“I would know. God would know.”
There was a long silence.
“I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I cling too tightly to you. It’s just, you’re the only friend I’ve ever possessed.”
Thomas reached out a hand and caught hers. She was still and cold, like a woman carved of ice. “I truly wish I didn’t have to leave.” He faltered. “Leave you.”
“Don’t think of it. You deserve your happiness. You deserve every happiness.”
“Come with us.” The words came in an impulsive tangle.
She blinked, opened her mouth, and then closed it again. And then laughed, though it was not quite mirthful. “An unattached woman with a child, travelling with two gentlemen not her relations? Even in the darkest recesses of Europe that would be a scandal.”
“Would it matter?”
“Perhaps not for me.” She looked thoughtful. “But it is not the life I wish for Hope. And”—a twist of a smile—“I cannot imagine Micha would thank you for the invitation.”
Thomas blushed. He had spoken entirely from the heart, heedless of anything else. “You do seem to trouble him,” he admitted.
“I care little for him, but he is a far greater enemy to himself than I could ever be.”
“He is better than he believes.”
“Since he’s the man you want, I hope for your sake that he is.”
There was another silence. Sheba’s fingers stirred restlessly beneath Thomas’s. Then she whispered, “Stay.”
It was what some part of him had been desperate to hear. But could he? Could it work? It would seem odd, not to marry. Yet no one would suspect his relationship with Micha anything more than the natural affection of two gentlemen friends. Could they live that way? Always pretending? Always hiding. Always hypocrites. Always sinners. “I cannot.”
They gazed at each other, equally torn, equally decided.
Sheba nodded sadly. “I think Hope and I could have a life here. She wants adventures, of course, but if I can give her stability now, she might someday find her own.”
“I would have loved to be part of that life. To make things less precarious for both of you.”
“You’ve done more than enough. Enough to have earned that cup of tea, at least.”
He tried to smile.
“I have somewhere to live. I have a job.”
“You’re a servant.”
“Yes, but a respectable one. It does not pay so well as harlotry, but the hours suit me better.” Another of her wicked smiles to ease the harshness of the words. “And perhaps one day I will rise again to housekeeper, through merit this time. I may even have a home of my own.”
“If only I could give you that home. If it lay within my power, I would give you the world, so you might give it to Hope.”
“You’ve given us kindness. And now you must think of your own life. Your own future.”
Thomas cast his anxious gaze at the ceiling. “I should go to him.”
Sheba gave his hand a brief squeeze and then rose, shaking out her skirts. “If I may, I will come again tomorrow.”
“I ... yes, would you?” He shifted self-consciously. “I don’t know what I would have done if you had not been here tonight.”
“How many days has it been?”
Thomas stared at her blankly. It had all become such a blur he had lost track. “Six or seven, perhaps.”
