"Tom, have the carriage brought around," Nicholas instructed the footboy. "Susan, find a cloak or some such to cover that smock; and some pattens for her feet." He also left the kitchen, well aware that his intervention had done Polly no good with Margaret, but confusingly unsure what else he

could have done. It should have been simple enough to leave women's work to the women, but when Polly had looked at him in that manner, he had become as putty. Now, instead of spending his morning at Whitehall in the leisured pursuits of a courtier, he was going to drive around the city with two maidservants, buying stuff gowns and petticoats, and encouraging one recalcitrant, lice-infested wench into the hothouse!

"Lord love us!" Susan ejaculated, once the kitchen was returned to the sole use of its accustomed occupants. She regarded Polly with awed interest. "What you done for 'is lordship, then? 'E never goes against her ladyship, never." She nudged Polly with a salacious grin. "Given 'im a bit o' the other, 'ave ya? Aren't ye the lucky one, takin' 'is fancy like that!"

Polly frowned, thinking of last night and his refusal of the offer of her body. "I don't think I have taken his fancy," she replied honestly, not a whit put out by the girl's manner or a conclusion that she could see would be the only reasonable one. She was perfectly at home in the kitchen; which, in all its essentials, except for the extraordinary degree of cleanliness, resembled her usual haunts, and perfectly at ease with Lord Kincaid's servants for much the same reasons. "I did save his life, though," she confided, her frown clearing at this happy truth. Just in time, she stopped herself from continuing blithely that in exchange he had promised to help her with her life's ambition. It would take a much less astute mind than Polly's to have missed the significance of Lady Margaret's dress and bearing and pronouncements on the devil's vanities. She was in the house of a Puritan.

She had scrambled into adulthood in a land ruled by the Lord Protector, where all forms of entertainment and gaiety were forbidden as the devil's work. Color and adornment in dress were held sinful vanities, punishable by stocks and pillory. Only in the last five years, since Charles II had been brought triumphantly from exile, had the Puritan rule lost its sway. Indeed, the pendulum had swung to the opposite extreme, and there was little extravagance in dress or behavior

that was now considered impermissible. It was a matter of some interest, she reflected, that his lordship, whose dress and bearing bore ample witness to his allegiance to the courtly norms, should share houseroom with such a stickler for the sober and divine. But then, kin had claims upon kin, and not since the reign of Henry VIII had there been anything unusual in two members of the same family holding opposing views on the manner in which the worship of God should be conducted. The present rule of the land was much more tolerant of differences in religious conviction and lifestyle than the Lord Protector's.

Polly dismissed the matter as being of little importance and turned her attention to the immediate issue-that of a visit to the hothouse. The gentleman-she still could not think of him in any other way-had told her last night that she would be required to do certain things that she would not wish to do, but that it was all part of some plan that would enable her to achieve her object. If immersing herself in hot water would draw her closer to her goal, then she supposed she would have to submit. At least she would do so in friendly company.

' 'Ow d'ye save his life, then?" asked Susan, rummaging in a cupboard. " 'Ere, these'll do you." She handed her a pair of wooden pattens. "Ye'd best borrow Bridget's cloak, for I'll have need of mine."

"Carriage is 'ere!" Tom appeared breathless in the door. " 'Is lordship's coolin' 'is heels abovestairs, and bids ye both come straightway."

Polly smiled her thanks as she took the cloak of coarse homespun handed her by the cook. The smile, did she but know it, did much to reconcile Bridget to the loan of such a precious garment.

"We must make haste." Susan pranced in the doorway, in her anxiety and excitement quite forgetting that she had not received an answer to her question.

Nicholas, while he was resigned to the task ahead, was also regretting his impulse until Polly appeared, wrapped in the ample folds of the cook's cloak. She turned the full sun of

that glorious countenance upon him and smiled-a smile that carried a hint of shyness behind its gratitude. He ceased to regret the impulse, accepting that it had been as inevitable as the sunrise. Clean, groomed, not at a disadvantage, who would she not entrance? He would welcome De "Winter's second opinion, and such an opinion would only be hastened by the speedy performance of the business in hand.

"Come." He gestured to the open front door, where the carriage waited, set his plumed hat upon his head, and followed the pair. "Susan, you may ride upon the box."

Susan climbed up to sit beside the coachman, very much wishing that she could have exchanged a glance with Polly. The sedate Kincaid household had achieved a most lively addition, one who was like to create a fair number of sparks if she continued to bask in the favor of my lord and the disfavor of my lady.

"The Royal Exchange," Kincaid instructed the coachman, before climbing into the carriage behind Polly, who took her seat, patting the leather squabs with an appreciative hand. This carriage was a far cry from the hackney of the previous evening.

"It is a most elegant coach, sir," she said politely. Her gaze ran approvingly over his attire as he sat opposite her, adroitly swinging his sword to one side so that it would not catch between his legs. "And you are a most proper gentleman, my lord."

Nicholas's lips twitched, but he accepted the compliment with a gracious bow of his head.

"You were not quite so magnificent last night," Polly continued, as if apologizing for not having complimented her companion earlier.

"One dresses rather differently when one is intending to visit the court from when one is frequenting a wharfside tavern," he explained solemnly.

"I imagine so," agreed Polly, frowning. "But I do not understand why you would wish to frequent a wharfside tavern when you can go to court or… or even to the playhouse."

"Have you ever been to the play?" Nicholas asked curiously, hoping to take her mind off her question.

Her eyes glowed as she shook her head. "Not to a real playhouse, no; but Twelfth Night four years ago, a troupe of strolling players came to the Dog tavern and put on an entertainment to pay for their cakes and ale. It was wonderful!" The glow deepened as she seemed to be looking into another world. "The costumes and the dancing. They let me take part a little and said I had some talent." She shot him an almost defiant look as if daring him to contradict her. "They would have taken me with them, only Josh overheard me asking; so I got his belt instead." She shrugged, cheerfully insouciant. "But I am going to be a good actor."

"That would not surprise me in the least," he said mildly, and Polly looked instantly gratified. "I have witnessed a fair number of your performances since last evening."

There was something in his tone that took a little of the gilt from the statement, but the carriage at this point came to a halt, and Polly, pulling aside the leather curtain, gazed upon the riotous bustle of the Royal Exchange, where stall keepers jostled for custom, calling out their wares to prospective shoppers, maids and mistresses, gentlemen and loungers, who picked over the merchandise and haggled over the prices.

Polly had her hand on the door latch, ready to leap to the ground, when his lordship spoke with soft determination behind her. "Nay, you must stay in the carriage. You cannot possibly show yourself in public in such undress."