Persona Non Grata by Ruth Downie Page B

invisible tear with her middle finger. “If only your poor father were here to talk to you!”
    Ruso folded his arms, “Even father couldn’t imagine that the widow next door is going to welcome the advances of a bankrupt.”
    “But you’re a war hero, dear!”
    “Of course I’m not! You haven’t gone around saying that to people, have you?”
    “Please try, Gaius. It’s for the sake of the family. Poor Lucius has gotten us all into a dreadful mess and I can’t think what else we can do, can you? I suppose you could try talking to Claudia, but she doesn’t have much influence over him, anyway.”
    Ruso was not sure how or why his former wife had appeared in the conversation. Suspecting he was about to be scolded yet again for not listening, he asked, “Over who?”
“That Severus, dear.”
When his face remained blank she said, “But surely Lucius told you?”
“Told me what?”
“Claudia is married to Severus now.”
    Ruso’s astonishment was such that all he could say was, “Oh.” He scratched his ear with his forefinger and pondered this unexpected complication. It was, of course, completely irrelevant. It was also . . . he was not sure what it was. His own former wife was married to an unscrupulous business agent who was related to the Gabinii. Surely even Claudia had more sense than that? Surely she had more taste?
    Surprise was followed by a brief moment of smugness. He had demonstrated—according to Claudia— many faults and failings during their marriage, but wresting land from innocent families and doing deals for the fourteen-year-old sisters of men who owed him money were not among them.
    “Claudia was never the right girl for you, anyway,” continued Arria. “I always said so. But Lollia is a nice woman. She could run her business— everyone says she’s far better at it than he was—and you could still carry on with your doctoring. She has some very good connections, you know. People who could pay you properly for a change.”
    Ruso recalled Valens once suggesting back in Britannia that what he needed was a rich widow. The thought was no less appalling now than it had been two years ago.
    “I’ve told her all about you,” continued Arria.
    “I see. And have you told her I’m looking for a wife?”
    She winced. “Oh dear. I suppose this is what happens when you mix with soldiers all the time. You will have to learn to be more subtle, dear. Now, I’ve invited her for dinner tomorrow night, but when you meet her you mustn’t say a word about what we’ve discussed. We don’t want to frighten her off.”
    “I think it’s more likely to be the other way around.”
    The paint on Arria’s lips stretched across a smile. “You’ll like her, Gaius. Trust me. I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought you weren’t suited. Now, before you disappear into the bath house, you must help me choose a menu.”
    You must help me choose a menu. Claudia had said that once, early in their marriage. He thought he had done rather well until she told him she would do it on her own the next time.
“I really don’t think this is the time to be holding dinner parties.”
Arria sighed. “Gaius, you’re not going to be awkward, are you?”
    “I’m not being awkward, I’m being practical. And I’m never any good at this social chit-chat business, anyway.”
    “Never mind, dear. We’ll blame that on the army. I’ll invite Diphilus; he’s good company. You can ask Lollia about her cough. And do try to look a little happier. She won’t be interested if she thinks you’re sulky. I’ll have your clothes brushed and pressed, and promise me you’ll have a shave and a haircut in the morning. You’re not in Britannia now, you know.”
    “I’m beginning to wish I was,” said Ruso, remembering with fondness the little room at the top of the steps, with the pot of wildflowers on the windowsill and the mystery products of Tilla’s cooking on the table.
    Arria was promising, “. . . chicken in dill