"And you can rely upon her cooperation?"

"Her only desire is to tread the boards," Nicholas said. "And I am convinced she has no small talent. Indeed, I am often hard-pressed to tell the performance from the genuine emotion."

"But with such a creature-a Newgate brat who has grown from the slums-you will not be able to trust in her loyalty. It will be given to the highest bidder. For that reason, you may be able to encourage her into Buckingham's bed-there are few higher-but how can you be sure she will remain sufficiently attached to you to enable you to milk her of any information? It will have to be done very casually

if she is not to suspect. It seems to me, my friend, that that predicates a certain intimacy." His eyebrows lifted. "Should she begin to suspect the truth, she may well see financial advantage in playing turncoat. Then we will both lose our heads."

Nicholas was silent for a minute. He did not resent this hard catechism. Richard spoke only the truth, and the stakes would be of the highest. Finally he said, "If I may bind her to me…"

"She will remain loyal," De Winter finished on a low whistle. "Will you bind her with the chains of gratitude or of love, my friend?"

Nicholas shrugged. "Of the first, certainly. Of the second…" He smiled. "We will wait and see. I find I have a powerful desire for her, Richard, one I would consummate; but I must kindle her own first. She is still an innocent in matters of passion, in spite of her background." He paused thoughtfully, then said, "Maybe because of it. Passion and desire are not necessarily synonymous with lust, and she is certainly familiar with the latter in its ugliest manifestations. But we will leave that in abeyance. While she remains beneath my roof, she remains virgin. She must be taught certain things, and in the teaching I will forge some chains."

Richard De Winter nodded, and kept silent. He found himself with a great desire to make the acquaintance of Mistress Polly Wyat.

Lady Margaret, who had been waiting with barely suppressed impatience for her

brother-in-law's return, found herself balked of the opportunity to vent her anger by the presence of his companion. She was obliged to smile and curtsy as she greeted Lord De Winter, pressed a glass of sack upon him, and sent word to the kitchen to lay another place at the dinner table.

"I understand from John Coachman, brother, that you gave Susan and Polly leave to visit the Exchange," she said, finally unable to contain herself, although she was careful to couch the statement in soft tones, accompanied by a smile. It was a smile that did not reach her eyes, but then, Lady Margaret's smiles rarely did. "They have not yet returned, and the kitchen is hard-pressed to manage without them." She plied her needle on her tambour frame with an air of great consideration, continuing casually, "I cannot help feeling, brother, that the granting of holidays should be in the purview of the mistress of the house. A man cannot expect to know when a servant can ill be spared."

"Possibly not," agreed Nick equably. "Pray accept my apologies if my indulgence has caused you trouble. However, the kitchen cannot be missing Polly's services too greatly, since they have not yet had the benefit of them. But they

should both be at work shortly. I gave order that they return by dinnertime." He smiled blandly. "May I fill your glass, Richard?"

"My thanks." De Winter schooled his expression with admirable effort and offered the Lady Margaret a comment on the weather. Topics of conversation considered suitable by the Puritan were hard to come by since court gossip, politics, and fashion were all tarred with the devil's brush. Religion, sacred music, and the weather were acceptable, but tended to be unabsorbing subjects.

A slight tap on the door relieved the awkward silence. Lady Margaret bade the knocker enter, and Polly, demure in apron and cap, appeared. "Dinner is served, my lady."

Richard De Winter struggled to capture his breath. Never had he beheld such a beauty. Aware of his gaze, Polly returned the look with a frank appraisal of her own, then she smiled and curtsied prettily, looking up at him in a way that one could only call provocative, through the luxuriant, curling forest of her eyelashes.

It was Lady Margaret's turn to gasp at such an immodest display. She was still trying to recover from the effects of her instant, automatic assessment of Polly's clothing. Her brother must have spent a small fortune on garments that no lady would object to having on her back. The effect of such a creature, dressed in such a fashion, on the discipline and smooth running of her household could only be catastrophic. And she had been forbidden to mend the girl's manners. She glared her outrage at her brother, who seemed not to notice anything untoward in the wench's deportment.

In fact, Nick was satisfied by De Winter's reaction and amused by Polly's response. She had learned the art of responding to such a reaction in the taproom of the Dog tavern, as he well knew, but there was nothing lewd or vulgar about her present demeanor-coquettish, certainly, but there was no harm in that. Indeed, it was an essential if she was to succeed in the life she had chosen.

Ignoring his sister's glare, he said, "After dinner, Polly, I

would like you to come to my parlor. You shall have your first lesson."

Polly's eyes glowed with pleasure, and there was none of the coquette about her this time as she curtsied again. "Thank you, my lord."

"What lesson?" demanded Margaret. "The girl cannot be spared from her duties again today." She rounded on Polly, who still stood smiling in the doorway. "Have you nothing better to do, girl, than stand idling here?"

Polly, catching Nicholas's warning glance, bit back the retort springing so easily to her lips. She knew she had a powerful enemy in the Lady Margaret, but she also knew that Lord Kincaid was an even more powerful friend. He would protect her from injustice, she was certain, having put her in this position in the first place. Although why he should have done that still escaped her. She did not think that, in general, patrons, or even protectors, kept their protegees as kitchen maids. They set them up in lodgings of their own, where they could learn things like reading and writing and cleanliness without interference.

She beat a rapid retreat from the drawing room. Of course, it was true that her adopted patron/protector had so far required from her none of the expected services of the protegee. He behaved simply as if he was accepting an obligation which he had the right to discharge as he saw fit. If he would make her his mistress, then surely matters would be conducted differently? Perhaps he required more encouragement. Mayhap, now that she was clean, he would find her more appealing.

"What lesson?" repeated Margaret, sweeping past her brother into the dining room. "I do think, Lord De Winter, that my brother is suffering some disorder of the mind. He finds an orphaned slut upon the streets, and proceeds to treat her as if she were his own kin." A little unconvincing laugh was intended to make a joke of the public criticism, but it failed lamentably.

"I have promised to teach the girl her letters," Nick said, in the same equable tone he had employed throughout. "She

has a quick mind, and I see no reason why she should not attempt to better herself if she is able."

"But what will the rest of the household think if such decided preference is accorded one of their number? It is not decent to encourage the lower orders to step beyond their station." Margaret passed a dish of stewed carp to her guest, her mouth small and pursed. "She is a brass-faced wench, overbold and with the deportment of a wanton. She stands in need of a round curbing, which it is to be hoped you will supply, since it appears that I may not."