Catullus let out a long-suffering sigh. “I was comparing her to Medusa. It was quite clever.”
Aelius rolled his eyes and made for the door. He kept his movements casual, so anyone watching would think he was only going to relieve himself, but as soon as he left the dining room, his pace quickened.
Ahead of him, Crispina’s palla fluttered behind her like a sail seeking a sea breeze. Aelius jogged a few steps until his foot flashed out and caught the hemmed edge of the fabric. It pulled loose from her head and fell, revealing shining dark hair bound into a sleek bun at the nape of her neck.
Aelius immediately bent to pick up the fallen palla. “I beg your pardon, lady,” he said as Crispina turned.
She snatched the fabric from his hands. “Are you following me?”
“No, I was just…” He struggled to gather his thoughts, thrown off-kilter by her directness. He’d been expecting the coy manners of a well-bred patrician girl—not a question so forthright it could have come from his commanding officer in the army. “Going where you were going. To take a breath of air in the atrium.”
“I was going to relieve myself. Are you going to follow me there?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and continued walking down the colonnaded hallway.
Idiot. They’d exchanged barely a dozen words, and somehow he’d managed to cock it up already. He should have listened to Catullus. But he wouldn’t give up so easily.
He followed at a slower pace, keeping a safe distance so she wouldn’t notice him. He entered the atrium; she continued through it and disappeared into another part of the house. Aelius lingered by the central pool. She’d come back this way, and then he could try to salvage the situation.
Aelius waited in the cool evening. Distant noises of the party filtered to him from the dining room, but the atrium was quiet. A few minutes later, a figure appeared on the other side of the atrium.
Crispina had pinned her palla back atop her head. It flowed over her shoulders down to her ankles in a wave of deep blue. She paused as she entered the atrium and cast Aelius a suspicious glance.
Aelius summoned every ounce of his charm. He knew women found him attractive, as he often caught lingering stares or flirtatious smiles from ladies he encountered in passing. He curved his lips into a smile. “Pleasant evening, isn’t it?”
She approached slowly, clasping her hands on her bare forearms. “I suppose.” She glanced in the direction of the dining room, and her mouth tightened.
He sensed she wasn’t eager to return to the party, which he could use to his advantage. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Aelius Herminius.” His full name was Marcus Trebonianus Aelius Herminius, but he hated using it. It was customary for freed slaves to take the name of their former master, but he preferred to be known by his own name, Aelius, and that of his stepfather, Herminius.
“How do you know my father?” She did not introduce herself.
“Er, I don’t actually. I’m here with Catullus.”
“The poet.”
It wasn’t a question, but Aelius nodded. “He spoke very highly of your taste in poetry.”
An eyebrow lifted. “I doubt that.”
Silence stretched. Aelius’s mind whirled, trying to think of something else to say. She wasn’t moving to return to the party, but she wasn’t saying anything either. Instead, she regarded him with a steady, cool gaze that made his skin crawl with anxiety.
He decided to try a compliment. All ladies liked compliments, didn’t they? “You look most beautiful tonight, lady.”
She glanced over at the pool next to them as if bored.
A gentle nighttime breeze flowed over them, wafting the floral scent of perfumed oil to his nose. Her scent, he realized. It brought to mind a disquieting image of her lithe body being massaged all over with oil. His mouth opened, seeking words to distract him from the images running through his head. Then he was talking, his mouth sputtering words before his mind could catch up. “Catullus tells me you are recently divorced.”
Her gaze flicked back to him, sharp as a freshly honed blade.
The words kept spilling out. “In fact, I was relieved to hear it—”
“Were you?”
Aelius realized how idiotic his statement had sounded. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean it that way…I just…I found you to be so striking, lady, and…” His disjointed words hung in the air. Aelius cringed. How was it that he could speak with confident eloquence to a hundred men in the Forum, but he’d managed to so thoroughly botch a single conversation with one woman?
“Please, do continue,” Crispina said, her voice dripping vinegar.
Aelius braced himself. Too much had been said already. The only way to possibly salvage this disaster of a conversation was to be forthright and honest. “I am in search of a wife, and I thought you…well, you…”
She stared at him with a blank, flat gaze, with no hint of reaction at his bumbling words.
