He smiled. “Why, then I’ll bring you home. I did before, didn’t I?”

“You did.” For a moment she stood still, cheek against his hand, before she turned away and picked up her amber-brown palla. “Well, I’m ready.”

“Brave girl.”

“Calpurnia!” Paulinus bounded through the door, a flash of gold and scarlet in his formal Praetorian’s uniform, and kissed his betrothed’s cheek. “Father! Are you well?” To Marcus’s surprise, he offered a hug instead of the usual awkward handclasp.

“I’m very well.” Marcus looked at his son. “So are you, I gather.”

A cool voice came down from the stairs above. “Paulinus. How little we’ve seen of you these days.” Lepida drifted down to join them, a bird of paradise in her gold-spangled scarlet silk, her hair caught in a net of rubies and pearls.

“Lady Lepida.” He bowed. “You look nice.”

“ ‘You look nice’? You ignore us all for a week and now you expect us to—” Lepida’s icy words dropped off as Paulinus stepped around her and took the stairs two at a time to grab up his little sister as she poked her head around the door of her bedroom.

“Now here’s the lady I’ve been ignoring!” He ruffled her feather-brown hair. “How are those headaches, ’Bina?”

“Better. And I’ve grown a whole inch.”

“So I see.” Paulinus set her down, and she giggled. “I’ll have to take advantage of your company before I lose you to adoring suitors. Let’s go riding tomorrow. Your crazy aunt Diana has a mare quiet enough for you—”

“I hate to break up this touching moment.” Lepida’s peacock feather fan twitched back and forth like a cat’s tail. “But we’re going to be late.”

“Let me check Father first—”

“I checked him for you,” said Calpurnia. “Do you think I’d let him go see the Emperor in rumpled linen?”

“Back to bed.” Lepida took her daughter by the shoulder and spun her back toward her room. “It doesn’t matter what your father wears to see the Emperor. Because whether his ancestors used to be Emperors or not, he’s just a boring old cripple.”

Sabina flinched. Disgust flickered across Paulinus’s face.

Marcus shrugged. Just wait, he thought to his wife. Just you wait. “Go to bed, little one,” he told his daughter.

“Well!” Lepida adjusted her gold silk veil over her hair as her daughter disappeared into her room. “Can we go now?”

Calpurnia looked down, aligning a bracelet precisely over her wrist. “Lepida,” she said, “has anyone ever told you that you’re a cruel, spiteful, selfish slut?”

Marcus blinked. Lepida’s mouth dropped unattractively open.

“You’re vicious. You’re unprincipled. You mistreat your slaves and abuse your daughter—”

“Well.” Lepida regrouped. “You’re just a jealous—”

“And furthermore you’re the worst, most neglectful, most criminal wife in Rome.” Calpurnia looked at Marcus. “I think we can go now.”

Paulinus stifled something that could have been a cough, and Marcus did more than smile. He found himself grinning, ear to ear, as he had not grinned in a long time. “Yes,” he agreed. “I believe we’re all ready.”