“Eight,” she said mournfully.
“Ah. Not ideal.”
“An understatement.” She looked up at the star-filled sky. “No, I shall be long on the shelf by the time she makes her debut.”
“What makes you so certain you’re shelf-bound?”
She cast him a sidelong glance. “While I appreciate your chivalry, my lord, your feigned ignorance insults us both.” When he failed to reply, she stared down at her hands and replied, “My choices are rather limited.”
“How so?”
“I seem able to have my pick of the impoverished, the aged, and the deadly dull,” she said, ticking the categories off on her fingers as she spoke.
He chuckled. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“Oh, it’s true. I’m not the type of young lady who brings gentlemen to heel. Anyone with eyes can see that.”
“I have eyes. And I see no such thing.” His voice lowered, soft and rich as velvet as he reached out to stroke her cheek. Her breath caught and she wondered at the intense wave of awareness coursing through her.
She leaned into his caress, unable to resist, as he moved his hand to grasp her chin. “What is your name?” he asked softly.
She winced, knowing what was to come. “Calpurnia.” She closed her eyes again, embarrassed by the extravagant name—a name with which no one but a hopelessly romantic mother with an unhealthy obsession with Shakespeare would have considered saddling a child.
“Calpurnia.” He tested the name on his tongue. “As in, Caesar’s wife?”
The blush flared higher as she nodded. “The very same.”
He smiled. “I must make it a point to better acquaint myself with your parents. That is a bold name, to be sure.”
“It’s a horrible name.”
“Nonsense. Calpurnia was Empress of Rome—strong and beautiful and smarter than the men who surrounded her. She saw the future. She stood strong in the face of her husband’s assassination. She is a marvelous namesake.” He shook her chin firmly as he spoke. “It is a name to be lived up to. And I think you are well able to do so, if only you would attempt it.”
She was speechless in the wake of his frank lecture. Before she had a chance to reply, he continued. “Now, I must take my leave. And you, Lady Calpurnia, must return to the ballroom, head held high. Do you think you can do that?” He gave her chin a final tap and stood, leaving her cold in the wake of his departure.
She stood with him and nodded, starry-eyed. “Yes, my lord.”
“Good girl.” He leaned closer and whispered, his breath fanning the hair at her nape and sending a thrill through her, warming her in the cool April night. “Remember, you are an empress. Behave as one and they will have no choice but to see you as such. I already do…” He paused, and she held her breath, waiting for his words. “Your Highness.”
And with that, he was off, disappearing deeper into the maze and leaving Callie with a silly grin on her face. She did not think twice before following him, so keen she was to be near him. At that moment, she would have followed him anywhere, this prince among men who had noticed her, not her dowry or her horrible dress, but her!
If I am an empress, he is the only man worthy enough to be my emperor.
She did not have to go far to catch him. Several yards in, the maze opened on a clearing that featured a large, gleaming fountain adorned with cherubs. There, bathed in a silvery glow was her prince, all broad shoulders and long legs. Callie held her breath at the sight of him—exquisite, as though he himself had been carved from marble.
And then she noticed the woman in his arms. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp, her hand flying to her lips as her eyes widened. In all her seventeen years she’d never witnessed something so…wonderfully scandalous.
The moonlight cast his paramour in an aethereal glow, her blond hair turned white, her pale gown gossamer in the darkness. Callie stepped back into the shadows, peering around the corner of the hedge, half wishing she hadn’t followed, entirely unable to turn away from their embrace. My, how they kissed.
And in the deep pit of her stomach, youthful surprise was replaced with a slow burn of jealousy, for she had never in all her life wanted to be someone else so very much. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it was she in his arms: her long, delicate fingers threading through his dark, gleaming hair; her lithe body that his strong hands stroked and molded; her lips he nibbled; her moans coursing through the night air at his caresses.