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E zra trained hard on Tuesday, but instead of going right home to Hackney, he passed by Silas’s office at the Inns of Court and waylaid him as he was leaving work. They bought sandwiches on the street and quickly ended up in Silas’s bed, beneath his canopy of colorful scarves.

Ezra liked being with Silas for many reasons. Sex was high among them, but he was also relieved to be with someone where he did not have to put up a front. He could be exactly who he was. And aside from the incident with Israel Kupersmit of the male brothel, he had been successful at keeping their relationship a secret from Rebecca and from the world.

He realized soon after marrying Rebecca that she had her own ways of doing things, and she didn’t like to be challenged. For the most part, he didn’t care. Let her run the house her way and serve the foods she liked. She insisted that he leave his boxing gear outside where the maid cleaned his shorts and singlets and other clothing items.

He stored the rest of his gear in a shed in the back garden, and he was strictly forbidden from exercising or practicing in the house, even though there was a huge salon he could use.

He was relaxing beside Silas that evening when Silas turned to him and asked, “Do you have sex with your wife?”

Ezra turned to him. “Is that a question you ask all your lovers?”

Silas said, “For the most part, I do not know if a man is married or not when I go with him. And since I have not bedded anyone else since I met you in September, I have no one else to ask that question.”

“My wife is a difficult woman,” Ezra said. “On our wedding night, after the festivities ended and we were alone in a hotel room in Paris, she announced that she had no interest in bearing children, and as far as she was concerned, that was the only reason for intercourse between men and women.”

“Do you think she would prefer the company of a woman to that of a man?”

Ezra shrugged. “I don’t know. I was surprised that night, certainly. Though the large part of my sexual education was with men by that point, my developing physique was admired by various women. Most of them were older and more experienced than I was, so I learned my way around a woman’s body. I thought that sex with my wife was a requirement.”

“She obviously disagreed.”

Ezra nodded. “We lived in a small apartment in the Jewish quarter of Paris, close to both our sets of parents. They all began to wonder when they would be grandparents. Even neighbors would approach us with comments or bawdy jokes.”

“That must have been awkward.”

“It was. So Rebecca and I hatched the plan to move to London and away from everyone who knew us. I had some boxing contacts who could get me fights, and we had the marriage portion Rebecca’s father had settled on us.”

Silas ran his index finger down Ezra’s hairy chest. “I am very glad you made that decision,” he said.

“Our plan was to divorce once we were established here. At first I was very unhappy. My only contacts in London at the time were boxers and promoters, so I had no one to call a friend. Rebecca was determined to make her name, and she did that at first through the Bevis Marks synagogue in Aldgate. She insisted that we attend services every Saturday morning, even if I had been boxing the night before.”

He sighed. “Over time I gained notoriety for my boxing prowess, and Rebecca became a curiosity on the social circuit, with her beautiful clothes and Parisian manners. She is now loath to divorce me and lose that status.”

Silas reached out and took his hand.

“Fortunately, Rebecca quickly became involved in various charitable activities, and we were able to reduce our synagogue attendance considerably. But I grow more and more disenchanted with my life as time goes on. If I am to live with a roommate, I wish it to be a more convivial one.”

“One who would share your bed with pleasure?” Silas asked.

“That would be an advantage.”

Silas propped himself on one arm. “And would that roommate be a man or a woman?”

“Public life would be easier if I were to share it with a woman,” Ezra said. “But I fear that private life would be just as disappointing as it is with Rebecca.”

“How does one interview for this position?”

Ezra shrugged. “For now, the position is not open. Divorce is very difficult in England, and nearly impossible in France. And there is the complication of religion.”

“Why?”

“Rebecca and I were married by a rabbi, and only a council of rabbis, called a Bet Din, can dissolve our marriage before God. I am afraid that if I bring such an action against Rebecca, she will rebel against me, and reveal our secrets in such a way that would ruin me.”

Ezra sighed. “I have broached the subject with Rebecca. I cannot see how she can be happy in our arrangement, but she is, and she has refused any efforts to change things between us.”

Silas leaned back against his pillow. “My life is changing,” he said. “I hope for the better, but who knows?”

“How so?” Ezra asked.

“I have spoken to you of the senior clerk in my office, Cyril Alderton. He left this earth a few days ago, and I have been promoted to his position.”

“That is excellent!” Ezra said. “I am sure you will succeed.”

“I am not,” Silas said. “I have a great deal to learn, which I must master very quickly.”

Eventually, after another round of lovemaking, Ezra left Silas’s and returned to Hackney, where he was surprised to encounter Rebecca at home. Usually she spent her evenings at charitable events or dining with other women from the synagogue.

“ Bonsoir ,” he said, as he walked into the parlor. She was sitting at a small desk going through her correspondence.

She answered him in French. “Shouldn’t you be practicing somewhere?”

“I have already completed my workout for today,” he answered, in the same language. It was easier to speak to her that way, because it allowed him to put her in a compartment in his brain that related to the man he was, back in France.

“I am having a group of people for dinner in an hour,” she said. “You won’t be here, will you?”

“Not if I am not welcome.”

She shrugged. “It is your house, too. Even though my father bought it for us.”

“No, your father gave you a wedding portion,” he said, though it was an old argument. “We used that money to buy the house. Together. And it is in my name. It is as much my property as you are, as my wife.”

She shook her head. “I learned of a recent law the other day.” In accented English, she said, “The Married Women's Property Act 1870.” Then she reverted to French. “It is an act of the British Parliament that allows married women to be the legal owners of the money they earn and to inherit property.”

He had not heard of such a law, and made note to ask Silas about it. “I imagine you would have to petition to have the ownership changed from my name to yours. And I would contest that.”

“It would not be much of a contest. Your fists against my brains.”

“Why don’t you simply go back to Paris?” he asked. “Your father would support you. Your friends are there.”

“I have made new friends here,” she said. “At the synagogue, and in society. If you would go back I could have an independent life here.”

“I cannot get the kind of boxing matches in France that I can here. Nor can I make as much money there.”

“Then we are stuck,” she said. She turned back to her desk. “If you intend to stay for dinner, please clean yourself up and put on your blue suit. You look most handsome in it.”

Ezra had nowhere else to go, and refused to cower in his bedroom like an idiot child while his wife entertained at dinner. So he did as she asked, washing away the sweat of his workout and the smell of Silas. Then he donned the suit she requested.

He surveyed himself in the oval cheval mirror. She was right; the suit did make him look handsome. Too bad Silas wasn’t here to see him.

He went downstairs to help Rebecca greet the dinner guests. They did not have a regular cook, instead a woman Rebecca brought in to prepare special meals, who came with staff to help her serve and clear.

She had invited three couples from the synagogue, and they arrived in sequence. Ezra had met all of them at one time or another, though several of the women appeared surprised to see him there. He wondered how many of these events Rebecca had sponsored without notifying or inviting him.

He fell into conversation over gin cocktails with an older Frenchman who had lived in London for many years. “You have no children, I see,” Monsieur Cassin said.

“Rebecca and I have not been so blessed.”

Cassin leaned close. “My wife and I suffer from the same affliction. No matter how we tried when we were younger, she could not conceive. The doctors tried various tests, but they are virtually ignorant of anything that happens before the baby begins to push his head out.”

Ezra nodded. He did not want to lie to the man, nor did he want to explain why they had no offspring.

“It was very traumatic for my wife,” Cassin continued. “It is why we relocated to London, away from the prying eyes of family and friends.”

“Your story resembles that of Rebecca and myself,” Ezra said.

“You must not blame yourself, or your wife,” Cassin said. “Children are given to us at the Lord’s discretion. My wife was able to train as a teacher and thus satisfy some of her maternal urges. And she has taught, and helped, so many children, many more than if we might have been blessed with our own.”

“Rebecca has thrown herself into her charitable work,” Ezra said. “She is moved by the plight of so many women and children in need. You have only to hear her speak of her soup kitchen for the Jewish poor to see that.”

“Yes, she is much admired in the community,” Cassin said. “As are you, for your physical prowess.”

“Gifts from the Lord,” Ezra said.

Over dinner, Ezra made a point of complimenting Rebecca whenever possible, on her management of the household, her personal charm, and her devotion to causes. “She is a woman of strong character,” he said. “As Proverbs says, ‘A woman of valor, who can find? For her price is far above rubies.’ I have found my woman of valor in Rebecca.”

She blushed. After the guests had departed, and the cook and her staff had cleared everything away, she caught Ezra’s arm before he went upstairs. “You were very kind to me this evening,” she said.

“I do not hate you, or seek to diminish you in any way,” he said. “We entered into a marriage contract that while unusual seems to suit us both. As I prosper, so do you, and vice versa.”

“It is good to know that you are behind me,” she said. “In good times and bad, one hopes.”