Since he hadn’t noticed her entrance, she took the opportunity to study him. He was every inch the London gentleman, well dressed, reserved, difficult to read. She tried to visualize him with tonsured blond hair, wearing the loose brown robe of a Franciscan. She had trouble imagining that, yet years of living a religious life must explain the deep calm she sensed in him. Like her, he was dishonored and he felt that stain, but he accepted that this was his life now. She must emulate him.

“Good evening, Lucas,” she said.

He turned and she saw that her peaceful friar was holding a long, wicked-looking dirk similar to those in the wheel of weapons mounted on the wall behind him. “Making comparisons?” she asked with amusement. “To find if your dirk is longer?”

He laughed. “My cousin Suzanne said much the same thing. Men aren’t always obsessed with size, you know. I was studying the differences. The Highland dirks are more varied in style, as one would expect, and the hilts tend to be flatter.”

He offered his weapon hilt first. “This is a Royal Navy dirk, which is a badge of office for naval officers. It’s also a very effective weapon for close fighting, such as when you board an enemy ship or they board you.”

The dirk was sleek and deadly, as long as her forearm, with a finely honed blade and an ivory hilt. “Is this the dirk you carried during your years in the navy?”

“No, that was lost when I was captured by the French. This one belonged to my father. He captained a frigate and died in action.”

She handed the dirk back to him. “Was that why you entered the navy yourself?”

He nodded. “It seemed a worthy occupation. After his death this dirk was returned with the rest of his belongings. My mother gave it to me with stern warnings to keep it sheathed and be very careful because the blade was so sharp.” He regarded the weapon, his gaze distant. “She died not long after and I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle. For months I carried the sheathed dirk all the time. I slept with it every night until my aunt Duval, Simon’s mother, persuaded me to put it away.”

“Why didn’t you carry it when you became an officer yourself?”

“My father’s dirk was too precious to risk. I left it in a chest of small treasures at Simon’s house when I went off to war.” He slid the blade into the sheath at his waist and his coat fell over it. “Time we were off. It’s a cold night, but there’s a bright moon and it’s not far to Duval House.”