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Klaudia and I remained in the garden.

“Well, this is what you’ve been trained your whole life for, isn’t it?” she asked. “Making conversation at a dinner party?”

I let the silky fabric of the dress run through my fingers. “Dinner-table conversation. My entire life’s work.”

“Oh, come on. I’m teasing. But you are good at it, from what I remember. Not like me—I can’t bear the stupid things women are expected to talk about.” She nodded in the direction of Sebastianus’s study. “I think you give him a lift. He smiles more when you’re around.”

“What are you talking about? He never smiles.”

“All right. He frowns less.” She laughed. “Do you need help getting ready? Cornelia seems occupied.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not.”

We carried the new dress up to my bedroom. Light from the setting sun shone on the wooden floor, the thick rug, the soft blankets, and the large wardrobe in the corner, which had gradually filled with clothing during my few weeks at the villa.

I undressed down to my linen tunic and began to brush my hair.

Klaudia sat on the bed and looked around. “You don’t sleep in his room.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I was suddenly embarrassed. “Why would I? I don’t think he cares for me in that way. We’ve never— He’s never given me the impression that he wants that.”

She stared at me, incredulous. “He never takes his eyes off you.”

Heat rushed to my temples at the memory of his lips on my collarbone, the weight of his arm around me, his rough voice referring to me as a temptation. And yet, compared to what another man might have done, he had kept his distance.

“I—I don’t know.”

“He paid a fortune to get you out of Casa Caligine. A staggering sum. I can’t imagine he doesn’t care for you.”

I dropped the brush with a clatter. “How do you know that? How much he paid?”

She looked taken aback. “He told me.”

“He told you the specific figure?”

“Well, yes. But—”

“Does everyone know?”

“Don knows, but that’s it, I think. Anna, I—”

I grabbed the brush again and jerked at the tangles left in my hair. Anger tightened my chest. “It makes me feel like a rare vase or an expensive piece of jewelry. An unusual item you can purchase, and everyone knows the price. As though I’m not an equal to others here.” There it was—a feeling I had carried with me since leaving Corlivo, but which I had not been able to find the words to articulate.

“Let me help with that.” Klaudia took the brush and began to tease the knot apart gently. “I’m sorry. I said it all wrong. I was only trying to illustrate how fond of you I think he is. I’m sure he doesn’t think of you as an object. I certainly don’t think of you that way. You’re unique and clever and resilient. Easily the equal of anyone I’ve ever met.”

The feel of the brush on my scalp was soothing. I exhaled, trying to relax. “My friend Kyra and I used to do this for each other when we were little.”

“I’m so sorry about what happened to her,” Klaudia said quietly. “I’ve never properly said that before. An overdose, Don said?”

“Yes. She had been taking a drug to help her sleep—and, I think, because she was afraid. The medicus lied about it, but I know what happened.”

The brush moved smoothly through my hair. Klaudia put it down with a wistful smile.