It is impossible to judge Drusilla, not when her remarks are so similar to Amara’s own private calculations. But Amara also knows this is not all she wants, that it’s not enough. Instead, she thinks of the man she loves, who at this moment is dressed in a shabby tunic, hard at work in a shop whose profits he will never own, taking orders from a man who will never pay him. Shame burns in her chest, knowing how much she would hate her love to be exposed to Drusilla, yet at the same time, loving Philos so deeply she wants to defend him, even if it’s only to herself. “You are always right,” Amara says, with a cold smile. “There is nothing else a woman could possibly want from a man.”

The house is almost empty when she returns. Victoria, Lais and Phoebe are at the baths, and Juventus is unable to tell her where Britannica might be. The Briton never bothers to report her movements. Amara heads upstairs to her study. The conversation with Drusilla has made her eager to go over her accounts, to see whether she might be able to make more money renting out her women, or how much she can afford to lend to new clients. If she is not going to rely on a wealthy patron, if instead, she might manage to find a way of freeing Philos, she needs to earn as much as possible.

It is not a surprise when Philos himself visits her a little later, since he often helps plan her financial affairs, but she is startled when he shuts the door behind him and locks it.

Amara stands up. “What are you doing?” They have an agreement never to risk being intimate in the day. Philos puts his finger to his lips. He looks agitated, in a way she cannot place. He walks over to her, so they are standing close together by the desk.

“He wants me to spy on you.”

“Rufus?”

Philos nods. “He’s convinced you might be plotting to leave him for Pliny, or if not Pliny, then for some other wealthy man you met at Misenum. I’ve been ordered to trail your every move, note down who calls on you and who you see, and to stay here at the house more often.”

“You don’t think he suspects us?” Amara is unable to believe that her patron is colluding in his own betrayal. “We should be careful in case he wants to turn up and catch us out.”

“I’ve known Rufus a long time,” Philos replies. “I promise you, there is absolutely no possibility he suspects me.”

Relief makes her giddy. She puts her hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh. “Then we’re safe?”

“For now.”