But by the time he’d come back from his yearlong tour of the provinces, Father had been promoted from organizer of the games to praetor—and I had no chance. Well, I’d get my revenge someday. I always did.

“At least they only took your hair.” Marcus had been properly concerned, and I gave him my most bewitching smile. His eyes softened, and he took my hands. “Lepida, let me make something clear to you,” he said as he sat down beside me. “What happens here is for you to decide. If you want this marriage to be in name only for a while, I understand that.”

“Don’t be silly, Marcus.” I made my voice rich and teasing. “I want to be a proper wife. With children . . .” I embroidered on those themes for a while, and watched his eyes get soft, and as soon as I leaned over and kissed him, well, that was that.

It wasn’t horrifying at all. Nothing to turn anyone’s hair white. Marcus was just what I expected. Gentle. Tender. Considerate. A little too considerate. I don’t want to be treated as if I’m made of glass. I like a little . . . handling. But of course I sighed and gazed up at him adoringly and said he was wonderful, and he never suspected that when I closed my eyes it was because I couldn’t look at his bare crooked shoulder without being disgusted. But it was worth it, because he let me do anything I wanted. Go anywhere I wanted. Spend anything I wanted.

I sighed and ran the silver comb through my hair. What glorious years those were. Marcus trudging off to the Senate every day and me running off to dinner parties every night. Really, sometimes I felt quite fond of Marcus. I hadn’t thought to stay married to him so long—I could easily have moved on to someone younger and handsomer within the year—but I learned fast that a permissive old senator is better than a jealous young soldier.

“You don’t mind if I go out?” I always made sure to ask him every so often. “I do love parties and plays, darling. I’m just not brilliant and intellectual like you.”

“No, you’re young and lovely and utterly charming.” He kissed my cheek. “So go enjoy yourself.” I always thanked him sweetly before whirling off to my round of parties. What parties! Wine and music and handsome men who paid me compliments, men who pressed around my couch and told me I was beautiful, men who wouldn’t have looked at me the year before, but who all wanted me now because I was Lady Lepida Pollia and I had a dozy old husband who let me do whatever I liked, and I’d made myself into the most beautiful woman in Rome.

I learned how to paint my face so I looked elegant rather than provincial. I learned how to knot my stolas carelessly at the shoulder so the silks looked as if they were about to slide off altogether. I learned how to sway and lounge inside those silks. I learned how to laugh with my eyes and promise unspecified delights with my lashes. I learned the drawling court jargon that revealed at once who was in the know and who was not. I learned that my father was considered rather gauche, really, and it was better not to be seen with him by anyone who counted. I learned about the potions one could swallow to prevent children. I learned that a married woman could do anything she pleased as long as her husband didn’t care, or at least didn’t see. Oh, I learned a lot.