But he’d been in this situation before—behind enemy lines, under attack, and down to his last bullet.

If there were any other option, he would have jumped at it, but he knew in his gut that this was the only way for him and Sophie to have a shot at a future together. He was going to have to bare his godforsaken soul and hope that she stuck around.

At least for another week or two.

“Rule number four,” Sophie recited, finishing up her usual welcome to the members of the Debutante Underground. “We shall always speak the truth, the best we know it. Now then, I believe we’re ready to begin. Would anyone like to read this week’s column?”

Several women raised their hands to volunteer, but Sophie’s gaze was drawn to Violet, the maid she’d met a couple of weeks ago. She sat on the edge of her chair, her face pinched and pale. Her thin shoulders trembled as though she was chilled, even though the room was toasty. “Violet, are you feeling well?” Sophie asked.

“Excuse me,” the dark-haired woman mumbled, pushing her chair back from the table and rushing toward the door.

Sarah, the young widow seated next to her, popped out of her seat. “I’ll make sure Violet’s all right,” she said to Sophie. “Please, proceed with the meeting.”

Sophie nodded and selected another member of the group to read. But as soon as the discussion was underway, she slipped out the door of the shop to see how Violet was faring. Sophie found her and Sarah in the alley outside the shop. Violet leaned against the brick wall with her eyes closed, greedily inhaling the cool night air. Sarah stood beside her, giving her shoulder gentle, soothing pats.

Sophie shot Sarah a questioning look, and the pretty redheaded woman responded with a smile that was both sad and serene.

“Violet,” Sophie said softly, “do you require a doctor?”

“No,” she answered quickly. “This happens sometimes, but it always passes. I’m feeling better already.”

Sophie cast a skeptical glance at the woman’s pallor. “Are you certain?”

“I’m familiar with these symptoms,” Sarah said, matter-of-fact. “I’ve two young ones myself.”

Sophie blinked as Sarah’s words sank in, and she chided herself for not guessing the truth sooner. “You’re with child?” she asked, her voice tinged with both relief and concern.

The bright red flush on Violet’s cheeks was answer enough.

“When do you expect the babe?” Sarah asked gently.

“I think I’m about six months along.” A tear trickled down Violet’s face. “I haven’t told my family, although I’m sure they must suspect. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Sarah said, but lines marred her normally smooth forehead. “Can the baby’s father help?”

“No.” A sob erupted from Violet’s throat. “He fired me.”