“She’s ill,” Lollia said. “Anybody would be, living in Old Flaccid’s house. I plan to be sick myself as soon as Thrax arrives—lots of headaches to keep me in bed, but I won’t be alone there—”

“Flavia’s ill?” Cornelia halted. “What’s wrong with her? Have you summoned the doctor?”

“Oh, she just has a cough. My maids are watching her every minute.”

“Why aren’t you watching her yourself?”

“I read to her every morning. What else can I do?” Lollia blinked. “The slaves know how to look after her much better than I do.”

“If Flavia were my child, I wouldn’t leave her to the care of slaves! A child should be raised by her mother—”

Lollia laughed. “Not one of us was raised by our mother, Cornelia. You, Marcella, Diana, me—all of us were brought up by slaves. And we turned out well enough.”

“Our mothers all died young, Lollia. I don’t see why Flavia should have to—”

“And I don’t see why it’s any of your business. Flavia isn’t your child.”

“Maybe she should be!” All at once Cornelia’s temper snapped. “Your daughter lies ill, and you’re out buying a pet stud!”

“And maybe if I loan him to you, you might get a child instead of envying me mine,” Lollia flared. “Because your husband clearly isn’t getting it done.”

“Don’t you dare say a word about my husband!” Cornelia rounded on her cousin in the middle of the atrium.

“Oh, he’s such a catch?” Lollia’s voice turned acid. “He turns up his nose at my grandfather every time they meet, and so do you! Just because he’s slave-born and believes in working for a living, making all that nasty money the whole family likes to borrow. Your Piso certainly doesn’t turn up his nose at that.”

“You’re jealous,” Cornelia snapped. “Just because my husband will be Galba’s heir—”

“Yes, and you can look down on me even more once you’re the Empress.” Lollia planted fists on hips, glaring. “Don’t think I never see you and Marcella smiling behind my back when I talk! You two always looked down on me, and Diana too—”

“Well, why not?” Cornelia demanded. “Why shouldn’t we look down on the pair of you? A girl who runs around like a common slave, and a girl who sleeps with them!”

“Maybe you should try it. Have you ever had a good screw?”

“My husband adores me!”

“Well, that’s certainly fatal. Adoration doesn’t make for good lovers, Cornelia. Why don’t you go back into that auction room and buy yourself some hulking Greek with a cock like an ox, just to see what you’re missing?”