“You left the party.”

“The noise was hurting my ears,” Sophie explained, trying to be polite.

“You ruined Heloise’s party,” the woman hissed. “Ruined it all.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We all had to look for you. We thought you’d drowned.”

Sophie shook her head. “I know how to swim,” she tried to reassure her hostess. “My mum made both my brother and me take lessons before we were allowed to go exploring on our own.”

The woman’s lips curled in disgust. “Perhaps your mum should have also taught you that stealing is rude. Taking things that aren’t yours.”

“I wasn’t stealing,” Sophie told her. “I was just reading. And I was going to put it back when I was done.”

Mrs. Postlewaithe looked down at the Latin primer. “And you’re a liar too,” she sneered. “You can’t read this.”

“I can.” Sophie had never been called a liar by a grown-up before. It made her stomach feel awful. “It’s just Latin,” she tried to explain. “And this book starts with basic grammar in tables and uses that to build up more complex sentences. It’s not that hard. I could show you.”

“I don’t need you to show me anything. I know my place in this world. You need to learn yours.”

Mrs. Postlewaithe stared at Sophie and Sophie had stared back.

“You are an unnatural creature,” the woman continued, her expression as hard and cold as the diamonds that hung from her neck. “No one will ever want you. There is something wrong with you.”

That conversation had been thirteen years ago, but Sophie had never forgotten it.

“Am I unnatural?” Sophie asked, staring up at the ceiling.

Beside her, Piotr rolled over in bed. His dark hair was thoroughly tousled, eyes the color of the Baltic Sea thoroughly amused. “Is this a trick question? A test for new husbands?” He propped his head up on his hand.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“You deserve it with questions like that.” He reached over and stroked her bare shoulder. “You’re not having regrets, are you?”

“I regret we did not do this sooner.”

“That makes two of us.” Piotr Kowalski was smiling as he said it. “If I had known that you would have said yes, I would have asked you to marry me the day you ran me over with your bicycle.”

“I did not run you over. I avoided you and hit a tree. Mostly.”

“No, I think you ran me over on purpose. You couldn’t help yourself,” he teased.

“I ran you over because I was late for work. And you should know that I did my best not to fall in love with you.”

“Mmm.” Piotr leaned forward and kissed her with a thoroughness that curled her toes. “You never stood a chance, wife.”