Sophie walked over to Patrick and stood for an instant, gazing at the sky. It looked like shot silk now; the coppery color was laced with darker, jaundiced-looking stripes. The fluffy little clouds had thinned into sullen streaks, like a banker’s smile. And there was a wind starting. Strands of hair pulled loose from her velvet bonnet and whipped against her face.

Patrick’s face was alive with excitement. “See how livid the air has become, Sophie? The wind is blowing, and yet in between gusts the air is heavy and still.”

Sophie nodded. Now she was very glad that they had anchored the Lark.

There was a thud and a shout. The crewmen were ready to send a small boat over to the shore.

“Now’s the trick.” Patrick grinned at her. “We have to get you and your maid down a rope ladder. We couldn’t sail all the way in, as the bottom is too shallow near the dock.”

Sophie walked to the side of the Lark and peered over. It seemed a long way down, and the rope ladder was swaying in an alarming fashion. Moreover, the water had a gray tint that promised an icy bath to anyone who let go of the ladder.

“I shall carry you down.” Patrick was standing at her shoulder.

“Nonsense,” Sophie replied. “I shall climb down on my own. Simone!”

Simone edged over next to her mistress, clearly frightened out of her wits at the idea of scrambling down the ladder.

“If you climb down without screaming, fainting, falling off, or needing assistance, I will give you the ball dress with the fabric roses.”

Simone was silent for a heartbeat. “The one with a train?”

Sophie nodded.

Simone’s thin Gallic face lit with determination. Without a second’s hesitation she moved over to the side and allowed a sailor to place her at the top of the ladder. Then she sturdily climbed down.

Sophie watched until Simone reached the skiff and was helped to a seat. But just as Sophie was about to move over to the ladder, two warm arms encircled her from behind and a voice whispered, “Don’t you want a bribe?”

Sophie giggled. “Are you offering me one of your embroidered waistcoats?”

A deep chuckle tickled her ear. “The only one I own was embroidered by Aunt Henrietta with cornflowers and bluebells. It’s a dreadfully garish piece, and besides it’s too big for you.”

“Oh dear,” Sophie said sadly. “I’m afraid you’re right. I simply haven’t got the gumption to go down that ladder … especially now that I realize how pitiful your attempt at bribery is.”

“Vixen.”

Teeth nipped her ear, and she leaned back against Patrick’s muscled chest. Her whole body was tingling warmly, despite the fact that a wintery sea spray had begun to blow across the deck.