He said nothing at dinner, with the servants there. Nor did he tell her while they sat by the fire in the library afterward, in case she should become distraught and make a scene. He waited until they had retired and were completely alone.

Rose had a small boudoir just off their bedroom. She’d told her lady’s maid she wouldn’t need her, and she was sitting there alone, taking off her earrings. He stood beside her.

“I’ve bad news, Rose,” he said.

“I’m sorry, dear.”

“It’s very bad news. You have to prepare yourself.”

“I’m ready, dear. Have we lost all our money?”

“Yes.”

“Do we have anything left?”

“Maybe. Fifty thousand dollars. Something like that. The brokerage is finished. The houses have to go. This one included.” He needed to stop for a moment. She glanced up at him, and took his hand.

“It isn’t a surprise, you know. I’ve been expecting it.”

“You have?”

“I guessed you were in trouble. So many people are.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“What do you want to say?”

“I’m … I’m just so sorry.” He almost broke down, but he held himself together. “What’ll you do?”

“What’ll I do? Live with you, of course. However you like, wherever you like. That’s all I want.”

“But after all this …”

“We’ve had a wonderful life. Now we’ll have another wonderful life. Just different.”

“What’ll Charlie do?”

“Work,” she said, firmly.

“I just—” he began, but she stopped him.

“I want you to get into bed now,” she said.

It was a minute or two before she came from her boudoir. To his surprise, she wasn’t wearing a nightdress. She was quite naked, except for the pearl choker he’d given her. She was a middle-aged woman, but she’d kept her figure. The effect was wonderfully erotic. He gave a little gasp.

She stood by the bed, reached back and slowly unfastened the choker. Then she handed it to him.

“This should fetch quite a bit.” She smiled.

He took it unwillingly. “I never want you to part with this,” he muttered.

“You’re all I need,” she said simply. “That’s what matters.” And as she got in beside him, she pulled him to her.

“I don’t think I can,” he said sadly.

“Shh,” she whispered, and pulled his head onto her breast. “I think you should weep, now. It’s time.”

It was several hours later, long after they had made love and her husband had fallen asleep, that Rose Vandyck Master lay very still and stared at the ceiling.

She was glad it was over, really. Eighteen months had passed since she’d first guessed her husband was in trouble, and it hadn’t been easy seeing him suffer. But there’d been nothing she could do except watch and wait.