Chapter 2

‘But what can I do about it?’ Cornelia had moaned languidly. ‘Surely you’re not hoping that I will rebuke him. My husband would not like to have people telling him what he may say in the Senate.’

‘Not even his wife?’ Paula arched her patrician brows.

‘Especially his wife,’ rejoined Cornelia. ‘We have a tacit understanding that Marcus is to attend to his profession without my assistance. My responsibility is to manage his home.’

Paula had grinned dryly; and, shortly after, had taken her departure, leaving behind her a distressing dilemma. Cornelia wished that the Senator could be a little less candid. He was such an amiable man when he wanted to be. Of course, Gaius was a waster and a fool; but—after all—he was the Prince Regent, and you didn’t have to call him names in public assemblies. First thing you knew, they’d all be blacklisted. Paula Gallus was far too prudent to let Diana become involved in their scrapes. If the situation became serious, they wouldn’t be seeing much more of Diana. That would be a great grief to Lucia. And it might affect the future of Marcellus, too. It was precious little attention he had paid to the high-spirited young Diana, but Cornelia was still hopeful.

Sometimes she worried, for a moment or two, about Marcellus. One of her most enjoyable dreams posed her son on a beautiful white horse, leading a victorious army through the streets, dignifiedly acknowledging the plaudits of a multitude no man could number. To be sure, you didn’t head that sort of parade unless you had risked some perils; but Marcellus had never been a coward. All he needed was a chance to show what kind of stuff he was made of. He would probably never get that chance now. Cornelia cried bitterly; and because there was no one else to talk to about it, she bared her heart to Lucia. And Lucia, shocked by her mother’s unprecedented display of emotion, had tried to console her.

But today, Cornelia had quite disposed of her anxiety; not because the reason for it had been in any way relieved, but because she was temperamentally incapable of concentrating diligently upon anything— not even upon a threatened catastrophe.

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