a coverlet of colorful, late-summer leaves and under the warm kisses of an afternoon sun she could pretend there was no marriage and she could love.
In bed, was the one place where Paolo had far more control than she. Lucrezia knew little of the art of lovemaking – her husband fucked like a wild beast. She even feared that she would no longer want anyone to see her naked, to lay a hand on her bare skin. Yet, her lover's warm hands soothed her like they always did and she surrendered to the feeling. Their lovemaking was such that she would never know again. With her second husband, the few times it happened, she would be detached and with Cesare it would be desperate and lustful and so dark that she would feel whole and broken at the same time. But with Paolo she felt calm and pure and whole.
The point of the act was still lost on her for some time – thoughts of pregnancy were far from her then, although she was not ignorant of its causes – but soon the woman inside her began to awake again. This one was different, however, from the cold mistress she had originally been trying to impersonate and embody. This one was lustful and mature in a way that was hard to impersonate. This was a mask Lucrezia could not simply wear – the process of growing into it was essential. Ecstasy was a thing that came with difficulty to Lucrezia, but it came and she drowned in its embrace.
On the ride back home, before she and Guilia were overtaken by the French, Lucrezia had some time to puzzle out her own transformation. That she had grown was true. But she was not fully developed, fully mature and aware. This would not come for some more time, not until her second marriage, although it would not be the marriage itself that would be the culprit. But for now she remained half-girl, half-woman. Perhaps if her chosen lover had been less a boy and more a man… Yet, Lucrezia would later realize that she was often drawn to men who were more boyish than not, over whom she had some superiority of manner, at least. It would be so with her future husband. Perhaps, this was her attempt at maintaining her former self, the girl who had always been happy and wanted for nothing.
As with most self-reflecting questions, she would never know for sure.
