What a simple way to get a bit of advice—one she’d never thought of when it came to this. “So I’m just being unreasonable?”

“Impatient, anyway.” Ivy beamed a smile of pure sunshine at her. “We must grant them time. And give them the certainty that whatever nightmares haunt them, we’re willing to stand by their sides. Willing to be silent about it, if that’s what they need. Willing to listen if and when they’re ready to talk.”

Lily bumped her shoulder into Ivy’s. “When did you get to be so grown-up, anyway?”

“Gracious if I know. Probably when I had to learn how to wrangle a classroom full of eleven-year-olds on my own.” She bumped Lily’s shoulder back. “May I say one more thing?”

Lily chuckled. “Could I keep you from it?”

Her sister studied her for a moment as they turned in unison toward their bedrooms. “I don’t think it’s just a matter of whether you think he trusts you. I think it’s a matter of whether you trust him.”

“And she’s grown wise too,” Lily said to the portrait of Great-Aunt Matilda on the wall.

Great-Aunt Matilda clearly found it a marvel as well. The arch of her brows said so.

Ivy laughed. “I have to think it’s that his previous world was so far removed from what’s familiar to us. I can convince myself that I don’t need to know what happened aboard the ship because it’s nothing every other wife and sweetheart of a sailor isn’t wondering too. It’s not unusual—whatever he lived through, and his silence. But Mr. Marin . . . his experiences are surely quite different from the average English lad’s. So, can you live with that, or is it cause to break things off?”

The words sent a jolt through Lily, making her pause with her hand outstretched toward her door. “Who said anything about breaking things off?” She couldn’t imagine doing that. Or wanting to do that. Her questions, and Hall’s doubt, weren’t loud enough to drown out the allure of another hour in Zivon’s company. Of hearing the beautiful way he shaped his vowels, of watching him take in the world around him. Of seeing his thoughts go deeper and deeper the longer they talked. Of cajoling him into teaching her a common phrase in a language she didn’t know.

What would a week be without learning how to say “pass the salt” in Slovakian or Bulgarian or Portuguese?

Ivy opened her door for her, presenting the chamber with a flourish of her hand. “Things can’t go on as they are forever, you know. You either move forward or you give him leave to pursue someone else. He isn’t exactly fresh from university. He’ll want a wife sooner or later.”