Pia was so altered. She seemed so cold, even now in complete privacy after Sebastian had pulled the curtains and alerted the coachmen and postilions they were not to be disturbed. She reached a shaking hand to Pia’s pale cheek and watched in silent misery as her lover closed her eyes in disgust, as if Pia must force herself to withstand Anna’s touch. “Did I mean so little to you?” Anna whispered, a helpless tear escaping from one eye. The pain of Pia’s rejection was ripping her apart. “You cannot even look at me? You are so changed.” Pia—finally, the stubborn loving woman Anna knew—lashed out at her. “So little? Changed? I? It is you who is changed, in your fine clothes and your gaudy shackles—” Pia must then have remembered her new master sitting a few feet away. She lowered her voice and said to the floorboards, “I am sorry, my lord. I must endeavor to be more respectful to my lady.” “Mustn’t we all,”
