FEBRUARY 1671, LONDON

The line of ships waiting for the legal quays trailed down the river. Captain Shore, staring upriver, his blue eyes squinting against the light drizzle of a cold morning, called for a skiff to take him to the Custom House to ask permission to go straight to the Reekie Wharf and meet a custom officer there.

“You don’t have to unload at the Custom House?” Felipe asked with interest, looking up to the quarterdeck and the Captain.

“Only if you’re carrying special cargo, cargo that pays a royal duty, like coffee or spices, or from the East Indies, or cargo of high value. Our manifest says private goods, furniture and the like.” Captain Shore scowled down at the handsome younger man. “And some barrels of oil, and wine. We can unload them all at Reekie Wharf and pay the duty there. If they were private goods, furniture and the like, then I would have no worries. You tell me they are?”

“I do. And you have an export license that confirms my word.”

“Then of course I am reassured.”

“Do you have to declare the passengers?”

“Of course. And I will,” the Captain warned. “Proper papers. Mrs. Reekie’s reputation is good, and I won’t be a blackguard at her wharf. Proper papers, full declaration. The officer will see you at Reekie Wharf and you can pay your dues and get your passport there. Give me your papers to show at the Custom House.”

Felipe handed over a much-signed document with many ribbons that attested he was Felipe Russo, a trader in antiquities, a member of the guild of stone masons of Venice, a freeman of the city, and entitled to travel where he should wish.

“What about Roberto?” Felipe asked.

“As he’s an Englishman, he needs nothing,” the Captain said. “He’s just coming home. Like Miss Reekie. But they’ll ask if any of us have been in contact with disease.”

“We have not,” Felipe said. “We are all come from Venice, which is—grazie Dio—free of illness.”

“Aye, you have an answer for everything,” Captain Shore said. “Wait on board, till I return.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Felipe said in a parody of obedience, and watched the older man climb down the ladder at the side of the ship and step into the waiting skiff.

“What do we do now?” Sarah asked, appearing at his elbow. “I can almost see my home from here.”

“We have to wait,” he said. “Did you think you would dive in and swim over?”

“No,” she conceded. “I don’t want to do that again.”

“Then I should think you’ll be home this afternoon, as soon as the Captain has permission to dock at your wharf. And then what will we do?”

“I’ll take Rob to my grandma,” she said, smiling in anticipation, “and then we’ll see Livia—at home if she’s there, and if she’s not—we’ll go to Avery House and find her. If you’re still sure?”

“I’m sure,” he told her. “I’m very sure.”

“You’ll unmask her?” she demanded.

“I’ll see what she requires,” he answered ambiguously.

She turned to go back down to her cabin, but he caught the edge of her shawl. “Stay,” he invited her. “Tell me about your home. Show me the landmarks. I’ve never been to London before, tell me about the City?”

Her gaze on his face was very direct. “You’ll find out soon enough,” she said bluntly. “All you need to know for now is that here is the south bank, the poor side of the City where the Nobildonna lives with my family, and uses our space and treats us as if we were there to serve her, and over the river on the north side is where she is headed, where beautiful houses await a cultured and beautiful mistress, where people buy your fraudulent goods, thinking them real, where they enjoy her company, thinking her a woman of quality. It’s an easy city to read. We live here, on this side, the poor side, the dirty side. We’re honest on this side. But Livia is determined to spend her time on the other side. As anybody would. You as well, I expect. That’s where you will ‘see what she requires.’ That side is for the nobility and the liars, those for who appearance matters more than truth. People like her; people like you.”

He took her hand and kissed it, glancing up at her. “No,” was all he said.

“No what?” Sarah said, pulling her hand away.

“I am ready to become an honest man, I no longer want to be one with the nobility and the liars. You can stretch out your hand and save me, Miss Jolie. Miss Pretty. Let me be on your side.”

She looked at him as if she did not wholly trust him. “You are reformed?”

He smiled at her, shamelessly attractive. “If you will save me?”