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begging .”
    Sophie’s chest heaved and her heart felt heavy. “Perhaps that is best,” she said.
    “You’ll meet me here tomorrow?” His voice was diffident, and he didn’t look at her. Sophie smiled to herself.
    “Of course. You make my day brighter.”
    He still wouldn’t look at her, but he smiled to himself, and he held her hand all the way to the front gate. Sophie turned to look back at him before she opened the front door, and he waved before turning away.
    “My lord, he’s adorable,” she whispered to herself. She watched him walk away. “A big, strong man one minute and a little boy the next. I don’t know if I want to pinch his cheeks or kiss him senseless.”
    Delia had taken to her bed , much to Sophie’s relief . She let out the breath she’d been holding when Mrs. Ferguson came bustling out of the kitchen to tell her so, her round face creased with worry.
    “What are you going to do, Sophie?” she asked. “You know , if you have nowhere to go, you can share quarter s with my sister. I sent a boy over with a note, and she’s agreed. It would be crowded there and not what you’re used to, but it would be a roof over your head.”
    Sophie hugged the small, round woman to her. “That’s the sweetest thing,” she choked out . “Let me see what I can do first, but it may very well come to that.”
    “My sister would be glad to have you,” Mrs. Ferguson said. “She’s a good woman, and she’d treat you a sight better than your own sister does.”
    Sophie forced herself to work hard all afternoon, hoping it would distract her from her gloomy thoughts. How she wished she had someone to talk to, she thought as she scrubbed the fireplace in the sitting room. She needed someone who would listen to her fears and reassure her that everything would be all right. Someone to tell her everything was going to work out fine.
    Someone who would tell her what to do, because she hadn’t the faintest idea.
    The next morning, Sophie heaved herself from her bed, still thinking about her predicament. She pulled on her clothes, feeling hopelessly weary. She hadn’t slept well. The night had been full of vivid dreams – ones where Delia had cast her into the street, where Jackson had laughed in her face when she told him she wanted to go with him, and Mrs. Ferguson’s sister had turned out to be a monster that stood over her with a whip.
    To her surprise, Delia sat at the kitchen table. Sophie sighed. She’d been hoping to eat a quick breakfast and hide from her all day. Sophie held her breath, waiting wearily for the fight to begin again. She almost tripped over a chair when Delia smiled cheerily at her instead.
    “Sophie!” she cried. “How are you this morning?”
    “I am just fine.” She poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot that sat on the sideboard and smiled her thanks when Mrs. Ferguson brought her a plate of eggs.
    “You’re not holding a grudge from yesterday, are you?” Delia fluttered her eyelashes, and Sophie took a sip of her coffee to keep from rolling her eyes.
    “No, of course not,” she said. “You seemed the one who had a grudge, not me.”
    “I was merely upset.” Delia put her hand on Sophie’s, and she struggled against the desire to pull it away. She couldn’t help but believe this was false – Delia hadn’t been this nice to her since she’d arrived on her doorstep. What, exactly, had made her change her mind?
    Sophie drained her coffee, wanting to get away from this table. Whatever game Delia was playing, she could play it alone.
    “Let me get you another cup of coffee, dear.”
    Delia plucked the mug from her hand and swept away with it before Sophie could say a word. Sophie stared at her back, wondering just why Delia was being so nice.
    Delia put the mug in front of her with a sweet smile.
    “Drink up, dear one.” She slipped into her chair and drank her own coffee . “My, Mrs. Ferguson makes a fine cup of coffee, doesn’t she?”
    “Yes, she