Aelius, charming as ever, smiled at Ulpia. “Thank you very much for the invitation to your beautiful home. I particularly admired the roses in your atrium. Such large blooms. My mother would love to know the name of your gardener. She’s been struggling to get ours to bloom.”
“Oh.” Ulpia’s brow wrinkled, disarmed by Aelius’s compliments. “Yes, I suppose I could send my horticulturist to her with some advice.”
Aelius inclined his head. “That would be most generous.”
Some other guests entered, and Ulpia excused herself to greet them. Crispina glared at her orange-swathed back. “I hope she chokes on her wine.”
“Then my mother shall never get her gardening advice.” His tone was casual, his bearing relaxed. Nothing about him indicated any notice of the woman’s rudeness.
“Your mother doesn’t need gardening advice,” Crispina said. “Her flowers are lovely.”
“Yes, but people like it when you ask them for help. It makes them feel useful and important.”
Crispina let out a tight breath. Aelius was used to this treatment, and he’d evidently figured out how to navigate it.
Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Crispina turned to see a slim man smartly dressed in a green toga with an embroidered border. He spoke in clipped tones, addressing her husband. “Our hostess tells me you are Aelius Herminius.” Rings bedecked his slender fingers, the gold matching the color of his hair.
Aelius nodded. “I am, sir. And you are?”
“Publius Veturius Rufus.” He jerked his head in a stiff nod. He stood closer to Crispina’s height than Aelius’s, and the tense posture of his neck and shoulders made it seem like he resented every degree he had to raise his chin to meet Aelius’s eyes.
The name meant nothing to Crispina, but Aelius’s eyebrows lifted and he stepped closer. “How interesting to make your acquaintance. I imagine we shall be seeing much of each other over the coming months.”
Crispina edged forward. “And why is that?” It was rude to interfere in her husband’s conversation, especially when she hadn’t been formally introduced to Rufus, but she hated standing by and listening to something she only half-understood.
Rufus cast her a disinterested glance, tinged with irritation at her interruption. She sensed his disposition was closer to Memmius’s than her current husband’s. Memmius would have ignored her for a week if she’d behaved like this in his presence.
“We are both to stand for the tribune election,” Aelius said. “Rufus, please meet my wife, Crispina.”
Rufus’s head twitched in the barest nod before he returned his attention to Aelius. “You stood for the last election, correct?”
Aelius’s expression grew taut. “I was not successful, but I hope the experience will serve me well.”
A thin smile appeared on Rufus’s face. “I expect it will. If you should find yourself in a similar position this year, I hope you will not take it too hard. May I introduce my friend, Trebonianus?” He waved to a man around Aelius’s age a few feet away, who came over to greet them.
A strange quiver rippled up Aelius’s spine. The man Rufus was introducing, Trebonianus, stopped short and stared at Aelius, his mouth falling open for an instant before he clamped it shut.
Crispina’s gaze flicked between the three men. She was missing something, and she didn’t like to miss things.
“Forgive me, have you met?” Rufus said as the other two men stared at each other. A sly smirk played around his thin lips.
Aelius snapped himself out of whatever had overtaken him and smiled. Crispina knew him well enough by now to detect the hardness that lingered behind his eyes, the tension in his bearing. “We have. How nice to see you again, Trebonianus. It’s been a while.”
He nodded to Trebonianus, who only stammered. Aelius took Crispina’s hand. “Excuse us, I’ve just seen some oysters circulating over there, and my wife is uncommonly fond of them.” He steered Crispina away.
“Who was that?” she murmured once they were out of earshot.
Aelius headed for an empty corner of the room, where they slipped behind a large potted plant. “Trebonianus is the son of my former master.”
Crispina drew in a sharp breath. “Rufus…he…”
“He must have known I’d be in attendance, that we’re running in the same election, and discovered my history with the Trebonianus family.”
The pieces clicked into place in Crispina’s mind. “He invited Trebonianus here to humiliate you.”
“I imagine so, yes.”
Anger unfurled in Crispina’s chest like a sail catching wind. “That detestable man. How dare he? He must answer for this insult.” She took a step out of their shelter behind the plant. She wanted to find the biggest pitcher of wine she could and dump it all over Rufus’s head. It would cause a scene, and thanks to their hostess’s gift for gossip, the anecdote would be all over the city by tomorrow. Everyone would know what Rufus had done, how disgustingly he had behaved. Her own reputation would suffer, but it was in tatters anyway.
