Every night Cornelia made herself think of it, every grinding detail of humiliation and disgrace and death, until she dropped off to an exhausted sleep. I’ll come to my senses in the morning. I’ll realize what a fool I’m being. But then morning came and a slave brought a plate of breakfast fruit and eggs, and before Cornelia even rose from her bed she was planning how soon she could get out of the house to see Drusus.

“Coming every day now, Lady?” The raddled madam of the Subura whorehouse raised her painted eyebrows as Cornelia slipped into the hall. “My, my. That boy must be doing something right. You make more noise than any of my whores.”

Cornelia drew herself up with a freezing glare, but the madam chuckled unafraid. “Don’t play the great lady with me. You’re here for the same thing they are.” She gestured at the men who slipped in and out of the little curtained niches, grabbing at the whores, hitching their belts. “Only difference is, that boy back there is too addled to make you pay for it.”

“Now there’s an idea,” said Drusus when Cornelia reported this in sputtering rage. “Should I start charging you, Lady? How much?”

“Maybe I should charge you!” Cornelia wriggled away from him, but he flung her back down on the bed. She struggled but he pinned her easily, grinning. “At least you could pay for all those hired litters I have to take getting down here,” she informed him.

“Can’t I pay you in services rendered?” He pried her arms apart, setting his mouth at the base of her throat.

“Not on my neck!” Cornelia broke down laughing. “I’m getting marks—Lollia’s bound to notice soon.”

“Lollia’s the one who loves horses?”

“No, that’s Diana. She wouldn’t notice a mark on anyone’s neck, unless it was one of her precious Anemoi. But Lollia’s got sharp eyes.”

“So I’ll stay away from your neck for a while,” Drusus murmured against her waist. “Too bad, it’s such a pretty neck . . .”

He knew all about her family now. Sweating, too hot in the airless little room even for a sheet, they lay naked on the narrow bed that sank in the middle and talked. “What about your family?” Cornelia asked, propping her chin on her hand.

“I grew up in Toscana.” He linked his hands behind his head on the pillow. “My father ran a wine shop. A good wine shop,” Drusus added rather defensively. “He was able to buy entrance to the equestrian class three years ago.”

“Equestrian class?” Cornelia smiled. “Oh, good.”

“Better than bedding a pleb?” He pinched her hip gently.