By then the waiting had become unbearable. Maggie shrugged free of Jamie and hurried to the door of the coach, which stood open. One seat had been removed, and Reeve was there, sitting rigidly upright in an invalid’s chair. There wasn’t a flicker of recognition in his face, and Maggie felt her heart sink.

She would have climbed into the carriage, but Jamie and the driver shuffled her aside to lift Reeve’s chair out. He didn’t react to the jostling motion at all, he just stared vacantly into space.

“Reeve?” Maggie whispered.

There was no response at all, not even a look or a twitch of a muscle. Reeve looked like one of the wax figures Maggie had once seen in a London museum.

Jamie gave her a gentle look and then he wheeled Reeve toward the house. On Maggie’s instructions he and the driver took him upstairs to his room.

“Leave us alone, please,” Maggie requested hoarsely, and both men obediently went out.

“Reeve.”

He was staring not at Maggie, but through her, as though she were invisible. Her heart twisted painfully, and she stepped up to him and took his hand gently into her own, laying it to her stomach.

“There’s a child growing inside me, Reeve,” she said. “Your child.”

She saw a muscle beneath his ear move almost imperceptibly, and once again joy swelled within her. She bent to kiss Reeve’s forehead. “I love you,” she said. “I love you now and I’ll love you always.”

One tear pooled in Reeve’s eye and slipped down his granite cheek. Maggie then knew for certain that he was going to get well.

It was her farewell performance, and by the time it was over, the audience was on its feet, shouting and clapping. With the others, Maggie took her bows.

In the wings, Samuel lifted her off her feet and planted a smacking kiss on her cheek. “You were sensational!” he said.

Maggie laughed with happiness. She was going to miss Samuel very much; he’d been a true friend, helping her with her performances and never making the kinds of demands that other men might have. “So were you,” she answered somewhat breathlessly once her feet were back on the floor again. People were pressing all around, but she lingered, looking up into Samuel’s face. “You’re not angry with me? About—about the tour, I mean?”

Samuel smiled and took her upper arms into his hands. “How could I be angry with you when your eyes shine like that? Your tragic little face was breaking my heart.”

Maggie reached up to touch his smooth-shaven cheek. “Be happy always, Samuel,” she said softly, and then she turned to leave.