“Who would have thought it of him?” Imelda asked me when we were having coffee together. At least, she was having coffee. I had switched to herbal teas, as coffee no longer agreed with me. “I would have designated him as a playboy, wouldn’t you? Out for pleasure and what he could get?”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” I said.

She looked at me critically. “Are you quite well?” she asked. “You don’t seem to be eating much these days.”

“Just some kind of stomach upset,” I said.

“You should see a doctor,” she said. “There are parasites in the water here, you know. You need to treat them as soon as possible so they don’t take hold.”

“No, really,” I began. “I don’t think . . .”

She was looking at me critically now. “I shouldn’t ask this,” she said, “but is it possible you are pregnant?”

I suppose my face must have flushed. Anyway, she understood. “You are? And what does the man say about this? The father?”

“I haven’t told him.”

“You must. He is equally responsible,” she said firmly. “Will he do the right thing and marry you?”

“He can’t. He’s already married.”

“Ah.” She looked at me so intently that I had to lower my gaze. Then she said, “Is it perhaps the son of the count who gave us a ride in his boat that day? I saw how he looked at you.” When I said nothing, she wagged a finger at me. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You are too observant,” I replied. “Please say nothing, Imelda. Nobody must know. I can’t even tell Leo. His family—they are really powerful. I’m afraid of what might happen to me.”

“If you really can’t tell him, then go home, while you can. You’ll be safe in England with your mother.”

I shook my head. “I can’t do that either. That’s just the problem. I can’t go home, Imelda. My mother is a pillar of her church. We live in a small village. Everyone would know. The shame would be awful. It might even kill my mother. Anyway, I couldn’t put her through that. I have decided to stay here until the baby is born and then give it up for adoption. Then I can go home as if nothing has happened, and nobody will ever know.”

“You’ll know.” She was still looking at me in a way that made me uncomfortable. “Is that what you want? To go home and forget? Forget you ever had a child? That you ever loved this man?”

“What choice do I have?” I heard the bleakness in my voice.

“Then maybe you should talk to him,” she said. “He is rich. A man of the world. He will surely know a doctor who can take care of this now, before it’s too late.”