‘We have failed to establish if he owes you anything.’ She tilted her head to one side. Her lips curved upwards, but her knuckles showed white where her hand gripped the stylus. ‘You offer no proof. You merely demand.’
Aro made a show of straightening his cloak, giving the deliberate impression he had time to spare. Neither Lydia Veratia nor her father must guess how precarious the situation was. Another hour and he’d have missed today’s tide.
Each day’s delay brought him closer to the time of the fierce north winds when it would be dangerous to set sail. Falerian wine was worth more than its weight in gold, but even in his younger days, when amassing a fortune was all-important, he would not have risked his men on such a venture once the winds started to blow. His success depended on judging the sea correctly, getting the cargo to market and, more importantly, keeping his men for the next voyage. However, this money would ensure he could pay for a fixer and be enrolled in the Senate. His vow to his father would be complete and his branch of the Fabius family would once again rank among the elite.
‘We made a bargain, your father and I, eighteen months ago out on the sea. Gold plus a cargo of Falerian wine when I should require it if I transported him to Corinth. I had thought it finished, but discovered that one of my captains failed to take the cargo. He has only just returned to Rome from Egypt.’
The white of her teeth showed, followed by a sudden flash of recognition in her eyes. ‘You are the pirate who demanded ransom after my father’s ship was slightly damaged in a storm.’
‘No, I am the merchant who gave your father shelter on board my vessel when his own ship was floundering, taking on water.’ Aro pronounced each word with care and through gritted teeth. He had gambled with his life and his ships, fought other crews to reach a port first, seldom hesitated to seduce a beautiful woman, but he had never resorted to piracy. ‘If we had not been there, your father would have drowned. I lost two experienced men in the storm, saving his precious store of spices.’
‘My father has paid enough, more than enough.’
‘You are an expert in these things? How? Are you your father’s scribe?’ Aro’s voice betrayed his incredulity. But Lydia continued to look at him with level eyes. Aro opted for an indulgent smile, one he knew had charmed many of the women in the seaside resort of Baiae. ‘I would have thought your head would be full of other things—running a household, ribbons or perhaps one of the poets, not the dull bookkeeping of a shipping house.’
Instead of a simper or a flirtatious laugh, Lydia Veratia drew her eyebrows together and frowned. She tapped her forefinger against a stack of tablets.
‘I know the going rate for a passage to Corinth. It is not too difficult to discover. It is in the region of thirty denarii, rather less than what you charged.’ Her voice held a distinct note of ice. Lydia Veratia’s back straightened and she raised her chin, challenging him.
‘There are charges and there are charges.’ Aro pressed his lips together to form a firm line. The last time someone had dared question his prices, the paint had barely dried on the decking of his first ship. ‘I risked my life and that of my men to rescue your father and his cargo.’
‘I may be a woman, but I am not a simpleton. Pray don’t treat me like one.’
‘I never said that you didn’t have a mind,’ Aro retorted quickly. ‘I would have thought you’d have preferred to use it for different pursuits.’
‘How I use my mind is no concern of yours, but as it happens I prefer business to spinning. My father values my counsel.’ Lydia bent her head and sorted through some tablets, her tongue caught between her teeth.
‘The Falerian wine has gone elsewhere. Sold to the highest bidder last Nones.’ She sorted through a stack and held one out. ‘All perfectly legal. You should be content with the going rate for passage to Corinth. You did receive a higher commission on the spice, I believe.’
Aro reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding her there, preventing her from moving. He had enough of Roman treachery. If Veratius Cornelius thought because Aro was the head of a merchant house rather than a Roman senator that he could cheat him, he was sadly mistaken. His father’s words haunted him. ‘What do you mean—sold?’
‘Let go of me!’
‘Not until you tell me to whom and why the cargo was sold. It was not your father’s to sell. We had a legally binding agreement.’
‘I said let go of me! It is none of your business who purchased the wine.’
Lydia moved her wrist and tried to break free of the broad-shouldered man who had invaded her father’s inner sanctum, but his fingers held her fast, preventing her. Large. Dangerous. Untamed. She was so close the flecks of gold in his tawny eyes were clearly visible.
She bit her lip. She should have called for Gallus when he first burst into the room, but that would have meant alerting Gallus to her presence and awkward questions from her father. She had no wish to inflame his temper. No, it was too late for regrets.
She moved her wrist sharply downwards and, as suddenly as the man had grabbed it, he let go. Her skin tingled where his fingers had been. She rubbed her wrist, trying to rid her body of the feeling.
‘But it is very much my business, much more so than yours,’ he said quietly, but he did not move away from her. Lydia held her body still. ‘Most matrons are attending their spinning rather than shuffling scrolls in an office. Why do you know so much about your father’s business? And you still have failed to explain why you wish to keep it a secret from him.’
The rage grew within Lydia. There was much more to her world than spinning and gossip at the baths. She was not one of those empty-headed women who lived only for pleasure. Over the past six months, besides running the domestic side of the house, she had learnt how to manage her father’s business affairs and handled them quite well in her opinion. She did not need some ship’s captain telling her how she should be conducting herself.
Selling the Falerian wine had been a master stroke. Pompey had swept the pirates from the Mediterranean, and therefore her father’s bargain was finished. Publius had always proclaimed the man who stood before her was a notorious pirate. The Falerian wine had sat in the warehouse for nearly a season, forgotten. When her father lay ill and the bills for the doctor had been presented along with Publius’s mounting debts, it seemed the most sensible thing to do. The pirate, if he lived, would never dare claim it.
Problem resolved. The honour of the Veratii saved.
Staring up at the man’s tawny eyes, his warm breath fanning her cheek, Lydia felt a sense of unease pass over her. Perhaps she should have sold something else, but it had seemed to be the only way at the time. Her father had to live. The doctors and soothsayers demanded money. Publius had lost a fortune at the gaming tables.
No, she had done what she did because she had to.
How did she even know this man was telling the truth? It might be that he had heard the tale and decided to claim the goods for himself. She drew a steadying breath. Yes, that was it. It had to be.
‘I mean you no harm,’ he said. ‘I want what is rightfully mine.’
‘Pompey has got rid of all pirates.’ Lydia pressed the skin on the bridge of her nose. This man was taking an awful risk by showing his face. A line of crucified pirates stretched for several miles down the Appian Way. ‘The pirates have stopped menacing the seas and people no longer need fear them.’
‘For that I am grateful.’ He gave a mocking bow, a flourish with his hand. His cloak moved, revealing the hard muscular length of his leg, muscles that had come from hard work, not the gymnasium at the bath. ‘The Cilian pirates have been a menace to honest traders for years. We honest merchants suffered grievously.’
‘You are not a pirate.’ Lydia’s hand clutched her throat. The sudden possibility that Publius had lied to her grabbed her insides. The room swayed and then righted itself. Had she made a dreadful mistake?
‘Would I be here, openly in Rome today, if I were?’
‘How would
I know?’
‘Do I look such a fool that I would appear in Rome with a price on my head?’ The man lifted his eyebrow. A half-smile appeared on his full lips. Lydia had no doubt most of her friends would be swooning by this stage. He had bedroom eyes and his legs put those of a gladiator to shame. ‘I can assure you my life is worth far more than a cargo of fine wine.’
Lydia pressed her lips into a firm line. He made it sound plausible. It would be suicide for a pirate to boldly enter Rome, particularly one as well known as Publius claimed her father’s rescuer was. He had to be an impostor. Lydia heaved a sigh of relief. That was it. An impostor who had heard about the bargain her father had made.
‘I don’t know what you might or might not do.’ She crossed her arms and returned his stare. ‘It is of no concern of mine. What proof do you have that the wine was even intended for you? It could be you somehow heard about this wine and are attempting to get it through trickery.’
‘The lady wants proof, and proof she shall have.’ He gave a bow and drew out a tablet.
Lydia’s heart sank as she saw the first seal. A wolf’s head. ‘You belong to the Lupan House?’
‘I am the head of that trading house, yes.’
Her heart sank further when she examined the seal next to the wolf’s head. Her father’s. This was indeed the man. He did hold the right to the wine, the wine she had sold without her father’s knowledge or consent.
Lydia caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Things were going from bad to worse. The docks buzzed with whispers about the rise and rise of the Lupan House. It was said that the head of the house was blessed by the gods, a true son of Neptune. A man with the touch of King Midas, all his cargoes turned to gold and little wonder with the prices he charged.
‘You should have told the porter. You should have told me who you were.’
Fabius Aro made an annoyed noise at the back of his throat. Lydia cursed her ill luck. Why hadn’t Publius told her the truth about the wine? If she’d realised, she would have never sold it. To alienate one of the most powerful trading houses in the Mediterranean was beyond stupidity. What was worse—Publius had to have known.
‘Where is my wine?’ Aro asked again. This time his voice held a note of menace.
‘Sold, I told you.’ Her hand twisted her shawl tighter.
‘Then Veratius Cornelius owes me the gold from the sale. He has sold something that belongs to me. And I could have received three times the amount in North Africa than I could in Rome for that wine.’
Lydia swallowed hard. Triple the amount. He had to be lying. She risked a glance upwards at his features. They were set harder than ever. He was telling the truth. She should never have given in to temptation. She should have sold one of the estates in northern Italy instead. She blinked. Anything but the wine.
‘It will take some time to get the money,’ she began, willing her mind to think up a good excuse, to buy time.
‘Time is not something I have. I have buyers up and down the African coast waiting for this wine. I will have to purchase it from wherever I can or risk facing the north wind.’
‘You will need to speak to my father about this.’ Lydia winced as she said it. She would have to explain the situation to her father, and risk his wrath. The question was how to break it to him, what to say. The doctors had said that he was to be kept quiet, and allow nothing to disturb him. She was positive she could find a buyer for her mother’s estate, if she was allowed a few weeks.
‘And we are back to where we started from. I must speak with your father.’
‘Who wishes to speak with me?’ Lydia heard her father’s voice call out. ‘Who dares invade my inner sanctum without my permission?’
Chapter Two
L ydia winced at the sound of her father’s voice. So much for Sulpicia’s prediction of getting in and out without his knowledge. Everything would be exposed.
She glared at Aro, standing there, brushing a speck of lint off his tunic. Unconcerned. It was all his fault. Everything. If he had come for the Falerian wine when he was supposed to, none of this would ever have happened. How very like a pirate to be underhanded. Even as she thought the words, she knew she was being unfair.
‘Gallus informs me my presence is required urgently,’ her father’s voice boomed. ‘He has run all the way to the Senate. I had to excuse myself during Cato’s speech on the necessity to limit fish ponds in Rome. There had best be a good reason.’
‘There is a man here, Father,’ Lydia called out. There was no point in hiding. She had to face her father and take whatever punishment he deemed appropriate. She hated to think what a confrontation with Fabius Aro might do to him. He had barely recovered from his last attack.
‘Ah, Veratius Cornelius, at last we meet again.’ Aro broke in before she had a chance to say anything more. His voice sounded lazy and easygoing, nothing like the intense man she had been arguing with. ‘I trust life has treated you well since we last parted in Corinth. As I promised, your spices went for twice what you expected.’
‘Aro, Fabius Aro. You have come for your wine, no doubt. About time too. Cobwebs are gathering on the amphorae, but there again I suppose you will get a better price for it.’ Her father entered the room at a slow shuffle. He paused in the doorway to straighten his toga, highlighting the broad purple stripe. His features hardened when his gaze lighted on her. ‘Lydia, you are neglecting your spinning again. Do you not remember what we discussed only yesterday? Forgive my daughter, Fabius Aro. The young women of today, they will ruin the Republic. In my youth, women always left business to the men. As Cato was saying this morning, where will it all end?’
Lydia tried to ignore Aro’s arched brow and superior expression. But she inwardly winced, her earlier boast revealed for the lie it was. She twisted her belt around her hand. She could hardly begin explaining about how her father had encouraged her before he suffered from his ill health, but since his recovery had seemed to have forgotten. Sometimes, Lydia could almost believe the soothsayer who said a demon had taken charge of her father’s body.
This was definitely the last time she helped Sulpicia and Publius out. Next time, Sulpicia could approach her father herself. Today was getting worse by the heartbeat. Early this morning, she had begun to hope that at long last things were beginning to return to normal, that her father would once again start managing his business affairs, that she could go back to the baths and discuss the latest plays, poetry and scandal with her friends, instead of worrying about which merchant should be paid first, and when the grain should be harvested. It had been such a long time since she had the time to do more than have a quick scrape down with a strigil and a rinse off. She had intended on keeping her promise, but now all her father would be able to see was she had broken it at the first opportunity.
And there was the small matter of the wine…
Her father started towards the desk and stumbled. Lydia’s heart turned over. Her father was a shadow of his former self. She could see that Aro saw that as well. Gone was the large man with an even larger appetite for life, and in his place was this shrunken man with watery eyes. She watched Aro closely to see his reaction, but his face was a blank slab of marble. He stood there with his hand upon his dagger.
‘There appears to be a bit of trouble with the shipment,’ Aro said. ‘I wonder if you might help me solve it.’
‘Trouble? What sort of trouble?’ Veratius Cornelius cocked his head. ‘I placed those amphorae aside just as I promised I would. A Veratii does not attempt to break a promise, even one given on a rain-soaked deck.’
Lydia shifted from foot to foot. She had to tell him. Now. She had to confess and risk undoing all the progress he had made.
‘The wine has been sold, Father.’
‘Sold? Why and under whose order?’ Veratius Cornelius’s face flushed. He reached out and laid a trembling hand on the table. ‘Who would do that? Which misbegotten slave dared do such a thing? Tell me and he shall be punished. Whipped within an
inch of his miserable existence.’
Lydia stepped backwards. The last thing she needed was her father exploding. But he had to understand that it was the only way they could have survived.
‘I took the decision to sell the wine, Father.’ Lydia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A small gesture, but enough to keep her hands from shaking. She ignored the man standing a little way to her right and concentrated on her father. She had to make her voice sound slow and calm. ‘Publius agreed with me. It was the right thing to do.’
‘You sold the wine,’ he father repeated in an unbelieving voice.
‘Yes, and the gold is spent.’ Lydia felt the edge of the table jab into her thighs. She hated the expression on her father’s face. She wanted to curl up in a ball and hide. ‘It was wrong of me not to tell you before—’
‘When did you plan on telling me you had done this, Lydia?’ Her father’s voice cut her like a lash. ‘Taken my seal without asking and sold something you had no right to. By Jupiter Maximus, you need a husband who will control you. I should never have listened to you or your brother. You will not have a say in who you marry.’
Lydia’s throat refused to work. She wanted to explain, but her father was not giving her a chance. The doctors and soothsayers had wanted more than fresh air, then there was the apothecary. Her father had turned towards Fabius Aro now, all fawning and apologetic.
What should she have done? Allowed her father to die? Or if not to die, to live disgraced? Her father’s position as a senator was important to him, to the whole family. She refused to allow him to lose that simply because the Fates had decreed him to fall ill.
‘I did it for you, Father,’ she whispered, but he gave no sign of hearing.
Sold and Seduced Page 2