Both men bowed in farewell to Polly, who curtsied politely, then stood watching them stroll in the direction of the Strand, talking companionably. Nick, she knew, would be making sure that Buckingham realized he had a complacent lover on his hands, one who would be quite indifferent to whatever sidelines his mistress might contemplate. The game was begun.

Polly turned into the house, wondering what Nick had meant by a commission he had had to execute. In the parlor, she found the answer to the puzzle. A familiar figure from the days of Lady Margaret's rule was tending the fire.

"Sue!" Polly exclaimed. "Whatever d'ye do here?"

Susan turned, a shy smile on the plain, good-tempered countenance. She looked hesitantly at Polly, who was dressed in working attire, a simple print gown over a plain kirtle. There was nothing in the figure to alarm, and Sue beamed. " 'Is lordship brought me. 'Tis wonderful, Polly. I'm to live 'ere with you." Prancing delightedly across the room, she embraced Polly with her usual warmth.

Polly returned the hug with equal enthusiasm, but then drew back, surveying the other girl in utter bemusement. "I do not understand, Susan. What do you mean that his lordship says you are to live here with me?"

"I'm to look after ye," Susan explained, her smile broadening. '"Is lordship says ye've need of someone to keep yer wardrobe in order and 'elp with yer dressin' and

things…" Her voice faded as she saw the look on Polly's face. "D'ye not want me?" she said, a stricken look in the brown eyes. "Oh, pray don't say so! I'm to 'ave me own chamber in the attic-all to meself, Polly, just imagine! And jest to 'elp the goodwife when she needs, and go with you to the theatre and 'elp ye there." Her eyes were very round. "Is it true? Y'are a famous actor now?"

"I do not know about famous," Polly demurred. "But I am an actor." A rueful smile touched the corner of her mouth as she remembered the conversation between Bridget, the cook, and Susan in Lady Margaret's kitchen, after Big Rob's visit. "Do you truly wish to live with a brazen hussy of Covent Garden breeding, Sue? And his lordship's whore into the bargain?"

That was how Susan would see it, Polly knew. Once a girl of their class lost her maidenhead without benefit of clergy, she was branded by her own kind as whore regardless of the circumstances. However, the words were no sooner between her lips than she looked guiltily over her shoulder at the door, as if afraid to see an irate Lord Kincaid as audience to the forbidden description.

"Gawd!" murmured Susan. " 'Is lordship don't behave as if you'm a whore, Polly. Talked to me about you as if y'are a proper lady, 'e did."

"Aye. Well, his lordship is a proper gentleman," said Polly a little tartly. "And he will not understand that when one has been a servant, it is very uncomfortable to have someone to wait upon one."

Susan's face fell to her boots. "I'd not make ye uncomfortable, Polly. Don't tell 'im ye don't want me, please. You don't know what it's been like since ye left. Lady Margaret's been in a pucker, summat awful! What with 'is lordship 'ardly ever in the 'ouse, and 'er knowing it's something to do with you."

Polly had little difficulty imagining the situation. It was not one to which she would condemn her worst enemy, and Susan had stood her friend through her own trying times in that household.

"Tell me what has been happening since I left," she invited, moving to the fire that, despite the sunshine, was still necessary to keep at bay the March wind.

Sue seized on the invitation with gusto, chattering cheerfully, filling the room with her merry presence, making Polly laugh with her gossipy prattle.

Polly had no woman she could call friend. There were men like Killigrew and De Winter whom she thought of as particular friends, in whom she reposed absolute confidence. In Nick she had thought she had everything one could want in the way of friendship, companionship, love-for as long as she had his undivided attention, of course. That rider had wormed its way unbidden to undermine her complacent satisfaction on more than one occasion. Nick would have to take a wife at some point. However, on this occasion she squashed the unpalatable thought as resolutely as always, and returned her attention to Sue.

Until this moment, she had not had a moment's yearning for the easy companionship of one of her own age and sex. Now, as she slipped without thought into a delicious discussion of Bridget's courting by a local ostler, she realized how much she had missed this. And she realized with slow appreciation exactly what Nick had given her. No maidservant, but a companion who would benefit from the situation every bit as much as Polly.

She stretched her fingers to the fire and smiled. "I am famished, Sue. Let us dine."

Susan paused. "I cannot dine with you. I'm to take me dinner in the kitchen, with the goodwife and 'er folk."

"Nonsense," declared Polly, reaching up for the bell rope. "When my lord is here, then I daresay that will be best. But when he is not, I am damned if I'll dine alone when I can dine with you."

Susan giggled nervously, clearly shocked by this forthright speech, but not unwilling to hear the sentiment thus expressed. However, she retained sufficient presence of mind to forestall Polly with the bell rope, saying that she would go belowstairs herself to fetch up the fricassee of rabbit and

chicken that the goodwife had prepared for her lodger's delectation.

Nicholas heard their laughter drifting down the stairs when he returned to the house some three hours later. He paused outside the parlor door, feeling strangely as if he should knock to alert them of the arrival of an intruder. Then, with a little shake of his head, he opened the door as noisily as he could.

Both girls were sitting on the floor before the fire, glasses of wine in hand, the remnants of dinner still laid upon the table. Polly turned as the door opened, her cheeks flushed with wine and the fire's glow. "I swear you are as full of surprises as a bran tub, my lord," she declared in mock reproach, rising to her feet. "Although the last time I put my hand in a bran tub, at the Martinmas Fair last year, I pulled out the most meager surprise-a tin whistle, as I recall. And I had had such hopes that my farthing would bring me something wonderful!" She laughed, her pleasure glowing in her eyes as she came across to him.

"It is the disposition of bran tubs," said Kincaid, slipping his arms around her waist. "There is always the hope that blind fingers digging into the bran will produce the grand prize, worth far more than one's farthing. But, of course, 'twould hardly be a commercial proposition for the fairman if that were the case." He chuckled. "It is part of human nature, this triumph of hope over experience."

"I seem to have found myself a bran tub where the prizes far exceed the outlay," she said softly, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. "But I should tell you, sir, that I think you very devious in achieving your own object."

"My object being your compliance in matters where you show an unfortunate intractability," he returned, kissing the corner of her mouth. "I see that I have achieved that in this instance." He looked over her head to where an embarrassed Susan stood, unsure where to put herself, or to direct her eyes in the face of this display of affection.

"Susan, are matters arranged to your satisfaction?" he asked affably, in an attempt to put the girl at her ease. Unfor-

tunately, such condescension merely served to render her speechless with discomfort.

"Oh, of course, they are!" Polly exclaimed impatiently. "And we have been having the most comfortable time until you appeared."

"My apologies, madame." He bowed low. "I will remove myself forthwith."

"Idiot!" Laughter sparked in her eyes. "That is not at all what I meant, as well you know."