And as for Barbara, her body and heart had been broken enough.

Lily clenched her jaw, reached in her pocket, and handed the letter to Archie.

He read it in silence. On reading the signature, he said, “Is he a relation then of your old friend Colonel Graeme, who formerly led the town guard?”

“Aye. His son.”

“Very nice. ’Tis a well-written letter with honorable sentiments.” Handing it back to her, Archie said, “Burn it.”

She stared at him, feeling her cheeks flame in sudden defiance.

Archie lifted his eyebrows a fraction. “That letter does give ye the power to leave us. Ye ken that I’ll not let that happen. Think how it would devastate Barbara.”

Unmoved, Lily told him, “The letter is mine. I’ll not burn it.”

He shrugged. “Ye must do as ye think best.” She knew that tone. Knew it, and feared it. He said, “Did ye ken Walter’s wife came to see me last year? No, ’twould be a bit more than a year ago, now. They’d been having some trouble with money, she said. Walter never could manage it well. She asked for my help.”

Lily guessed what was coming, but still she denied it. “No.”

“Oh, aye. She’s worked for me since then. In private, like. We have to keep it from Walter, he’d never approve, but he works such long hours he’s not bound to notice. And ye’ve played a part in deceiving him, too, all those times ye looked after the bairn for her, when she said she was just off to the market or wanted a rest.”

Lily told him, “You’re lying. If she were back again and working for ye, Simon would have said something to Walter. Nothing goes on in the Paunchmarket that Simon doesn’t see.”

“My dear,” said Archie, “I’d never be such a fool as to put the lass back in the house on the Paunchmarket. No, there are always arrangements that can be made with the right gentlemen. Quiet. Discreet. It keeps everyone happy. Even the lass, I would wager.” His smile was thin. “Once a whore, always a whore.”

Lily felt her hand clench round her letter more tightly. “Barbara believes that ye have a soul.”

That small arrow appeared to strike home, but just as grazing an animal with a missed shot only made it more fierce, Lily’s comment seemed only to make Archie more cruel.

“The bairn,” he said, “might not be Walter’s. It probably isn’t. It would be a shame if he learnt that. He’s so much in love with the lad that I doubt he’d recover from such a hard blow.” Archie’s voice was as smooth as a monument stone, and as cold, and she hated herself then for ever thinking he could have a heart. With the eyes of a man who knew well he held all the cards, Archie looked down once again at the letter she held in her hand and said, “If ye would have me keep silent, if ye would spare Walter the pain of that secret, then burn that.”