They talked for a few minutes about nothing of importance, careful not to skirt too close to the subject of what that Tams might be guilty of again. But they discovered they had a couple of acquaintances in common, and Regan was almost animated as she imparted a piece of juicy gossip.

“I really didn’t know he was capable,” she said, sitting forward, her knees tight together.

“Nor I.” Inara smiled. “Bella must be furious.”

“Well, from what I can ascertain, they haven’t slept in the same bed since that night.”

“Hell hath no fury …”

“Precisely.”

They laughed gently, and Inara felt it safe to broach another delicate subject.

“Regan, your husband … he’s sick, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Mrs Tam looked down into her half-empty cup, suddenly no longer thirsty. “Yes, he is.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“So am I.” Regan sighed heavily. “Gabriel and I have lived separate lives for some years, and I only came back when I heard he was ill. From a third party, no less. He would never have told me.”

“Too proud?”

“Too stupid.” She smiled a little. “No. Pride it was. But he needed someone to look after him, make sure he did what the doctors said. After all, a wife’s place is at her husband’s side.”

Despite her words, Inara got the impression that wasn't the only reason Regan had returned to her husband. “In sickness and in health,” she murmured, echoing one version of the marriage vows she had yet to take.

“Well, we’ve gone through the ‘for richer, for poorer’ part.” Regan shook her head. “Gabriel is a self-made man, and he saw his mission in life, at least at first, as acquiring wealth. Perhaps that’s …” She paused, biting back on what she wanted to say, instead finishing with, “But we married for love.”

“And now he’s sick.”

“Yes.”

“It’s serious?”

“Very.” Regan saw the younger woman glance towards the door, and understood. “It’s nothing contagious. It’s genetic.”

“Is that why you decided to go with donors for your children? So as not to pass it on?”

“I couldn’t have