His quip was rewarded with a twitch of her lips that might have been a smile. “You did succeed in piquing my curiosity,” she said. “I have always been too curious for my own good. Tell me why you proposed.”
Given her frankness, he didn’t bother with flowery promises or words of affection, but laid out his case in clear, forthright terms. “I’m running for tribune of the plebs in the next election. I need to win this election if I want to stand for the consulship in ten years.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “How ambitious.”
“I need to spend the next decade building as much influence as I can. Your father is well-connected. If we were to marry, I imagine he would want his son-in-law to be successful, and I’d be able to utilize his network to influence the votes I need.”
Crispina folded her arms over her chest. An emerald bracelet flashed on her wrist. “But why marry me? You’re handsome enough, surely an up-and-coming politician, even a plebeian, can find himself a better match than a barren divorcée.”
Handsome enough. A flush crept over his cheeks. He knew women generally found him attractive, but hearing it from Crispina felt especially gratifying for some reason.
But her words led him to what he was most nervous to share. “There is…something else.” He’d practiced this, but it was hard to look into her eyes and say the words. “I’m a…I was…”
She waited patiently for him to spit it out, her gaze never leaving his face.
“I’m a freedman,” he finally said. “I was born a slave, and freed after my master’s death, when I was fourteen.”
Shock rippled across her face. Her gaze flicked up and down his body, as if looking for some sort of visual marker to confirm what he was saying.
He gave it to her. Gritting his teeth, he removed his armband and showed her the brand on his wrist.
She stared at it for a long moment, her face inscrutable. Finally, she spoke. “Freedmen can’t run for political office.”
“My mother married after we were freed, and my stepfather adopted me. Legally, I am no different from a freeborn citizen.” He replaced the armband, feeling exposed and vulnerable without it.
She let out a long, slow breath. “I knew there had to be something,” she muttered.
Aelius waited for her to turn away, to tell him never to speak to her again.
But she didn’t. Instead, she met his gaze. “Now I understand why you want me. So tell me, why should I want to marry you?”
Relief flooded him: she was giving him a chance. He opened his mouth, and the words rose easily to his tongue. “It must be galling to be returned to your father’s control when you were once mistress of your own household. So I offer you freedom.” He hoped he had correctly assessed that this was what she most desired, based on Catullus’s comments about her parents and his observations of their evident disdain for her.
“Marry me and you can do as you like, go where you like, conduct your life as it pleases you. And…” He glanced toward Memmius. “You won’t have to face your ex-husband and his young bride alone at a party ever again.”
Her gaze returned to her ex-husband, then flicked back to him. “I see. You know I cannot give you children.” She spoke matter-of-factly, but a shadow lurked behind her eyes.
He nodded. “I will need an heir eventually, so I propose a temporary arrangement. Marriage through the election at least, and a few months into my term if I win. Then we may go our separate ways.”
“I have no desire to be twice-divorced. Once was quite enough.”
Dis, why hadn’t he thought of that? His mind raced to find a solution he could offer. She wanted freedom. What could he use to negotiate?
An idea struck him. “In the event of our divorce, I’ll gift you a property of your choosing, anywhere in Italy. You will have the freedom you desire, both during our marriage and after it.” The inheritance from his stepfather would be enough to cover a purchase like that.
She considered. “You offer me freedom, yet you must know a woman is always beholden to her husband. I find it difficult to agree to shackle myself, even temporarily, to someone I’ve only spoken to twice.”
He nodded. “We barely know each other. Will you allow me to call on you a few times?”
She shook her head. “My parents would not permit that. But…” She thought for a moment. “I’ll be at the games next Thursday. My parents will be distracted. I’ll save you a seat in our section.”
His heart leaped. He was one step closer to winning her. “I look forward to it.” Though gladiatorial combat was not exactly the most romantic setting, he reminded himself this was a courtship in name only, and their marriage would be the same.
Chapter 5
On Thursday, Aelius entered the crowded stands of the arena. The noise of thousands of spectators laughing and chatting swelled up around him. This was one place, at least, he did not need Catullus for admission. All he had to do was sidestep the sellers hawking skewers of roasted meat and fried chickpea fritters, then make a small bribe to be allowed into the exclusive area on the lowest level where the patricians had their seats.
He spotted Crispina by virtue of the flame-orange palla she wore. Her family’s box was large, spanning three rows of seats, and several other people occupied it in addition to her parents. They were all socializing toward the front rows of the box, sharing plates of grapes and figs, and no one noticed Aelius slip in and take the empty spot next to Crispina in the back row. “Hello,” he said.
