Meeting Steve’s gaze, she saw him nod, and laughed. “Yes, you may, my little duckling. We shall have Cook prepare a basket of food for us, and bread for the swans.”

It was a beautiful day, with soft sunlight and a fresh wind that smelled sweet and clean once they were free of the congested streets. Steve handled the horses with careless competence. Hyde Park, with its majestic trees, serpentine roads and winding streams, was unexpectedly peaceful in the midst of the chaotic city. Flowers cascaded in tended beds, and a fountain spewed torrents of water that glistened in the light like diamond drops. London was decked in summer finery, with masses of lavender, forget-me-nots and roses spicing the air with fragrance and brilliant color.

Ginny, garbed in a light gown of green-striped cotton, trimmed in grosgrain green ribbons to match her gown and Laura’s, thought that she had never been as happy as she was at that moment. With her children and her husband at her side, she could conquer anything the world might toss her way….

And indeed, they made a lovely spectacle as Steve, so darkly handsome in his casual jacket and trim trousers, handled the reins with relaxed expertise. Ginny was the very image of a doting mother, an exquisite creature laughing with her children as they sped past pedestrians.

“Do you see them?” inquired an observer of his comrade.

The second man, taller than his companion, did not take his eyes from the phaeton as it passed them where they stood in the encompassing shade of a towering oak. “Yes. I know him. It is the woman who interests me, however. She is the one we need.”

“They are all tools, my friend. Weapons in our battle against injustice.”

As the phaeton sped past, none of the occupants noticed the men watching them with such intense scrutiny. One day, they would notice them—but by then it would be too late.

6

It was to be their last official social event before leaving London, and Ginny took great care with her toilette. Berthilde, looking distracted and harried, scurried from the dressing room to the bedchamber with another gown, finding at last the one that they both liked, while Steve waited impatiently.

“If we are to get there before the late supper tonight, you’d best choose a gown, Ginny.”

From amidst the bouquet of crimson-and-yellow silks scattered on the wide tapestried bed like wilted flowers, Ginny’s voice sang out, “I chose the one I’m wearing. I’ll be ready in just a moment!”

By the time she emerged, Steve considered the results well worth the wait. Standing in the entrance hall, he heard her coming down the sweep of stairs and turned to comment on her tardiness.

A shimmering copper skirt floated around her legs, reflecting lamplight, and the snug bodice clung to her breasts and small waist with cunning efficiency. A filmy wrap seemed to drift around her bare shoulders.