The first step would be winning the allegiance of the steward and other men in his employ in the shipping end, and he figured he was already well on his way to achieving that. The better the decisions he made, the more they benefitted, and the more they looked on him with respect and loyalty. He took it as a good sign that already the missives they sent were no longer addressed only to Caius, but now to the Asiniuses. In another month, he would see if it was his name alone on the top. And best of all, his father would not wonder if he were trying to usurp him; Caius would like nothing more than to spend his days in the Forum and let the money-making end of things be taken care of by someone else. Logically, this should suit them both. It made so much sense that Titus began to wonder why neither of them had considered it before.
He settled the matter he had been called to deal with in very little time but spent several hours there acquainting himself with the details of the operation, talking to the men who worked for him, anticipating other problems likely to come up. By the time he left, he felt confident that he could indeed increase their income tremendously by working out a few kinks and making a few minor changes. It made his mood light, and he held onto that even as he returned home.
“Where is my father?” he asked Timothy as soon as he entered the house; servants were still dashing around trying to return order to the place after last night’s feast, though he suspected they were in more need of sleep than the masters.
“In his chambers, Master. He has just awakened and called for food.”
“Good.” Titus headed in the appropriate direction with long strides and soon arrived at his father’s rooms. He knocked on the door. It opened before him. “Good afternoon, Father.”
Caius glared at him. “What is good about it?”
His obvious pain brought a smile to Titus’s lips. “Seeing you paying for your revelries, for one thing. For another, I was just down talking with Quintilius, and we took care of the difficulties the Corinthian authorities were giving us. You know, I enjoy such work as much as you loathe it. I would be happy to handle the businesses from now on, so that you are free to concentrate on politics.”
“Fine. Is that all?”
“No.” Titus let his face turn hard. “If you touch Miriam again you will find yourself in far more pain than you are in right now. She is not yours. You have no right to her.”
Caius scowled. “Will you keep them both to yourself, Titus?”
“I will keep Abigail to myself. Miriam is no more mine than she is yours. It was Abigail who bought her, Abigail who owns her, and it is Abigail alone who has the authority to give her to a man. She is a handmaid, not a concubine. To make certain you respect this, we have moved her in with the boys, and Phillip will be guarding them. See that you do not give the slave another reason to crack your skull.”
Before Caius could muster up a reply, Titus strode from the room again.
He found Abigail and the children and the servants outside and spent the rest of the afternoon with them. Well, he spent the afternoon with Samuel. Abigail rarely looked up from the book she had brought out, and even when she did, her eyes were distant. It was only a small relief to see that it was not just him she kept herself aloof from, but everyone. Her answers to Samuel were monosyllabic, she showed no interest in Antonia’s story from the markets that morning, and she did not so much as mutter a complaint when Phillip and Miriam hovered over her. When they ate with his mother, his father still not feeling up to leaving his room, she was silent. He followed when she put the children to bed, hoping she would talk to him once they were alone.
He waited on his chaise while she got the boys settled, straightening when she came out into his room, dismissing Miriam and Phillip. He stood. She turned to him, and her hollow eyes suddenly sparked. He was fully expecting another argument to begin. Instead, she walked over to him calmly and pulled his mouth down to hers. Her lips were hungry, and her hands impatient.
He decided not to try for conversation after all.
*
It was the second night in a row Titus has accepted an invitation from Lucius to join him at some gathering in the city. The night before, Abigail had stayed up with a copy of a dialogue until his return, when she could convince her servants to leave her. This night, she found herself considerably irritated. They had been in Rome for many weeks and he had never left her alone of an evening. Yet when she accepted him as her lover, he went out? It was insulting. So rather than finding some excuse to stay up, she granted Miriam permission to sleep in her room, sent Phillip into Titus’s, and went to sleep.
His return awoke her. She heard his voice, Phillip’s muffled answer, and she sat up in irritation. If it woke her up, there was a good chance it would wake the children as well. Furious, she exited into his chamber, more irritated still when the moon’s angle told her it was only an hour or two before dawn. She felt Miriam come up behind her.
Titus was glowering at Phillip, who was saying, “I will not leave her alone with you when you are in this state. You are worse than drunk if you think I will.”
“And you are worse than a slave if you think I would hurt her. Can a man not have privacy in his own room?” His words were slurred, and he only just noticed her. Looking her way, he did not so much as smile. “Hello, sweet one. Why do you not tell your lackey to leave us?”
Abigail stepped out from behind Phillip and put a hand on his arm. “It is all right, my friend. You and Miriam may go.”