“Why, WHY?” Tullia shrieked, banging through the door. “You told the Emperor’s right-hand man to go to Hades—you selfish, selfish, inconsiderate—”

“In future, Tullia,” Cornelia said coldly, “I would rather you didn’t eavesdrop on my marriage proposals.”

“Gaius—!”

“Now, now, I’m sure there’s no harm done.” Gaius tried a coaxing tone. “A man like Fabius Valens isn’t one to be put off by a flighty woman. He’ll be back, and with a proper apology Cornelia can still—”

“No apology,” Cornelia said. “No marriage. No arguments. I will not marry any of Fabius Valens’s thugs, and if he comes back I’ll tell him so again.”

“But you must!” Gaius turned red to match Tullia’s purple. “You know what he said to me on the way out? ‘Keep your women in better order, Senator—’ ”

“You think a man like that won’t be vindictive?” Tullia screeched. “He could cook up charges against us, have our property confiscated—”

“With Diana in such favor with the Emperor, I doubt it,” Cornelia said. But Gaius rode over her.

“You want to ruin this family, Cornelia? These are different times! It’s for me to say who you will marry—”

“Yes, and if you made a proper match for me, I’d consider it!” Cornelia flashed back. “But you’re just shoving me into the bed of some German savage for an Imperial favor or two—no, don’t look at her!” As his eyes crept to Tullia. “I know this was all her idea. But you’re master here, Gaius, not her. Grow a spine!”

“This is all your fault, Gaius!” Tullia rounded on him. “If you hadn’t indulged her in everything she wanted, her and all the rest of your cousins—”

“What’s all the shouting?” Marcella blinked from the doorway, still holding a pen.

“Your sister has refused to marry Fabius Valens’s friend!” Tullia screamed. “Refused!”

Marcella looked at her sister a moment. “Not very wise,” she said at last. “Though I wouldn’t want to marry any of his friends either.” She wrinkled her nose in sympathy and went away again, tucking her pen behind her ear, and Cornelia spared a split second in all the chaos to choke on a wave of pure fury at her sister. She could have used Marcella’s support in all this screaming abuse, Marcella’s comforting arm at her waist and Marcella’s voice backing up hers. Once, Marcella wouldn’t have left her to face it alone—it would have been the two of them, shoulder to shoulder against the storm. But now, if it takes her away from her writing and scheming, it’s too much to ask.