“You’re so fond of him?” The Emperor raised skeptical brows at Marcella. Meanwhile, the languid actress from the Theatre of Marcellus rose to tell the now-beaming Quintus Numerius that she would declaim the last portion of his marvelous treatise herself.

“I don’t care for my husband in the slightest,” Marcella said frankly. “But I care even less for living with my sister-in-law. Make Lucius the Imperial Manure-Shoveler in your stables if you like—just so long as he has a house of his own and can move me into it before I murder my brother’s wife.”

Otho burst out laughing again, drawing eager glances from his cronies, who were always on the lookout for the Emperor’s new whim. “There are easier ways to escape a meddling sister-in-law. Not to mention a boring husband.”

Marcella looked at him. He leaned negligently in his chair, black curls carelessly tousled, his arm just brushing hers. “Such as?”

“I could find you another husband easily enough.”

“As long as he comes with a household of his own, the one I have suits me well enough.” Lucius at least allowed her to lead her own life—better that than some new man who expected a domestic goddess or tireless hostess.

“Perhaps your husband might be persuaded to share?” Otho drew a finger down Marcella’s cheek to the curve of her neck. “Nero spoke highly of you, and whatever you say of Nero, you can’t say he didn’t have exquisite taste. He fancied my own wife once, and all Rome knows that didn’t end well, but I could hardly blame him for thinking her lovely. You are lovely too, my dear—and I must say, as much as I admire that clever brain, your breasts could bring whole legions to revolt.”

Marcella smiled but moved back. “I’ve already been one emperor’s whim, Caesar. It didn’t suit me.”

The reading was over now, their host standing smug and smiling amid a circle of well-wishers who had not listened to a word he said and were now mostly tipsy.

“Don’t judge by the purple cloak, my dear.” Otho trailed two fingers along her wrist—to the evident fury of Domitian in the seat behind, Marcella noticed. “Judge by the man inside it.”

“One Emperor was enough for me.”

“Perhaps I can change your mind someday.” But the Emperor withdrew his hand from her wrist, rising with a good-natured nod. “Lovely to speak with you this afternoon, Lady Marcella.”

“Is that why you came here, Caesar? I doubt it was the pleasure of the reading.”

“I find my pleasure wherever I can.”

“A pity you had to find it here.” Marcella adopted his light tones. “Since you showed up to applaud this very dull treatise, it’s sure to be a huge success. And Rome has quite enough bad literature already.”

CORNELIA, you must come to dinner.” Tullia’s aggrieved voice came clearly through the door.