“Oh!” She flung her arms around him and pulled him into a crushing hug. For such a slight woman, her hugs always seemed strong enough to crack a marble column.
She pulled back and kissed him on the forehead. “Who is the bride? Is she from a good family? Why haven’t I met her yet?”
“Well, it’s because she hasn’t agreed,” Aelius said. “I know you want me to settle down and take a wife, but this isn’t quite what you think.”
Gaia frowned. “I hope you haven’t gotten some poor girl in trouble. Haven’t I warned you, it’s all well and good to have your fun, but the worst thing you could do is to—"
“No!” He waved a hand to cut her off. She had always been frank with him about the realities of life for women, which made him approach his infrequent encounters with reasonably priced courtesans with caution and respect. But that had nothing to do with his current situation. “It’s about the election. Marrying is the easiest way to forge the alliances I need. Catullus has introduced me to a senator’s daughter who might be open to a match.”
Her frown deepened. “Patricians do not marry freedmen.”
“Not usually, but this one might.” He explained briefly about Crispina’s divorce. “She doesn’t know about my…well, upbringing, but I will tell her soon.”
Gaia did not look reassured. “Even if this girl does agree to marry you, do you really think it wise to base a marriage on nothing but political gain? And she can’t even give you children. You must continue our line.”
Crispina’s infertility did complicate his plan, but a solution rose quickly to his mind. “We’ll be married for a fixed term, perhaps through the election and six months into my term as a tribune, if I win. Then, we’ll quietly divorce, and I’ll marry someone else who can give you as many grandchildren as you desire.”
Gaia met his gaze. “I know you feel this is what you have to do, and I won’t stand in your way, but I don’t like this side of you, Aelius. What of the young woman you plan to cast aside?”
His mother’s misgivings sent a stab of uncertainty through him, but he pushed it aside. This marriage scheme was his best chance at gaining enough votes to win the tribune election, which in turn was essential to winning a consulship in the future. And gaining political influence was the only way to enact true change.
“If she consents, I will make the parameters of our relationship perfectly clear to Crispina,” Aelius said. “She’ll be under no illusions. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement. Nothing more.”
Gaia folded her arms across her chest. “It still seems rather mercenary, but I trust you to do what you think is right.”
He kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Mama.”
Aelius was once again grateful for Catullus’s friendship, as the poet easily obtained an invitation to the dinner party Crispina had mentioned and brought Aelius along with him. Guests milled around the atrium at the beginning of the party, served by slaves bearing trays of appetizers.
Aelius scanned the crowd. He spotted Crispina’s parents, but she wasn’t with them.
Catullus nudged him. “There she is.”
Crispina stood in the shadow of a column on the far side of the atrium. She wore a green palla this time, covering her from the top of her head to her ankles over a burgundy dress. The deep emerald color set off her glossy hair and dark eyes. She looked beautiful—despite the fact that her face was pulled tight in an angry frown. She was glaring at someone.
Aelius followed her gaze, which seemed to be directed at a cluster of four people standing a few feet away: a middle-aged man, a young woman, and a couple who seemed to be the young woman’s parents. “Who are they?”
Catullus squinted at the people. “That’s Memmius, Crispina’s ex-husband. I believe he’s courting the young lady, and those are her parents.”
That explained why Crispina was glaring at the man so hotly his toga should be charred. “I see.”
“It was insensitive of the host to invite them both,” Catullus murmured.
“She will welcome a distraction, then.” Aelius took a deep breath and crossed the atrium to approach her. Luckily they were a good distance from the pool, so he hoped to avoid another soaking.
He nodded to her. “Good evening, Crispina.”
She tore her gaze away from her ex-husband and nodded to him. “Aelius.”
“Are you enjoying the party?”
“No.”
Her straightforwardness gave him a strange thrill of delight. Especially in the world of politics, people rarely said what they meant. “Thank you for agreeing to speak to me again. We got off to a poor start the other night. Let me apologize again, as I never meant to cause offense.”
“I have been told I take offense too easily. I probably shouldn’t have splashed you.”
“Oh, I found it most refreshing. Saved me from paying for a trip to the baths.”
