“I could discover,” Henri offered eagerly. “This afternoon I will follow Monsieur Foakes, as—as a Bow Street runner might do. And I will see where he spends his time.”

“Absolutely not, Henri,” Sophie replied, looking at the boy with affection. “I think we shall pretend that this conversation never happened. Weren’t we planning to see the lion at the Exchange?”

And Henri agreed. But in the early evening he sidled into the drawing room in such a way that Sophie knew instantly that something was wrong.

“What happened, chéri? Are you all right?”

Henri walked over and stood next to her. Then he burst out, “I did follow him, Lady Sophie. Although you instructed me not to do so. He has … I thought I had lost him on Bond Street, and then he came out of a building. And oh, Lady Sophie, Monsieur Foakes does have a lady friend.”

Sophie’s stomach heaved. “Henri,” she said, “that was not the correct thing to do. It was monstrous improper for you to have followed Patrick anywhere.” Dimly, she listened with amazement to her unshaken voice.

In Henri’s eyes was a confused sense of betrayal. He adored Sophie, and Patrick’s behavior went against his sense of loyalty.

“It’s not right!” he said furiously. “I shall tell him so! This … this black-haired woman … bah! She is a—a pig compared to you!”

Sophie almost smiled at that. But her heart was hurting too much. So Patrick had a black-haired charmer. Likely the woman was his mistress before they married, and he’d never broken off the relationship.

“Henri, it was not proper of you to follow Patrick anywhere, especially in order to observe him with … with his friend.” Her eyes commanded Henri’s attention.

He felt a prickle of shame. “But I didn’t believe them,” he burst out. “When they said, downstairs, that Monsieur Foakes was with a courtesan, I didn’t believe them!”

Sophie’s heart wrung. Henri’s pointed little face looked so unhappy. “‘Tis the way of the world, Henri,” she said gently, putting an arm around the boy. “It means naught for a marriage … it’s just the way of things.”

Henri went in to supper unconvinced. Sophie went in to supper miserable. She had never had a chance at Patrick’s heart. A black-haired woman was there before her. And Patrick was likely sharing an intimate meal with his mistress, because he didn’t appear at all.

That night Sophie lay in her bed awake until three in the morning, hoping, praying that tonight Patrick would come to her bed. But at last she heard him come in, dismiss his valet, and fall into his own bed.