Lollia kissed them out the door, and Cornelia took her husband’s arm. She turned to wave her sister and cousin into the dark and saw Diana toss the wedding torch into the gutter.

“A very good wedding.” Piso raised a hand, and one of the hovering slaves dashed forward to beckon their litter. “An older man will steady Lollia, I’m sure.”

“He won’t have her long enough to steady her.” The litter approached; Cornelia accepted her husband’s hand in and drew the rose-silk curtains against the garish yellow glow of the streetlamps. “Lollia’s grandfather will have her divorced and married to someone else the minute Senator Vinius ceases to be of use.”

Piso gave the litter a tap, and it rose swaying on the backs of six Gauls and went trotting into the night. The curtains fluttered, and a wedge of yellow lamplight cut across his aquiline nose and square jaw. Cornelia smiled. Her husband smiled back, moving from one side of the litter to the other to settle his arm about her, and she could feel the litter-bearers hitching below to accommodate the shifted weight.

“I went to the temple of Juno today,” Cornelia found herself saying against Piso’s shoulder as the litter jogged into the night.

“You did?” Had he tensed?

“Yes. I had a sow sacrificed. I think it will do better than a goose.”

“You know best, my dear.” Eight years of marriage, and he had never uttered one word of reproach for her failure to provide him with children.

Sometimes I wish he would.

“So Diana caught the bridal torch,” Cornelia said brightly. “She’ll be our next bride.”

“They’ll have a job forcing that one into a red veil,” Piso laughed. “Lollia will be on her fourth husband before they get Diana to her first.”

“Lollia thinks husbands are like new gowns.” The litter jolted to a halt; Cornelia saw the flickering torches before their front gate and gathered her skirts as Piso stepped down. “Just get a new one every season, and throw out the old.”

“She’s one of the new wives.” Piso gave his arm to hand her out of the litter. “There are not so many of the classic sort, my dear.”