Page 11

Present day

A fter Felix stomped off, Lucretia attempted to return to work, but the encounter lingered in her mind. She took a deep breath, inhaling the traces of the scent he’d left behind, something herbal and fragrant that clung to his clothing. Perhaps thyme, or sage?

She had never seen him so ruffled. Usually, he was the very picture of cold equanimity. But perhaps that was only when he had the upper hand. All it took was one little incursion into his affairs to rattle him. She allowed herself a smile at the memory of it.

But in that moment at the end of their conversation, it seemed that something other than annoyance flustered him. His pale skin had flushed, and heat sparked in his gray eyes.

An answering thrill, strange and unbidden, lit in her own belly.

Her mind flashed back to that evening five years ago when he had propositioned her, somehow bumbling and aloof at the same time.

His interest then had been evident but restrained.

She was no stranger to men noticing her, and there was no harm in enjoying some light flirtation.

But she didn’t wish to engage in adultery, so Felix’s advance had been easy to refuse.

She couldn’t deny his appeal, with his dark hair, lean body, and sharply chiseled features, but she found him too withdrawn for her liking.

Yes, he observed all the niceties at social occasions, but there was something distant in his manner that suggested he had no true interest in the people he engaged with.

Today, however, his remote facade had cracked—just a bit, but enough to spark thoughts of what might have been. What if she had, hypothetically, accepted his austere attempt at seduction? Would bedding him have burned away his coldness, stripped off his dispassion?

Before she could dwell on such thoughts, Dihya poked her head into the office. “ He was in a good mood.” Smug sarcasm edged her words. “I take it your plan worked?” Lucretia had told Dihya of her intention to hold up Felix’s cargo.

Lucretia smirked. “Indeed. Speaking of plans—I talked to Caeso this morning.”

Dihya came toward Lucretia’s desk, fingers twisting a fold of her dress. “And?”

“I believe it was a genuine miscommunication,” Lucretia said. “He was quite apologetic, and he feared he’d upset Tadla as well.”

Dihya waved a hand. “I didn’t tell her exactly what happened, but she was relieved to hear that he won’t be coming to court her again.”

“He wishes to apologize face to face. I told him I would see if you were amenable.” Lucretia paused. “Personally, I think you should let him do more than apologize.”

A flush darkened Dihya’s golden skin. “Are you sure? I mean—is it quite proper?”

“Who cares about proper?” Lucretia said with a laugh. “You’re unattached, and there is a young, handsome man who desires you. A great deal, from what I gather.” She grinned. “He said you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.”

Dihya’s flush intensified, and she mumbled a denial.

“I’m not saying you need to marry him,” Lucretia continued, “but don’t turn your back on this opportunity.”

Dihya glanced down. Her thumb brushed the finger on her left hand where her wedding ring used to sit.

Lucretia’s own ring finger tingled in sympathy.

For months after Cornelius’s death, her hand had felt empty without the ring.

She used to feel jolts of worry that she’d lost it somewhere, until she remembered that it was sitting in the jewelry box in her bedroom, never to be worn again.

“I never imagined…being with anyone else.” Dihya lowered her voice, as if speaking of something forbidden, and sat heavily in the chair opposite Lucretia’s desk.

Lucretia reached across to take her hand.

“I understand, of course. But your husband wouldn’t want you to be alone forever, would he?

” Lucretia didn’t know much about Dihya’s relationship with her late husband, but it had always seemed like a practical match, in which the two respected each other, at least.

Dihya gave her a half-smile. “If I was the one who died, I’m certain Severus would be married again by now.”

Lucretia chuckled. “Yes, men do seem to need a wife more than women need a husband, don’t they?”

Dihya lifted her eyes skyward in exasperation. “They are rather hopeless. What about yourself, Lucretia? If there was someone interested, would you pursue it?”

Lucretia considered for a moment. Perhaps she was being hypocritical by urging Dihya toward a flirtation, when like Dihya she had never truly considered what it would be like to be with someone else.

“I think I would,” she finally said. “I’ll never marry again, but I wouldn’t deny myself a… pleasurable dalliance.”

Dihya raised an eyebrow. “Does that apply to Lucius Avitus Felix?”

“Felix!” Lucretia exclaimed. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Dihya glanced toward the door. “I overheard your conversation. And I see the way he looks at you. The man is desperate for you. I half-expected him to try to take you atop your desk.”

Those words sent a flood of unsettling images through Lucretia’s mind. Papers fluttering to the floor, the splash and clatter of an overturned inkwell, a lean body pressing her into the hard surface of the desk…“I would never—with him!”

“Of course not,” Dihya said. “But if you ever did decide that you desired a pleasurable dalliance …I think you’d find a willing participant without much effort.”

Lucretia shot her friend a glare. “Enough of this. I must return home. I want to meet Marcus when he gets home from school. See you tomorrow.”

She bid Dihya a hasty goodbye, gathered up her things, and left the office, trying not to feel like she was fleeing an uncomfortable conversation.

She had timed her departure well, for she arrived home just before Marcus.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she greeted him in the atrium. “How was school today?” At least today, he didn’t look as if he’d been in a fight. And no further money had gone missing from her accounts.

He grunted something unintelligible and turned toward his room.

Lucretia took a hasty step forward, desperate to recapture his attention.

“Would you like to attend the games tomorrow? I hear there should be an interesting fight.” Lucretia herself had little interest in gladiatorial combat, but for some reason it was the sort of thing young men enjoyed.

Cornelius used to take Marcus regularly, but it had been a long time since Lucretia did anything with her son, just the two of them.

Marcus sidled away from her. “I was going to go with my friends.”

”Oh.” Disappointment welled up, but she smiled. “Well, have fun. You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”

Marcus retreated to his bedroom, and this time, Lucretia didn’t try to stop him.

Felix pushed a cup of wine and a plate of figs and cheese toward Siro, recently returned from his travels to Spoletium. “What have you learned?”

Siro, still dusty from the road, took a long sip of wine.

“I spent several days asking around at all of the estates surrounding Spoletium, seeing if anyone could direct me to Manilius Cotta. A few people recognized the name but weren’t sure where to find him.

Finally, I found someone who directed me to an estate, but it was empty apart from a few slaves.

They told me the master was traveling and they weren’t sure when he would return.

I thought of staying, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take, and I knew you would be eager for news.

Your family was most hospitable but I didn’t wish to overstay my welcome. ”

Felix nodded. “Thank you. Perhaps another trip is in order. And perhaps I should go myself. This matter may require some delicacy, and besides, I owe my parents a visit.”

“Your parents did mention when I saw them that they were quite eager to see you, sir,” Siro said. “Would you like me to identify some suitable dates?”

The matter was important, but not critical, and Felix was expecting some shipments in the coming weeks that he wanted to be in Ostia to oversee—especially to make sure that Lucretia didn’t try to meddle with his cargo again. “Leave it with me. I’ll arrange it when the time is right.”

A touch of guilt itched at him; forcing Lucretia to surrender her business by convincing her guardian to withdraw his consent still didn’t quite feel fair. But the law was the law, he reasoned, and pushed the guilt aside.