Idiot.
Even so, he sensed that even the most suave overture would have been rejected just as soundly. He would not be so impolite as to press his suit a second time. Lucretia did not want him, so the matter was closed.
Chapter 10
Present day
After Felix stomped off, Lucretia attempted to return to work, but the encounter lingered in her mind. She took a deep breath, inhaling the traces of the scent he’d left behind, something herbal and fragrant that clung to his clothing. Perhaps thyme, or sage?
She had never seen him so ruffled. Usually, he was the very picture of cold equanimity. But perhaps that was only when he had the upper hand. All it took was one little incursion into his affairs to rattle him. She allowed herself a smile at the memory of it.
But in that moment at the end of their conversation, it seemed that something other than annoyance flustered him. His pale skin had flushed, and heat sparked in his gray eyes.
An answering thrill, strange and unbidden, lit in her own belly. Her mind flashed back to that evening five years ago when he had propositioned her, somehow bumbling and aloof at the same time. His interest then had been evident but restrained. She was no stranger to men noticing her, and there was no harm in enjoying some light flirtation. But she didn’t wish to engage in adultery, so Felix’s advance had been easy to refuse.
She couldn’t deny his appeal, with his dark hair, lean body, and sharply chiseled features, but she found him too withdrawn for her liking. Yes, he observed all the niceties at social occasions, but there was something distant in his manner that suggested he had no true interest in the people he engaged with.
Today, however, his remote façade had cracked—just a bit, but enough to spark thoughts of what might have been. What if she had, hypothetically, accepted his austere attempt at seduction? Would bedding him have burned away his coldness, stripped off his dispassion?
Before she could dwell on such thoughts, Dihya poked her head into the office. “Hewas in a good mood.” Smug sarcasm edged her words. “I take it your plan worked?” Lucretia had told Dihya of her intention to hold up Felix’s cargo.
Lucretia smirked. “Indeed. Speaking of plans—I talked to Caeso this morning.”
Dihya came toward Lucretia’s desk, fingers twisting a fold of her dress. “And?”
“I believe it was a genuine miscommunication,” Lucretia said. “He was quite apologetic, and he feared he’d upset Tadla as well.”
Dihya waved a hand. “I didn’t tell her exactly what happened, but she was relieved to hear that he won’t be coming to court her again.”
“He wishes to apologize face to face. I told him I would see if you were amenable.” Lucretia paused. “Personally, I think you should let him do more than apologize.”
A flush darkened Dihya’s golden skin. “Are you sure? I mean—is it quite proper?”
“Who cares about proper?” Lucretia said with a laugh. “You’re unattached, and there is a young, handsome man who desires you. A great deal, from what I gather.” She grinned. “He said you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.”
Dihya’s flush intensified, and she mumbled a denial.
“I’m not saying you need to marry him,” Lucretia continued, “but don’t turn your back on this opportunity.”
Dihya glanced down. Her thumb brushed the finger on her left hand where her wedding ring used to sit. Lucretia’s own ring finger tingled in sympathy. For months after Cornelius’s death, her hand had felt empty without the ring. She used to feel jolts of worry that she’d lost it somewhere, until she remembered that it was sitting in the jewelry box in her bedroom, never to be worn again.
“I never imagined…being with anyone else.” Dihya lowered her voice, as if speaking of something forbidden, and sat heavily in the chair opposite Lucretia’s desk.
Lucretia reached across to take her hand. “I understand, of course. But your husband wouldn’t want you to be alone forever, would he?” Lucretia didn’t know much about Dihya’s relationship with her late husband, but it had always seemed like a practical match, in which the two respected each other, at least.
Dihya gave her a half-smile. “If I was the one who died, I’m certain Severus would be married again by now.”
Lucretia chuckled. “Yes, men do seem to need a wife more than women need a husband, don’t they?”
Dihya lifted her eyes skyward in exasperation. “They are rather hopeless. What about yourself, Lucretia? If there was someone interested, would you pursue it?”
Lucretia considered for a moment. Perhaps she was being hypocritical by urging Dihya toward a flirtation, when like Dihya she had never truly considered what it would be like to be with someone else. “I think I would,” she finally said. “I’ll never marry again, but I wouldn’t deny myself a…pleasurable dalliance.”
Dihya raised an eyebrow. “Does that apply to Lucius Avitus Felix?”
“Felix!” Lucretia exclaimed. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Dihya glanced toward the door. “I overheard your conversation. And I see the way he looks at you. The man is desperate for you. I half-expected him to try to take you atop your desk.”
