Fru Thorup peeked around the mass of his shoulders. “Don’t let him sell himself short, Else. He’s changed so much. You couldn’t ask for a better man.”
“I’ll bring the tray up later.” He closed the door. “Janne is wrong, you know.”
About him loving her? Or about him changing?
“Oh?” Her voice squeaked, and she returned to her seat. “In what way?”
With darkened cheeks, he handed her a fine cup of Royal Copenhagen sprinkled with tiny blue flowers. “For you.”
“Thank you.” From the heat in her cheeks, they had to be as red as his.
He sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall with his knees drawn up and spread wide, more laborer than aristocrat. He cradled his cup in long hands. “I’m not good enough for you, which is one of the reasons I need to move. It’s for your own sake.”
Else took a sip of her rich, sweet beverage. He hadn’t answered her question. “What are the other reasons?”
He flicked his chin toward the nearest boat. “Someday I’ll getcaught. I’ll probably be killed. I don’t want to put you in danger. Tomorrow I’ll move out of the boardinghouse and stay with a friend from work until I find a new place.”
“Wait.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. What was she thinking? What she was about to say didn’t make sense. “Don’t move out yet. Wait. Let me solve it.”
“Solve it?”
With her free hand she made starbursts in the air, three of them. “In physics, sometimes you have several equations. You don’t know how they fit together, but you know they do. You have to find the constant that unites them. Now I have three equations that don’t fit at all. Hemming, Henrik, the Havmand. I need to find the constant. Give me a week.”
“How? How am I supposed to live in the same house as you?” A longing ache filled his eyes. “How can I pretend that kiss didn’t happen?”
Perhaps Fru Thorup was correct about his feelings. Her own heart ached, but she slammed it shut. “You’ll figure it out. You’re good at pretending.”
He winced and glanced away. “And you? You can pretend?”
“I don’t have to.” She sat up straighter. “I kissed Hemming, not you. Since Hemming doesn’t exist, the kiss doesn’t exist. It’s only logical.”
He frowned and nodded. “Very well.”
“One week, and I’ll decide whether you move.”
He raised one eyebrow. “You’ll decide?”
“You said it’s for my sake. So I should make the decision.”
Hemming drew back his chin, but then a great grin broke forth. “Yes, you should.”
It was all rather disconcerting.
29
VEDBÆK
SUNDAY, AUGUST22, 1943
Henrik leaned back against the wall surrounding Lyd-af-Lys and pressed his palms to cold stone. Would Else come as promised? If she did, what would she say?
He hauled in a lungful of warm air. A steady breeze brushed the clouds into tendrils as silken as Else’s hair.
The past week since he’d revealed his identity had been difficult. On Monday, Else had been snippy with him at dinner, which earned her a dirty look from Laila. Else blamed her behavior on a bad day at work and apologized, saying, “Hemming has always been agenuinefriend.”
That hurt. Truth often did. And how could he blame her? Her friend Hemming didn’t exist, and in his place she’d found a wayward aristocrat.
Hemming’s silent ways had helped him interact with her as usual. By Friday, she’d treated him more as before, even granting him a few smiles. A soft look. A look that had been difficult to dismiss.
