“Yes, Lady.” Titus’s housekeeper gave Faustina a speculative glance from piled blond hair to rose-pink hem. “Come along, girls.”

Faustina turned back to Titus as the door of the study closed. “I promised Bassus we’d have privacy for this.”

“Bassus?” Titus scrutinized the freedman who had edged into the room behind Faustina’s maids and now stood looking nervous and cornered. “Is this our thief?”

The man looked indignant. “See here, Lady Faustina never said anything about being accused—”

“No one’s accusing you of anything.” Faustina gave his shoulder a cajoling pat, leading him to a chair. “Just sit a moment, will you, while I talk to Titus Aurelius?”

“I knew this would happen,” the man muttered. An Imperial freedman, Titus judged from the neat toga and ink-stained hands. A young secretary from Greece, perhaps, making a living off tidy handwriting and a knowledge of languages. “Open my mouth, and soon I’m the one with my hands nailed on a board for being a thief—why did I ever listen to you, Lady?” the man wailed.

“No one’s nailing anyone’s hands anywhere,” Faustina soothed, and dragged Titus off to the opposite corner. “Try not to make him nervous,” she whispered. “I had a demon of a time getting him here at all.”

“If he’s not our thief, then who is he?” Titus lowered his own voice.

“Well.” Faustina cleared her throat as if preparing an oration. “We thought your thief might be a steward or official in the Imperial household, someone with access and oversight, but I knew you hadn’t had any luck finding out who.”

“No, not much.” Every trail Titus had followed over the past months seemed to lead to a tablet that had just gone missing from the public archives, or a surveyor who had just been transferred to Africa. Or an official who went red-faced and tight-lipped and refused to say a word even after Titus offered gold. “I feel like keeping my head on my shoulders, thank you,” one fat little praetor had told Titus shortly, and left without waiting to be excused. The trail had gone inexplicably cold.

“So,” Faustina said, off-hand, “I thought, why not go to the source?”

Titus eyed her in growing trepidation. He looked at Bassus, then back to Faustina. “What did you do?”

Ennia reappeared with a knock, making the freedman jump nervously in his chair. “Cold mulberry infusions,” she announced, handing Faustina three chilled goblets. “Make sure Dominus drinks his, Lady. Healthful on a hot day like this. Dominus, I’ve canceled your afternoon session with the Aurelii clients.”

“You didn’t have to—”

“Take all the time you need,” Ennia interrupted, and thumped out emphatically.

“I like her.” Faustina looked after Titus’s housekeeper, speculative. “Is she your mistress?”

Titus spluttered. “Now, really—”