Indeed, no one does. But then Belinda looks at Kat. No one else but his daughter, that is.

Belinda puts a hand to her mouth.

“Do you need me to call for a doctor?” I ask. “We have a telephone.”

Belinda shakes her head. “I need to know what is happening. Where is my husband?”

I inhale and then let my breath out slowly. “I don’t know where he is. There are many things I don’t know right now, but I do know that you and I need to talk. There are things I need to tell you and there are things you need to tell me.”

Belinda glances again at Kat. “Is she yours and his?”

“My . . . Martin was married before. To a woman named Candace, and he and she had a little girl. But Candace became very sick and now she’s in heaven with the angels.”

“He had . . . another wife?!” This fresh news seems to pierce the woman like a blade.

“Yes.” I keep my tone even and controlled, for Kat’s sake. “Kat is six; she’ll be seven in a couple of months. She doesn’t say very much, Belinda, but she’s very smart. I think we should have that tea and Kat can work on some puzzles while we talk. You can tell me all about your husband, James, all right? Can you do that?”

Belinda glances from me to the child and back. “How will that help?”

I turn to Kat. “I need you to go up to your room and work on some puzzles, love. Mrs. Bigelow and I are going to have tea and talk for a bit. There’s a good girl.”

Kat, who hasn’t taken her eyes off Belinda the entire time, lowers her gaze to Belinda’s protruding stomach.

“All right, then, Kat? Off you go. I’ll bring you up a sweet in a little bit,” I say, when Kat makes no move to obey. “The adults need to talk.”

A moment later, Kat turns from us and slowly leaves the room. I hear footfalls on the stairs.

I turn to Belinda. “When did you marry him? I need to know.”

Belinda hesitates only a moment. “July of last year.”

After me. He married her after me.

“When . . . when did you marry him?” Belinda nearly chokes on the words.

“March. Four months before he married you.”

New sobs spring up from within this woman. “So I am not . . . I am not truly married?”

“I don’t think that is our worst problem right now.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t believe this is happening. How can this be happening?”

At her words, my befuddled thoughts cease their racing and I realize the truth fully. Martin Hocking is not a poor soul shattered by grief. He’s a scheming liar. A philanderer. He doesn’t have a cousin named Belinda. He has another wife named Belinda. This poor woman and I have been duped, and surely the worst of it is we walked willingly into Martin’s trap. At least I know I did. I was seduced by his subtle charms and ample provision because I wanted to be. I hear my da saying to me that it is no shame to find you’ve a grand hole in your roof, but it is to leave it that way. “It’s happening because he wanted it to happen,” I reply. “And we let him.”