“I’ll leave tomorrow.” Paulinus felt a tortured thrust of eagerness. “As soon as I speak to Centurion Densus—”

“I’ll arrange it.”

“Then—then I’ll leave now.”

“I think you should.”

“Oh, gods, Father—” Paulinus’s voice cracked. He tried to force out the words I’m sorry, but it was so hopelessly inadequate. He stared at his father, standing so gray and bent in the hall, and tried to keep from weeping.

LEPIDA

IT was a good hour before I heard my husband’s hesitant footstep outside my door. “Come in, Marcus,” I called out, picking through a dish of candies. “The sooner we get this over with the sooner I can get some sleep.”

He limped in, old and shabby and broken as one of Sabina’s decrepit old dolls. He managed to look me in the eye, but the lines about his mouth had reappeared.

“You’re late,” I greeted him.

“Putting my daughter to bed.”

I smiled sweetly, popping three little candies into my mouth. Let him make the opening gambit.

“Are you in love with my son, Lepida?”

I stared. “What?” Of all the opening gambits I’d expected . . .

“Phaedre loved Hippolytus.” Marcus seated himself wearily on my blue silk couch. “I doubted you had any such feelings, but it’s best to eliminate all possibilities.”

“You’re such a romantic, darling. In love with Paulinus? Don’t be absurd. Who’s Phaedre?”

“No one you know.”

“Your Paulinus was terribly amusing, but he’s far too much like you for comfort. Well, in some ways, that is.” I shook my hair back so Marcus could see the marks Paulinus’s mouth had left on my throat.

He closed his eyes. “If you’ll allow me another silly question, Lepida? Not an original one, I’m afraid. Just ‘why?’ ”

“Isn’t it obvious? If you hadn’t been so tiresome about taking me back to Rome—”

“Ah.” He rubbed the high bridge of his nose. “I should have known. I presume you’ll divorce me, then?”

“Why would I want that?”

“Why else would you put on that charming little spectacle upstairs?”

“Just to teach you a lesson, Marcus. You did deserve one, didn’t you? After swooping me out of Rome just when I caught the Emperor’s eye—”

“The Emperor.” He actually laughed. “Catch him with my blessing, Lepida.”

“Oh, I intend to. But I can hardly catch myself a lover unless I’ve got a husband, can I? Men don’t like unattached mistresses.”

“Get another husband. I’ll return your dowry; you could marry anyone you liked.”

“Could I? When I’m just a middle-class rich girl back in my father’s house? The best I could catch the first time around was you, and then I was a virgin.”

“I’m afraid that’s your problem, Lepida.” He looked at me coolly. “I won’t have you in the same house as my daughter.”

“Your daughter? How can you be sure, when I was entertaining every worthy Roman citizen in the city behind your back?”

“Oh, Sabina’s mine. You’re a creature of society, Lepida, and society says that the whoring doesn’t start until the children are born.”