Amara places a hand to her heart in acknowledgment of their compliments but is relieved that Demetrius does not express a desire to meet her child. She is not sure she could bear for Philos to bring her out. “Are you here to visit your estates?”

They sit down together, Julia retreating to the opposite couch where Livia is already reclining. “Among other duties.” He glances at Julia. “It is always a pleasure to see old friends.”

“Will you be staying long in Pompeii?”

“It depends if I’m welcome.” His words are for his hostess, but it is to Amara he directs his answer. She feels the heat go to her face and knows it must look as if she is blushing with pleasure, rather than anxiety.

“As if you even need to ask, you ridiculous man.” Julia flicks her wrist affectionately at Amara. “Darling, would you mind playing something for us? I’m sorry to impose, especially when you’ve only just arrived, but I’ve had the most trying day, and your voice is so relaxing.”

Julia is not even attempting to be subtle, and if she were not under such pressure, Amara might even laugh at the shamelessness. “Of course,” she murmurs, but before she can rise to retrieve her lyre, one of Julia’s servants has brought it to her. At that, Demetrius looks at Amara and raises an eyebrow. There is warmth, not mockery, in his amusement, and in spite of herself, she smiles back.

“I hope you’re not this peremptory with all your guests,” he says to Julia. “I’m damned well not going to start warbling for you. Too many years have passed since I was obliged to sing for my supper.”

Amara glances at him, surprised. Surely Demetrius isn’t referring to his past as a slave? He is reclining expansively on the couch, smiling at Julia and Livia who are curled around each other, contented as a pair of cats. Nothing about his manner suggests a man who just made a shameful confession. Perhaps it was simply an expression, not a sign he was once forced to entertain.

The strings of the lyre are taut under Amara’s fingers as she plucks them, making sure the instrument is in tune. She starts to play Sappho’s hymn to Aphrodite, a song she always performed with Dido and Drusilla, and one she knows so well there is little danger of making any mistakes. To her relief, Demetrius begins chatting with Julia rather than fixing her with his unsettling attention.