"La, if only you would give me some hint. Some detail that might prod my memory."

"Are you angry with me, Sofie?" he asked huskily. Apparently it didn't suit him to believe any woman might not remember an encounter with him. "You know I could make you no promises, nor return again."

"Oh?" she asked with a dawning interest. "Why not?"

"You do remember!" he exclaimed instantly. "But then you know why, my love. How could I promise to come back, when I was to wed the moment I returned to England?"

"I see," Callie said. She stopped. She could feel her cheeks growing hot under the veil. "You were engaged to an English lady?"

He shrugged, walking on with her. "Yes. I told you then, Sofie. I didn't hide it. I thought you understood."

"So of course, you were in love."

He gave a brusque snort. "Nothing of the sort. In fact I didn't care for her—she's a chilly woman, with a dull wit and no beauty. What little time I had with you was precious, when I knew what I must go back to."

Callie blinked. She bit her lip. With a sense of turning a knife in her own breast, she said, "How sad for you, Monsieur. A man like you, to marry a plain woman."

"Not a pleasant prospect, I admit. But fate inter vened, and I didn't marry her after all," he said.

"Fate?" she inquired with an effort. "Did you discover some prettier heiress?"

He took her hand, kissing it. "Of course not. Do you think me a fortune hunter? She died before the wedding."

Callie hid her gasp in a choked laugh. "What a fortunate escape for you, then! And still you didn't return to me?"

"I could not, my love. I was posted to the West Indies."

She stood frozen in sick amazement at his gall. After breaking off with her, he had wed Miss Ladd and gone to Norwich to have three children; he had not been posted to the West Indies. For a moment she could think of nothing to say. They had been strolling slowly, and the door of the Gerard lay only a few steps ahead. It seemed to her to be a portal of escape now, a place she could run away and hide. A furious part of her wanted to tear off her veil and reveal herself, but she could not be so rash in spite of the ugly lump in her throat. She had to be rid of him.

"It's a very affecting story, Monsieur," she said, assuming a cold hauteur. "I thank you for telling me, but still I don't recall anything of our meeting. I think perhaps you have confused me with another lady. Now I must leave you. Adieu."