She was ridiculously proud of him. Not only because of what he was doing for Violet, but because of what he was doing for himself. He was slaying his demons, dragging them out into the light. It wasn’t going to be easy, fighting all the guilt and grief and pain he felt about losing his brother and Conroy. He’d have to manage those emotions for the rest of his life … but he’d taken the first steps.

He wasn’t the same man she’d met a couple of months ago in that very spot in the tailor’s shop. He was climbing out of his dark, gloomy underworld, doing his best to leave the shadows behind.

For the first time since she’d said goodbye to him, Sophie breathed a little easier. She still longed to see his warm, brown eyes, to hear his deep, gruff voice, and to lay her head against his hard, muscled chest. But at least she knew he was going to be all right—and she took some comfort from knowing she might have played a small part in initiating his healing.

“You must let me know when the babe arrives,” Sophie said to Violet. “I can hardly wait to find out if you shall have a boy or a girl.”

“Will you visit us?” Violet asked, her dark eyes pleading.

“I’ll try,” Sophie said, but she knew it would be difficult. Especially if Violet was living at Warshire Manor. “In the meantime, I’ve gathered a few things I thought might come in handy.”

She stood, retrieved a basket from behind the counter, and handed it to the young pregnant woman. Sophie had used the last of her money from the newspaper to buy some swaddling blankets, baby booties, bonnets, and a rattle. Violet thanked her profusely, then hugged her and Sarah before waddling out of the shop.

Sarah remained behind, helping Sophie wash a few dishes, straighten the furniture, and set the tailor’s shop to rights. But when the young widow glanced at the clock and realized it was almost eleven o’clock, she clucked her tongue and scooped up her shawl. “I had better go before my sister thinks I’ve left London on a holiday.”

“Take care of yourself and your sweet girls.” Sophie handed her a few wrapped packages that contained dolls for the girls and a pretty hair comb that she’d known would look lovely in Sarah’s auburn curls.

They clung to each other for a few seconds, and then Sarah pressed a kiss to her cheek and dashed out the door, into the night.

Sophie took one last turn about the deserted shop, so full of memories. It was where she’d prepared valerian-root tea for Reese and where they’d wagered buttons on a game of vingt-et-un. It was where she’d watched him sleep and where she’d started to give him her heart.