“I didn’t make it up, Richard. I didn’t.” My voice was soft. Breathy. “There’s some explanation, I’m sure of it. I was thinking that I must have dreamed it, after all. I do that sometimes, you know.” It sounded so flimsy though, even to me. I remembered with instant clarity the way the maid’s face had looked when I’d described the woman I’d seen playing the pianoforte at night, after the first encounter. “What an odd little thing you are,” she’d said, and went on to explain what dreams were. “Yes, it was only a dream,” I tried again. “A silly dream after I saw the portrait as a girl. Of course I couldn’t have seen her.” Which meant she wasn’t here. Wasn’t in need of rescue.

But now, because of chasing her shadow, I was.

What on earth had I been thinking?

A thought struck. “Father’s been paying her way. Paying for this ward. She was here—I know it! Someone’s hidden her. Or hidden what happened to her. And Richard, there is someone setting me up. Playing music at night, leaving letters, making me believe I’ve gone mad.”

Pity stretched his face taut. “Eat well, be healthy, and I’ll be round to see you when they say it’s time to come home.” Those beautifully chiseled lips came near to brush my cheek and I jerked away, feeling his warm breath on my temple. His arm stiffened. “Very well, then.” His voice was a whisper, his expression firm. “Hate me if you like, Vivvi. But this is best.”

My chest heaved in and out, neck tense clear down to my shoulders. How I wished for a pianoforte that I may bang out my anger upon its keys and let it be felt throughout the house. None of this made sense. None of it. But he should be helping me sort it out. Believing in me. “Richard.” I gave him one final chance, standing poised and tall in my rope-belted gown. “Please tell me you’re joking. That this is part of some alternate escape plan.”

His gaze turned on me with pity. Sheer, sickening pity.

“What of our future? All those things you said? We can’t have those things if . . .”

He stood for a moment before answering. “You’ve always had your eccentricities, but I overlooked those for the good traits—your sensible, decent ways. Intelligence. Passion. You were a woman I could respect.” He shook his head. “I’m beginning to realize I shouldn’t have written off those quirks.”

“Are you saying—”

“I don’t know.” His voice was quiet. “There’s never been anyone for me but you. Not ever. But . . . I’m not certain what to think. What I should do.”

Nurse Duffy knocked and entered. “Time’s up.”