Titus laughed. She had not honestly thought he had, but such beauty raised questions. Her son shook his head. “Jason bought the boy to save him from such a fate. Although Samuel has become more a son than a slave.”
Aquilia made her thoughts on that clear with another pointed look at the girl, but she only shrugged. “I speak Greek more than anything. Child. Slave. They are the same word. The lines become blurred.”
Titus choked back a laugh.
Aquilia let out a repulsed breath and turned away. She had not seen her son so jovial in fifteen years . . . and knew not what to think about seeing him so now. With her. “Settle in, my son. Come see me once you have had a chance to refresh yourself.”
*
Abigail had never seen a home the likes of this one. She trailed Titus through the vestibulum and fauces, through the middle of the atrium, and toward the peristylium. The fact that his chamber was off the garden told her it would be larger, more ornate.
It certainly was. She had heard Jason once complain about how close the bedchambers could be in a Roman house, but she felt none of that in this cubiculum. The ceiling was vaulted, the air flowed in from the garden, and bed and windows were dressed in fabric she knew well had cost a fortune.
Titus grimaced when he opened another door, presumably to the servant’s quarters attached to his. “This will be far too cramped for all three of you.”
She came up beside him, Samuel still holding one hand while Benjamin nestled against her chest. She smiled. “It is larger than the room I grew up in. We will be fine here.”
“I will have a more comfortable mattress brought in. And arrange for a pallet for Samuel. Are you certain?”
“Quite.” She stepped out again and looked around her in appreciation. “Titus, your home is beautiful.” Her eyes landed on a small statue on a table in the corner of the room, then moved as if drawn magnetically to the gardens outside.
“It is. That is about all it is, as I think you will soon discover.” He surveyed the room as if for a flaw. “It will do, I suppose. Are you sure you will not mind the lack of an exit?”
Abigail shook her head, but still she had to sigh.
Titus’s face softened. “What is bothering you, my friend, if not that?”
Abigail hesitated only a moment. “Titus, are you going to tell your parents? You have changed, and they will notice.”
Titus sighed, sitting down absently on one of the chairs. “I should, I know. But it will be difficult to explain to them.”
“Especially if your father thinks I am your lover.” She held his gaze firmly, though she felt heat stain her cheeks. “I appreciate the delicacy of the situation, that you feel I must be protected. But promise me that after I leave, you will clear up this fallacy.”
Titus nodded, looking relieved. Probably at the permission to put off the task until then.
She was not finished, though. “Besides, I am not convinced he will believe this. My seventy days of mourning will not be complete for another fortnight, not to mention the forty days of purification following the birth.” When he smirked she narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“My father is hardly educated in the laws of your people, Abigail. Such things will not occur to him, I assure you.” But it did, at least, cause him to study her. “It has only occurred to me that you have not been wearing mourning.”
“One of the physicians said we should not,” Abigail said softly. “He said it was only furthering Ester’s depression. And I did not think about it once Benjamin was born.”
Titus nodded, then stood. “Well, take a few moments to get settled, and I will do the same.”
Abigail nodded. But she had no idea how to settle into this place.
*
Caelia gasped when she heard that Titus was returned. She hurried from the room she shared with two other women and dashed in the direction of her master’s chamber. To say she had missed him in the past year would be an understatement; she had counted the days until his return once Caius had announced he would be back soon. To be sure, she hoped he had thought of her with less frequency. She was still less than anxious to be the cause of a deeper rift between Titus and his father. But now that he was back, perhaps it would signal the end of her nights with Caius. Perhaps she would be his alone again.
Something within her told her it would not happen that way. Before, Titus had been the only man she had known, and that was why he kept her to himself. But now she had been defiled by another, by many others if truth be told, and he would probably not be so eager to claim her as solely his. But at the very least, she would get to enjoy his arms once more, feel his lips warm against her flesh. . . she closed her eyes in delectation, opening them again quickly so she could speed to her destination.