“It was fine,” she stammered, righting herself and going straight past Elise and into the kitchen. But her sister followed her, and she knew there was no way she was going to avoid talking about Wolfgang. It was silly—for some reason she wanted to keep her time with him secret, to have something that was just for her. But he’d told her things that needed to be shared.

“Your cheeks are very flushed,” Elise said. “He didn’t do anything to—”

“He didn’t do anything,” Addy interrupted, embarrassed and wishing her face wasn’t so easy to read. “But I am seeing him again this week.”

“So soon?” Elise echoed. “You’ve already made plans with him again?”

“Well, it seemed like a better idea than waiting for him to turn up unannounced, given the circumstances.”

They stared at one another until someone whistled from upstairs, and Elise called back. Clearly they’d organized a signal while she was gone.

“All clear, come down!” Elise called.

Addy poured herself a glass of water for something to do, slowly drinking it and trying to clear her head. Being rude to her sister for no reason wasn’t acceptable, she knew that, but she just wanted time to relive what it had felt like to be kissed by a man. She’d had bumpy-teethed kisses with boys her own age when she’d been younger, but having a man like Wolfgang take charge and actually kiss her, knowing exactly what he was doing, had been something else entirely.

“How did it go?” Harry asked. “Anything worth sharing?”

Addy set her water down and turned, finding Harry standing staring at her, running his fingers through his hair. But Cate was absent, and so was Jack, who’d barely left the attic bedroom since he’d arrived.

“I think we should go upstairs, so I can tell everyone,” she said, not looking at Elise.

“He told you something important?” Elise asked.

Addy nodded. “I know you hate him, Harry, but I’m just not so sure it could have been him. I mean, he’s told me twice now that Peter has received treatment for his wounds. Would he do that for him if he was capable of such things?”

Harry glared at her with such anger, such coldness, that she wrapped her arms around herself.

“I know you think he did something dreadful to your men, Harry, but today, being with him, it made me realize that we’re all the same. We’re just people who end up fighting for our country and the people we love. He’s a brother and a son, and his mother and sister want him back as much as we want our loved ones home.”

“Only we don’t murder in cold blood,” Harry muttered. “They’re barbarians, Adelaide. I don’t think they’re like us at all. And what’s to say he’s not stringing you along about Peter?”