Beatrice orchestrated the women to curl my hair and pin it up away from my face. I hadn’t bothered asking about my wedding dress, assuming it would be something beautiful, white, and lace.
I was surprised when Gisella entered my bedroom carrying a purple satin gown without a train.
Purple. A symbol of Roman royalty.
Gisella hung the gown up on the armoire door and then turned to face me. Her dark hair had been schooled into a sleek side ponytail and curled. She wore a rose-colored dress that was feminine and youthful. To think, if my family hadn’t discovered my existence, she would’ve had to marry a man over two decades her senior.
Her gaze dropped to the necklace she’d given me, and she met my eyes. “Raphael wanted me to give you this,” she said, handing me an earring box. I opened it. On black velvet lay a pair of heavy gold chandelier earrings accented with brilliant diamonds. It was another adornment for his soon-to-be trophy wife.
An hour later, I was standing in my bedroom, alone. I looked in the full-length mirror.
A Roman empress.
I’d never wanted to be an empress.
I just wanted to be Hadrian’s.
Thoughts of my own suffering dwindled when I thought of the man I loved.
What happened to you, Hadrian?
The gold earrings were heavy at my ears. My different colored eyes glistened with unshed tears. I only had to be strong a little while longer…
A knock resounded on my door and then it opened. Angelo stepped inside.
I had no father to give me away, to walk me down the aisle and entrust my life to another man. No mother to dab the tears at her eyes as she wept with joy when I said my vows. I was alone on a day that should’ve been one of the happiest of my life.
“It’s time,” he said, and then extended his arm to me.
I glanced at it but didn’t move to take it.
“Sterling,” he said softly. “Come.”
I took his arm reluctantly, the core of my being solidifying in hatred.
Angelo and I left the room and took the stairs before venturing down a long hallway to a set of doors that led outside. Raphael and I would be married outdoors with the scent of the hills and the vineyards surrounding us.
When we stepped into the bright daylight, I could make out Raphael’s tall blond form at the end of the aisle. He stood with Lorenzo next to him. A priest in traditional ceremonial garb waited with them.
A wedding between the Foscari and the Moretti would finally commence. Both families had waited twenty-five years to form an alliance, and there seemed to be a collective holding of breaths that wouldn’t release until the union was complete.
I was surprised to see only about thirty guests sitting in folding chairs on both sides of the aisle. I looked at Angelo inquisitively.
“Why are there so few people here?” I asked. “Isn’t this the wedding of the generation?”
“The wedding is intimate, and only close family from both sides are here. When Raphael takes you to his home after you become his wife, there will be a reception with hundreds of people, full of prominent guests. It’s the way of things.”
I took a bouquet of white and purple roses from Gisella.
A stringed quartet lifted their instruments and began to play a tune I didn’t recognize. Gisella walked down the aisle ahead of me, and when she’d made it to the altar, she took her place across from Raphael’s younger brother.
With a deep breath, I let Angelo guide me down the aisle.
If only the people watching me knew that I was pregnant with Hadrian’s baby…
My gaze remained focused on Raphael. I couldn’t detect any emotion on his expressionless face. He looked solemn and commanding. For once, no cruelty graced his distinguished features.
It was a lie.
Angelo took my hand and placed it in Raphael’s, and then he went to his chair in the front row next to Luca.
The priest began the ceremony, and after a few short minutes of speaking, we all took Communion. We recited our vows, and Raphael’s hands tightened on mine as he slipped a wide gold band onto my finger.
Bringing my knuckles to his lips, he then turned us to face our families, who’d been grave and proper. They suddenly cheered in a decidedly inelegant and highly emotional fashion.
It was done.
I was now Sterling Foscari.
“Now we feast,” Angelo stated, standing up and waving his hand toward the wedding tent and the tables lined with red and purple