“Not since I am a friend of the family,” he answered her seriously. “I hope you have told them you are meeting me?”

“I must make sure you are always on friendly terms!” She avoided the question. “For I want you to take me to London, even perhaps to visit your friends at court.”

“The court is no place for a lady,” he corrected her. “Nobody attends court but for gambling and vice. I only go for essential meetings of business.”

“But I have business there,” she surprised him.

“You do?”

The black ribbons on her hat trembled at her determined nod. “I do,” she confirmed. “I am not quite a pauper. My first husband left me his antiquities, some beautiful sculptures from days long ago. I was told in Venice that the best prices are paid in London. Is that not true?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said gloomily. “Certainly, they seem to be mad for spending.”

“You do not collect art like the king? You have no taste for beautiful things yourself?”

“I suppose I like the new buildings, the classical taste…”

“Exactly so,” she agreed. “And this is why I have come here. I have a small collection of the finest pieces, Greek and Ancient Roman sculptures for sale. I will have them shipped here. Perhaps Alys will send a ship for my goods. My first husband was a great collector, a most artistic man. His steward has maintained his collection for me. I was hoping to use my mother-in-law’s warehouse as a saleroom for my goods. But I can see no one comes here—nobody would. So how am I going to meet the noblemen who love beautiful things unless you will introduce me?”

“Not at the court. It is no place for a lady,” he repeated.

“I shall take your word for it,” she assured him. “But perhaps you will direct me to the collectors, the gentlemen of taste and wealth, perhaps you will introduce me?”

“Really, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Ah!” she said. “Beginning is always the hardest. But look! Here we are—you and I—beginning.”

They walked in silence along the quiet quayside. “It is very different when there is no unloading,” she remarked. “Even worse.”

“It is still busy in the City,” he said. “Even on a Saturday evening, even on a Sunday. Upriver.”

“Yes,” she said. “I can see that is where the warehouse should be. I wish they had not settled for being so small. And so dirty, and so far away from everything of interest. Is your house in the City, Sir James?”

“Not in the business quarter.”

She admired the disdain in his voice.

“Avery House is more to the west, on the Strand. It was untouched by the fire, thanks be to God. That was all to the east of us. A terrible time. We escaped; but all our hangings and curtains were ruined by the smoke and had to be washed and some thrown away.”

Apparently, she was not much interested in his hangings and curtains; she gazed across the river to the other side where the fields and rows of little riverside buildings were giving way to grand quays and warehouses.

“Some beautiful brocades.” He remembered them when they were new, and the dead king was on his throne. “Chosen by my mother, some of them woven for her, to her own pattern. I remember her drawing them up, she had a wonderful eye…”

“Yes, yes,” she said. “Very sad.” Ahead of her, she could see the blunt outline of the White Tower and the high walls around it. “And so that is the famous Tower of London?”

“Yes,” he said. “Perhaps, one day, Mrs. Stoney will take you to see the animals.”

“I doubt it! Does she ever take a holiday?”

“I don’t know,” he said, thinking of the girl she had been, and her love of dancing and play, the summer when she had been queen of the harvest and had run faster than all the girls into the arms of the young man that she loved. “They were always a hardworking family.”

“Roberto also,” Livia said with a little sigh. “Many times I would beg him to stay home and rest. But he was always going out for poor sick people, or on his boat or walking on the marshes. A good wife should make a haven for her husband, don’t you think? A wife is honor-bound to make her husband happy.”

“I suppose so.”

“And you have a house in the north of England too?”

“A country house,” he said. “With land.”

“It is very cold there?” She was interested. “Do you think I would be able to bear it?”

“No colder than the north of Italy, I believe. We have snow in winter and the winds are very cold. But it is very beautiful, and very peaceful.”

“I love the peaceful countryside,” she assured him. “Far more than the town! But I think you did not prosper in your proposal? I think your house will have no mistress? La Suocera does not consent?”

“La Suocera?”

“The mother-in-law, Mrs. Reekie. She does not accept your very generous proposal?”

“No, she does not agree with me yet, but I think she will come to see that I have much to offer her, and the children.”

She gave a little laugh. “And so now you want both children? The girl Sarah and the boy Johnnie?”

His hurt showed on his face. “I don’t know what to want,” he admitted. “I should want her to come to me and bring her child with her.”

She could not conceal her avid curiosity. “But why do you say this? The boy is Alys’s son! You cannot want Alys? She is so cross with everyone!”

He withdrew from her eagerness. “It’s not for me to say.”

She paused in their walk and turned to him. “I am one of the family, their secrets are my secrets.”

He bowed his head. “But they are not my secrets to tell,” he said carefully. “Did Rob tell you nothing about them?”

She made a little pout. “He misled me. I thought it was a greater house and a noble family. He did not tell me that it was a little warehouse and two poor women scratching for a living and two children sent out to work.”

“One child is mine, I am sure of it,” he was driven to say.

She stopped in her path, grasped both his hands, and looked into his face, her dark eyes intent through her black lacy veil. “But you were not dishonorable, Milord. I am sure you would not be dishonorable.”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I was not. I was young, and foolish, and mistaken. I was very mistaken. Sinfully wrong. But now I want to put things right.”

“You made a baby with Alys?” she whispered. “You made a child on her?”

The shake of his head in denial was enough for her quick wits.

“Dio! With Mamma Reekie?”

His silence was as good as a confession. She recovered at once. “I shall help you,” she assured him. “And you shall help me.”

He took a breath. “It is not my secret to tell.”

“I shall help you,” she repeated. “And then you will help me.”

He was about to say that he had no help to offer her when she turned and pointed to the bridge. “Ah! That is a fine sight! Even bigger than the Rialto in Venice but just as busy.”