Venus

"Amazing beauty. You did not exaggerate, Richard," Sir Peter said. "We had hoped our unexpected visit would afford us a glimpse, I confess. Where does she come from, Nick?"

Nick puffed on his pipe and shook his head. "That is the one secret I shall keep, Peter. It lies between Polly and myself." Richard knew, of course, but the confidence was as safe with him as if he had never heard it. "D'ye think she will captivate Buckingham?" Nick asked.

"And anyone else she chooses," declared Major Conway, taking snuff. "My apologies for slipping like that earlier. I realize she mustn't have an inkling that we've an intention to do more than bewail the king's foolishness and the Cabal's manipulation."

"No harm was done," Nick said easily. "You recovered readily enough. But your visit was timely." In one sense, at least, he amended with a rueful i

"You will move her out of here?"

"As soon as I can find suitable lodgings, Richard."

"And you will make her your mistress?" The major spoke matter-of-factly. "Before bringing her to Killigrew's notice, presumably?"

"That is my intention," Nick responded in like fashion.

"To bind her securely with the chains of love," murmured

Richard, casting a shrewd look at him. "Those of gratitude seem well in place."

"They will be when I remove her from Margaret's supervision," Nick said with an indulgent chuckle. "She is not inclined to thank me for her present situation, for all that she relishes her instruction." He sipped his wine. "Do you have any suggestions about lodgings?"

"Not Covent Garden," pronounced Richard. "You want no taint of the harlot attached to her. To be under your protection is one thing, but to inhabit the Grand Seraglio will not do."

"Indeed, not," agreed Sir Peter. "But Drury Lane might serve. It has decent houses and respectable landlords for all its proximity to Covent Garden."

"Aye, and 'tis close to the theatre," put in the major. "She'll not be conspicuous there."

"And you may come and go as you please without drawing undue attention." Richard smiled. "There is so much hustle and bustle on the lane, the houses so well occupied by the busy and the popular. It is always difficult to remember whose house one saw a person enter." The smile faded. "That could be to all our advantages later, when we wish to glean unobtrusively what she has to offer for harvest."

Nicholas simply nodded. "I will look for a suitable lodging run by a fitting landlady on the morrow. D'ye care to bear me company on the business, Richard?"

"Gladly. Now, how about that rubber of whist?"

"You are early from bed, brother," Margaret greeted Kincaid the following morning as he crossed the hall, dressed for riding in buckskin breeches and high boots, a camelot cloak with gold buttons slung across his shoulders.

"I have some business to transact," Nick said easily. "Where is Polly this morning?"

Lady Margaret's lips thi

anything else, she did not understand what her brother-in-law was about. The wench did not share his bed-of that Margaret was convinced-but whenever he was in the house, the girl was at his side, and the voices and laughter coming from Kincaid's parlor corroded her soul like acid. She was convinced that he never so much as took the wench to task for the faults of which his sister-in-law kept him so religiously apprised.

"I trust she has not made another escape?" Nick queried with a dry smile when Margaret did not immediately answer his original question.

Margaret said frigidly, "As far as I am aware, brother, the girl is in the kitchen. The chapman is here."

"Make sure she is in the house when I return." Nick walked to the door. "I shall be dining with friends, but will be back by midafternoon." He contemplated telling his sister-in-law that she would soon be rid of the thorn in her side, then decided against it. He had no idea how soon he would find suitable lodgings for Polly, and there was no point stirring things up prematurely.

The scene in the kitchen at this point was one unlikely to please the lady of the house, there being for once little evidence of sober industry. Big Rob, the peddler, was paying his quarterly visit, and the contents of his pack-lace and pins and thread, combs and gaudy trinkets-were spread upon the table while the household crowded about like swarming bees, Polly as eager as the rest. The chapman's visits were always a high point in any household. Even the Dog tavern had been enlivened by them.

Big Rob was a mountain of a man, as his name implied. Bright eyes like raisins in a currant bun gleamed as he flirted with the chattering Susan, who bridled and blushed but showed no disinclination for the play, not even for the smacking kiss he gave her as he went on his way.

"Shame on you, Sue," Bridget scolded half-seriously. "You go on like that and ye'11 end with a swollen belly."

Susan giggled and her plump face pinkened. " 'Tis only a

bit o' fun. There's little enough of it around 'ere. I'll be careful, never ye fear. I'm no brazen hussy of Covent Garden breeding. No man's goin' to 'ave 'is way with me, less'n 'e can offer me a ring."

Bridget clucked her approval, and Polly buried her head in the pantry, reflecting that these two probably would not draw any distinction between an actor in search of a noble protector and the Covent Garden prostitutes so scathingly described by Sue. It was not a comfortable thought.

But then she thought of those moments in Lord Kincaid's parlor last evening, before his visitors had arrived. If she closed her eyes, she could feel again the press of his lips, gentle yet so very much more than friendly, upon hers. What had it meant? What did it mean when he looked at her in that certain way? When his eyes took on that deep glow that seemed to penetrate to her very essence? And what did it mean when she felt this strange, hot confusion when he touched her with those caressing strokes of his finger, or looked at her as if he was seeing something of which she was unaware. Then, at other times, he was just briskly instructive, short with her when she moaned and complained about having to stay in this house, demanding, though always patient, in the tasks he would have her master. The contradictions must mean something. He had promised to teach her what she would need to know to impress Master Killigrew and to take her place in her chosen world. He was certainly fulfilling that promise. Surely he must want something in exchange? Indeed, he had said at the begi

Lady Margaret sailed into the kitchen at this point, effectively dampening the general exuberance left by Big Rob's visit. An hour's idleness had been granted but must now be paid for.

Polly, sent after di