Amara thinks of her friends, of Dido and Victoria. She knows there are many women like her, but they are rarely afforded the compassion Rufus gives her. “You have already been generous to me,” she says. “You listen. You protect me, even when we are not together.”

“This is why I love you,” he says, kissing her again. Then he props himself up on an elbow, and leans over his side of the cushions, searching for something underneath the couch. He hands her a wooden box, his face expectant like a small boy.

“What’s this?”

“Open it, open it!”

Amara does as she is told. Inside is a silver necklace with an amber pendant. For a moment, she is too stunned to speak. “It’s beautiful!”

Rufus helps her fasten the clasp. “It does look very lovely on you, I must say.” He is extremely pleased with his choice. “It’s from my family’s own business. I got one of our best craftsmen to work on it.”

Amara has seen the jewelry store and gem-cutting workshops that surround Rufus’s house; she sneaked past one morning with Dido to have a look. She touches the smooth drop of resin at her neck. Amber makes her think of Marcella, of the necklace she and Fulvia brought to the Forum, but she pushes the unhappy women from her mind. “It’s the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me,” she says. “But my darling, I cannot take it with me. My master would never let me keep it.”

“But this is a personal gift!” Rufus says, outraged. “He would have no right.”

“I will wear it whenever we are together,” she replies, putting her hand over his to reassure him. “You can keep it safe for me, here. It will remind you that I am always waiting for you.”

“But what about you? What will you have to make you think of me.”

Amara looks at him, her lover with all his wealth, his endlessly sociable life, and she can see that he is genuinely worried she might forget him, as if she could do anything other than count the hours in Felix’s storeroom until she sees him again. “I know!” she says. “You can buy me some cheap glass beads, wooden even, that I will wear as a bracelet. Felix would never bother with that, but it would remind me of your love whenever I saw it.”

“It is romantic,” Rufus says, somewhat mollified. “Though it will make me look abominably tight if you go around telling your friends that’s all your boyfriend has given you. Particularly if they know about my family’s business!”

“I promise I won’t,” Amara says, amused that he might fear a poor reputation among the whores of the town brothel. Unless he imagines she has other, classier friends.

“Will he try to stop you seeing me,” Rufus asks her. “Your master? If he thinks you care for me?”