The rest of the evening, the others strictly limited the conversation, and no one was put upon to speak on any topic. Gardena and Tony both seemed angry, but I couldn't tell whether with themselves or each other. We had our dinner, then went to the veranda for drinks.

I instructed Pearson to pay the musicians well for their service, then led the guests to the parlor for coffee and dessert. The art books lay forgotten; no one seemed interested in playing tableaux that night.

The mood improved as the night went, and soon it was time for goodbyes. Kitty begged my forgiveness, which I was glad to give. She seemed so innocent of life; I wondered if it was good for her to seclude herself in this way. Lance thanked me for the evening, and for the introduction to Gardena. How he felt now that he saw her performance at dinner, it was difficult to say. Major Blackwood told me I performed admirably; I wasn't sure Tony would see it the same way. Anastasia reminded me to stop by for tea soon. I told her I'd send a note when I planned to visit.

And then it was Jonathan and Gardena, Tony and myself.

"Shall we return to the veranda?" Gardena said. "I wish a word with Mr. Spadros in private."

Jon frowned. Tony shrugged. I said, "Certainly."

I took Tony's arm and we strolled down the hall. Perhaps Gardena wanted to apologize for her part in the unpleasantness between them.

No one said anything as we entered the dining room. The table was cleared, the candles blown out, and the lights turned off. But the veranda was still lit, giving the room a ghostly glow.

Tony opened the glass-paneled door for Gardena, glancing back at us. "This should only take a moment."

Jon and I sat on the side of the table nearest to the veranda doors, turning our chairs to face each other. Tony and Gardena went outside; Tony pulled the doors shut.

"Well," I said, "that could have gone better."

Jon smiled to himself. "You did fine."

It felt good to see Jon again. The last time I had seen him was in my parlor two weeks ago, when I prepared to rescue David Bryce. So much had happened since then. I felt as if I was a different person ... and I wasn't sure I liked the feeling. I had never kept anything from Jon before. But now ... now, there seemed to be a distance between us.

"You seem different," Jonathan said.

"Oh?"

"I've never heard you speak like you did at dinner before."

"Oh," I said, smiling to myself. "What part of it seemed different to you?"

Jon leaned against the arm of his chair. "I don't know — your bearing. It was as if you came into some strength you didn't know of before. What's happened?"

I couldn't tell him, so I shrugged. "I was ill recently. Perhaps that's it."

Jon nodded slowly, eyes downcast. "That does give you time for thought." He took my hand. "I'm glad you're well now."

Gardena and Tony stood a few feet apart, faces pensive. Tony seemed to be explaining something, but quietly, as if deeply disturbed, almost melancholy.

Tony rarely showed emotion to anyone. Seeing him this vulnerable in front of Gardena ... it made me uneasy.

I felt Jonathan watching me. The expression on his face reminded me of the little boy I saw on Market Center, the boy who looked so much like Tony's grandfather. "Jon, may I ask a personal question?"

Jon smiled, leaning his arm on the table, his expression open and earnest, his manner comfortable and easy. "My love, you may ask anything your heart desires."

He always could make me smile. "I saw a young boy a few weeks ago, and he reminded me of you." I hesitated. Did I want the answer?

Yes. There was nothing Jonathan could have done which would make me think less of him. "Do you have a son?"

Laughter burst from him. "Not that I know of!" He seemed astonished at the thought.

Tony and Gardena stood silent, faces downcast.

"Well, how about Jack? Was the boy his son? His name was Roland ... that's Jack's middle name, is it not? ... and he looks so much like you. He truly could be your son from his appearance."

Jon chuckled, but it seemed forced. "Jack once told me that he has never met a woman who distresses him in that way. I very much doubt this boy is his son."

I sighed. "Well, then, I don't know." I turned my chair to face the veranda, leaning my elbows on my knees. Their conversation was taking more than "a moment". Gardena said something, and Tony's mouth hung open, his eyes wide. Gardena nodded.

Jon said. "His name was Roland? How old?"

Gardena said something quiet but earnest. Tony replied in the same way. "Four, maybe."

"Oh!" Jon said. "My oldest brother's son is four now. It must be him."

Gardena's eyes went empty, and she spoke. Tony's face when he replied looked wistful, longing, nostalgic.

"I suppose it must." I was focused on Tony and Gardena outside as I spoke, but then I realized I was neglecting Jon. "I hope you're feeling well these days?"

Gardena's face tightened: annoyance, as if having to repeat something she had said many a time.

Jon relaxed, turning towards me. "I'm quite well, thank you."

Tony was in anguish at whatever Gardena said. From the way Tony's body moved his reply was vicious, and for an instant, I saw his father Roy in his eyes.

Gardena recoiled, then slapped Tony, hard, and pointed at him. You are a coward.

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Jon stood. "This is just one reason why my father doesn't want her to visit. Stay here." He went outside, closing the veranda doors behind him.

Why was Tony so upset? What could he possibly have said to make Gardena slap him?

Jon faced away from me, but spoke to both of them angrily. Tony and Gardena stared in my direction, appalled.

Could they possibly have forgotten I was here?

Tony and Gardena exchanged words. Jon stared at Gardena, shocked. Whatever she said, Tony's face turned red and his hands balled into fists. His stance frightened me.

Jon grabbed Gardena's arm, opened the veranda door, and dragged her inside.

Tears filled Gardena's eyes. "Jacqui, I am so very sorry." Her voice held compassion ... and remorse.

Why? What had she done? "But —"

"We should go," Jon said. "Thank you for inviting us." They went round the corner and were gone.

Tony stood outside, alone, the glare of the electric light behind him putting his face in darkness. I went to the door and opened it. "Tony? Are you well?"

Tony shook his head, face downcast, his shoulders slumped.

"What happened? Why did she strike you?"

He didn't move. "Gardena Diamond is a high-strung woman who's had too much to drink."

I took his hand and brought him inside. His cheek was red. "Gardena hardly touched her drink. Why did you argue?"

Tony didn't answer for quite a while. Then he sighed. "It's a long story, Jacqui. Next time, please consult me before you have people over."

I stood there, not knowing what to think or feel. It seemed as if I chose the exact wrong group of people to invite.

Tony turned to leave.

"Wait," I said. "I was wrong to invite who I did, but I was innocent of your Family's machinations. You even said as much. You, however, spent the entire evening trying to spite Gardena, with no regard for either my feelings or the people I invited. I don't know what happened between you two, but this is wrong."

Tony didn't meet my eye. "I'm sorry." He walked away.

Want to know what Tony and Gardena talked about?

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I turned off the veranda lights and went through the preparation room. In the storeroom, boxes stood beside the stair to my left. The door out to the stables stood open; the air was cool and smelled of rain.

A third of the way up the stair, a small figure sat slumped upon the steps.

Moving to the other side of the stairwell, I tiptoed up, curious as to who it might be. A stair creaked. The figure wheeled to face me in the darkness, quilt flying aside to reveal a pale face and eyes, dark hair. "Who's there?"

I crouched before him. "I mean you no harm."

"You're her. Our lady. Mrs. Spadros."

I sat beside him. "You're Amelia's boy."

His head drooped. "Yes, mum."

"What's your name?"

"Pip, mum."

"How old are you?"

"Ten."

Born about when Air died. "Aren't you cold out here?"

He shook his head. "It's not bad."

Crickets chirped outside.

"Why are you here, and not in your bed?"

Pip turned away to lean on the support. "They always argue. If I'm not around, they don't so much."

Peter and Amelia, arguing? "Why do they argue so much?"

Misery laced his voice in the darkness. "Because of me. They say it when they think I can't hear. If I wasn't here, they could get away from here. But they can't."

I remembered what Pip's father Peter said, after Roy Spadros tortured Amelia ...

"If we could leave, we would, but Mr. Roy would follow us, no matter where we went. We thought it would be better here, that Mr. Anthony could protect us. But —"

Pip spoke as if repeating something he heard once, then took to heart. "It would be better if I never was born."

Even in my worst days — after Air died, after I was brought here, the many terrifying days and nights — I never wanted to die. It never even crossed my mind. What happened to this boy? "I don't think it would be better if you never were born."

He sniffled. "Really?"

I sat next to him. "Really. You seem a good boy, always helping. I saw you playing with Rocket out in the meadow the other day." I had to ask. "Does anyone hit you?"

Pip sat hunched over, his arms on his knees. "Sometimes."

"It's not right for a man to hit a little boy."

"My Daddy never hit me, mum, never!" He sounded shocked. "Daddy's good to me." He paused. "But ... Mommy doesn't like me." His little body crumpled, and he began sobbing. "Mommy hates meeeee."

I pulled him to me and held him as he cried. I almost asked why his Ma should hate him, but he probably didn't know any more than I did.

In the Pot, for an adult to hurt a child in any way warranted death. How was this going on in my own home?

After a time, he wiped his face with his sleeve, pulling away to sit hunched over again.

"Pip, when people are very sad, sometimes they don't act right. Sometimes they say and do things to hurt people, even people like you who didn't do anything wrong. It's not right for them to do these things, but it's not because you're bad. It's because ... because they're so sad."

Pip nodded, and something in the set of his shoulders told me he never considered such things before.

"Would you like to sleep in the men's quarters?"

"Go away from my Daddy?" He paused. "I don't know."

"Well, I'll ask if that might be possible. But you don't have to go if you decide you don't want to." I patted his shoulder. "The beds there are better than the stair."

A smile came to his voice. "Thank you, mum."

"I'm going to go walk now. But I want to walk by myself. Will you promise not to tell?"

"I will."

"Thank you, Pip. Sleep well."

I tiptoed down the stair, peering out of the door. No one stood there, so I slipped out, closing the door behind me.

I walked among the horses, listening to their soft sounds as crickets chirped around us. The stars were bright, and I leaned on a post. A horse came over to sniff my hair, then retreated.

Pip was just a boy. What could have possibly gone on between them to make Amelia beat him?

Amelia never told me how she and Peter got here or why they stayed, even after Roy tortured her last month. She probably felt afraid to share her troubles with me.

Amelia took great pride in her position as my lady's maid. But something in the way she spoke of it suggested she might feel as little choice in the matter as I once thought I had.

Some small animal rustled in the straw beside me as I passed.

That afternoon in Jack Diamond's factory basement showed me I did have a choice. David and I could have died that day, or still be held by Frank Pagliacci and Jack Diamond, undergoing some horrific torture. I chose to fight back.

But how could I fight Roy Spadros? It seemed impossible.

I leaned against a post, watching the trees sway in the distance. Could Joe really get us out of Bridges?

I didn't want to even consider it until Joe was well. To have my hopes dashed again ... I didn't know if I could take it.

To know he might still love me was enough for now.

I closed my eyes, remembering Joe's strong fingers in mine. I'd almost forgotten who I was, but Joe's words and Kitty's innocent questions reminded me.

Darkness ... candlelight ... ancient voices chanting ... Ma's arms round me as I lay curled upon her lap. I felt warm, safe.

"We are the Dealers' daughters, ever grateful for their sacrifice, bound to keep faith until the land is restored. May we prove worthy of our mothers' courage, showing the Dealer's love to all who enter."

The memory seemed a thousand years ago.

One of Tony's men patrolled the street, far off to the right. His cigarette's light gave his face an orange glow. The wind blew chill.

Shivering, I returned to the stair. Pip was gone, so I crept up the stair, through the sheet-covered shapes in the storeroom, and into the hall. Blitz Spadros, our night footman, held a candle as he walked the hallway, and he smiled and nodded when he saw me.

Tony lay in my bed, asleep. His roses stood in a vase on my dresser, their thick perfume filling the air. After a few minutes' struggle to get out of my finery and jewels, I lay beside him, placing my hand so our fingers barely touched.

My husband was an ordinary-looking man, but I loved to watch him sleep. His guard vanished; his face took on a peace which no one else ever saw.

I kept revisiting the scene on the veranda ... last month in his study. The way Tony's voice changed when he spoke of Gardena, the way he looked at her, the way he lay his heart open to her ....

Tony loved Gardena.

Tony was in love with Gardena.

In the Pot we had no such thing as marriage. Until recently, my feelings for Tony had been what I might offer a brother, or a friend, such as Jonathan. I grew up in a brothel; a person might have many relationships in the Pot, even at the same time, without causing offense. But I could see how this might upset a quadrant-man such as Tony, who had been raised in a different way.

But for them to argue so as to come to blows made no sense. And then for him to offer such a bold lie, casting the entire blame on her? Something deep ran between them, something old and powerful which turned love to hate, at least on her part.

You are a coward.

Perhaps this deep secret was the reason Jon and Gardena's father Julius Diamond hated Tony so.

Tony lied to me, cast blame on others, provoked Gardena to violence. None of this was like him. Something happened. No, something horrible was happening to him, something he felt too terrible to tell me. Had the fear of his father's wrath for my inviting Jonathan and Gardena pushed him too far?

Tony lay facing me, his cheek pink, his side bruised brown and yellow from the beating he took during the ambush six weeks ago, his black hair tousled. I felt deep compassion for him. I couldn't think of a way to let him know he had my support no matter what calamity had befallen him.

I put my hand over Tony's. He mumbled, "no ... no," his face in deep distress.

Tears wet my pillow. I knew all about nightmares.