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“She’s not a Vestal Virgin!” Felix spluttered, before realizing his mother was chuckling.

Maximus guffawed too, which nettled Felix to his core.

“So there is someone,” Mother said smugly.

“There’s a girl?” Herminia piped up from where she and Fulvius enjoyed their dinner across the table. “Now this is exciting. Fulvius, Lucius has a girl!”

“Praise Juno.” Fulvius lifted his wine cup skyward and drank deep.

Felix shot them all a glare without any real heat. “I don’t have a girl .” He let out a resigned sigh. “If you must know, there is a widow of my acquaintance whom I…admire deeply. From a distance.” His family didn’t need to know that lately, “from a distance” meant face-deep in Lucretia’s quim.

“Admire deeply,” Herminia murmured, a jubilant light in her eyes.

“From a distance?” Mother demanded. “If you like her, and she’s widowed, why not pursue her?”

“It’s not that simple,” Felix muttered.

Maximus nudged Felix’s mother with his shoulder. “Widows make excellent prospects, you know.”

Fulvius and Herminia chortled. Felix glowered into his wine cup and refused to say another word.

After dinner, Felix retreated to his room to prepare for bed, wearied from his travels to the late Manilius Cotta’s estate and the revelations of the last two days.

A soft knock came at his door. “Lucius?”

His mother’s voice. “Come in,” he called.

She slipped into the room, closing the door behind her. “I hope we weren’t too intrusive earlier. About your personal affairs.”

Felix gave her a placatory smile as he searched for a fresh tunic to wear to bed. “It was no more than I expected. Probably what I deserve, having been absent for so long.”

She returned his smile. “You seem…somewhat different these days. Max noticed it too.”

Different? “I did pick up a bit of a tan on my journey here, if that’s what you’re referring to.”

“No, it’s not that.” She sat on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to her.

He came to sit beside her. Their shoulders brushed, and he was reminded of the days of his youth when she occasionally observed his lessons, sitting beside him as his tutor quizzed him on this or that.

He’d always been driven to impress her, and her smile or words of praise would buoy him for the rest of the day.

“There is a certain softness about you,” she continued. “An ease that I haven’t noticed in a long time. Since…” Her voice trailed off.

He let the silence lapse for a moment. He was fairly sure he knew what she was going to say. “Since?” he prodded gently.

“Since I told you the truth about how your father died.” She laid a hand on his arm, turning to face him.

Her eyes were wide, her gaze anxious and beseeching.

“For years I’ve wondered if I made the right choice by telling you when I did.

Maybe I should have told you straightaway.

Or maybe I never should have told you at all.

You were always a serious boy, but after that… you changed.”

She’d never said this to him before, but maybe she was right.

He just hadn’t been able to notice it for himself.

Hearing the truth of how his father died had stripped away the final layers of his childhood innocence.

It had disabused him of any notions about honor or decency.

It had torn him from the path he thought he’d pursue, pushing him toward something entirely different.

He never would have met Lucretia if he’d followed in his father’s footsteps, Felix realized with a jolt.

He clasped his mother’s hand. “You made the right choice.” Felix understood why she’d kept it from him until he was old enough to understand, why she’d wanted to give him a childhood free from such darkness.

Some of the anxiety faded from her gaze. “Thank you,” she murmured. Her tone lightened. “Anyway, I wondered if the lady you spoke of at dinner might have something to do with this recent change. You seem…happier.”

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered, caught off guard.

It hadn’t occurred to him that Lucretia might have changed him in ways he’d never have noticed.

His mind flashed back to that day at the beach, the shipwreck, when he’d turned away from chasing a thief to help Lucretia.

He’d soothed her fears, even though it was in his interest for her to succumb to them.

Then, just yesterday, he’d decided to let go of something that could vanquish her once and for all.

Because he no longer wanted to vanquish her. He wanted her .

But she didn’t want him. She might enjoy their evenings together, but that was as far as it went. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “She does not wish to marry again.”

“Did she say this to you?” Mother asked.

“Well…no,” Felix admitted. “I heard it secondhand.”

“Until she says it to you, don’t assume anything.

Perhaps she’s not yet ready to move on, but if you make your interest clear, she may come back to you when she is ready.

” Mother gave him a significant look, then rose from the bed and kissed him on the forehead.

“I’ll leave you to rest. You must be tired. ”

After she left, Felix mulled over her words.

His mother made an interesting point. Marcus was the one who had said Lucretia didn’t plan to marry again.

Perhaps Lucretia had only told him that when Cornelius’s death was still fresh, to reassure the boy that nothing else would change so suddenly.

Perhaps, now that time had passed, she might change her mind, might even consider Felix as a husband.

A sudden surge of hope filled him from head to toe.

Marrying Lucretia could allow them to combine their business interests.

She could be the perfect partner, both romantic and commercial.

He could protect her, too; as her husband, he’d assume the role of guardian she’d fabricated.

That way, no one would ever find out about her subterfuge.

Would she accept him, though? The question loomed large in his mind. What if she didn’t want him the way he wanted her? What if she only wanted their nights together, their lessons?

Felix had not made it to where he was by taking foolish risks. This situation was no different. So he’d wait, gather as much information as he could, and act only once he was sure of success.