But instead of reacting she stood and watched her sister see him out, smiling and laughing, until she finally shut the door behind him. The way he looked at her, the way he touched her so openly, made her sick. She knew that many Germans were probably no different from their French soldiers; young men who hadn’t had a choice about joining the war and were just doing their duty. But this man, this Wolfgang? He’d already shown his cruelty, which in her eyes made him no better than Hitler himself. She had no reason to doubt Harry; if he said Wolfgang had been the one to give the order, then she believed him.

“Bastard,” Elise whispered, wishing she had had the courage to say it to his face.

“What was that?” Addy spun around, looking as giddy as if she’d been on a date with her sweetheart.

“I have something I need to tell you, Addy,” Elise said, reaching for her sister’s hand. “Adelaide, I’m so sorry, but Harry, well, he recognized Wolfgang today.”

“Recognized him? From where?”

“From what happened the other day.” Elise swallowed, seeing the confusion in Addy’s eyes. “He was the one who gave the order to shoot. It was him we watched that day from the bedroom. He’s responsible for killing Harry and Peter’s entire regiment.”

Adelaide pulled her hand away and pushed past her, but Elise saw the shock on her face, and when she collected their empty cups, the china audibly shook in her hands.

“Perhaps Harry got it wrong? I mean, after everything he’s been through, after . . .”

As her words trailed, Elise moved in front of her, searching her gaze.

“Harry’s not wrong,” she said, seeing that she needed to be firmer with her. “Adelaide, he’s a murderer, that man you just swanned off with and made eyes over the table at. He’s the reason those poor men upstairs are—”

Her sister pushed past her again, but Elise wasn’t standing for it.

“Adelaide!” she scolded. “You do not walk away from me like that!”

“Why not?” Addy asked, spinning around, her hands on her hips now. “Why can’t I choose to ignore you? And why are you choosing to believe Harry over me? You’re not my mother, and it wasn’t like I had a choice in the matter when he came calling for me!”

Her words stung, but Elise refused to acknowledge the hurt. “Well, if you don’t want me to be your mother, then you’d better start behaving like an adult, Adelaide.”

“Has it even occurred to you, even once, that maybe I’m acting the part?” she asked. “That maybe I decided that it would be more helpful to play along, to be the fun, flirty French girl with him?”