" {Calpurnia)" My mother…she’s desperate for a daughter she can dress like a porcelain doll. Sadly, I shall never be such a child. How I long for my sister to come out and distract the countess from my person." He joined her on the bench, asking, " How old is your sister?" " 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. "