Sarah smiled in the darkness. “Then you should be grateful that I am proof against your charms. My last suitor came to a very bad end.”

“I’d be faint-hearted indeed if I allowed that to deter me,” he insisted. “Most men would only consider it a challenge to be overcome.”

“I hope you’re more sensible than most men, then,” she said.

“No one has ever accused me of that,” he replied with mock outrage, making her laugh. “And how about you, Sarah Brandt? Are you more sensible than most women?”

Her amusement faded. “I’m afraid I am. Too sensible to marry again, at least.”

Although she couldn’t see his expression in the darkness, she sensed the change in him. As the coach continued bouncing gently over the cobbled streets, they sat in silence for a few moments while they both remembered their lost mates. The three years that Tom Brandt had been gone seemed like only as many days. Her companion’s wife had been gone longer, but she was just as sorely missed.

“How do you bear the loneliness?” he asked finally.

“I don’t. I just try to fill my days so I’m too busy to think of it.”

This time his sigh was weary. “But we still have the nights, don’t we?”

Yes, they did still have the nights. The darkness that sometimes seemed endless when you had no one to hold you. Sarah wanted to reach out to him, to tell him she understood, but that would be a mistake. Lonely people could make terrible mistakes if they weren’t careful. She’d been careful for too long to risk it now.

“Richard,” she said, calling him by his given name in spite of their brief acquaintance, “you don’t need to be lonely. You must know you’re attractive, and you’re certainly eligible. You could have your pick of women in this city.”

“And what about you, Sarah?” he asked, taking the liberty of using her first name as well. “You could have your pick, too, starting with that policeman. What’s his name?”