“I can instruct you on marriage, tomorrow, myself. The primary requirement for you, M. Montfort, is that you agree to bring the children up Catholic.”

“If we have any,” he’d been surprised to hear himself say, “why not?”

Hugh didn’t believe. But he wanted to. It would be nice, in the end, to have hope. To think he might see Georgie again, and his baby. . . .

And if there were children, by some miracle, Hugh wanted them to have hope, too.

“But the wedding—Tom won’t come,” Sophie said miserably.

“My dear child, Thomas won’t attend in any case. As your priest, I advise you to make the commitment before God, and continue on with your lives. It’s while he thinks he can stop this marriage that Thomas will be most opposed. After you’re wed, he’ll have to live with it. In my judgement, marrying sooner, rather than later, is your best chance to reconcile with your son.”

Sophie nodded, and stopped crying. Hugh took her back to the hotel. The priest had been shrewd. Perhaps faith in God wasn’t just for the credulous and the cowardly.

Hugh was pleased it was going to be a church wedding, but mostly, he was just glad that Sophie was going to be his.

“This is it.” Sophie’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Wengen.” She clutched at him. “Oh, Hugh. It’s so exciting.”

And, he realized, it was.

“Come in, come in, please.” Henrich Brandt bowed and smiled, and Gertrud clucked around them, taking Sophie’s fur coat and hanging it in their cloakroom. “You are very welcome. Coffee? Schnapps?”

“Coffee would be terrific,” Hugh said. It had been a long day, and he wanted to be sharp.

“It is so good to see you again, Frau Massot,” Heinrich said. His old eyes sparkled, and Hugh thought he meant it. “You are most welcome in our home. Do you like it?”

Sophie glanced around; it was a luxurious chalet, furnished, rather incongruously, with every kind of modern gadget. There was a Japanese-style waterfall in one corner of the sitting room, a huge gas fire with the effect of true flames, and a flat-screen TV on one wall.

“It looks very comfortable,” she said, truthfully.

“Ach, we’re getting old. We need to be warm, these days; we need soft edges, and baths that are easy to get out of. You helped us afford this. And later, we can get a nurse to come, whenever we wish.” Heinrich pumped Sophie’s hand again, enthusiastically. “You helped us afford all this, Frau Massot. It’s a wonderful deal for us. And the pieces for the party, they helped, no?”

“We saw pictures,” Gertrud chimed in. “Of the new stores.” She clapped her hands, like a child. “Beautiful . . . finally, the pieces, the jewels, are displayed as they deserve. And people notice. Vielen, vielen Dank . . .”