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."
Nick took pity on Susan. "Why do you not clear the table, Susan. It seems that the dishes have lain overlong."
Her relief patent at having a customary function to perform, Susan mumbled apologies and set to, disappearing from the parlor with a laden tray.
"Does Susan please you?" Nick pinched Polly's chin, looking deep into her eyes. "You are at ease with her, and she will have no difficulty understanding what you require of a helper."
"Aye, she pleases me," she said, touching his lips with a delicate finger. "As no one else could." She drew back from him as the cold shadow of the morning obtruded into this love-lit warmth. "You had a pleasant walk with His Grace, I trust?"
"He was at some pains to indicate his interest in my mistress," Nick said evenly. "As I was at pains to appear totally indifferent."
"Aye, 'twas what I thought would be discussed." She turned back to the fire. "I made it clear this morning that I was available. But I refused an invitation for this evening. It seemed wise to appear not overeager."
"How did he react to such a refusal?" Nicholas went to the sideboard to pour wine. "Have you had sufficient, or shall I refill your glass?" He held the decanter, an eyebrow raised in question.
"There is no performance this afternoon, but I have to return to the theatre for another rehearsal," she said with a grimace. "I had best have no more, lest I make further er-
rors. Thomas is like to prove uncommon difficult in such a case."
"Further errors?"
Polly shrugged and told him the story of her morning's ploy. "It worked well enough," she finished. "But to answer your question about the duke's reaction to my refusaclass="underline" I do not think he was best pleased, at first. But then he seemed to take it in his stride." She poked the fire, sending sparks shooting up the chimney. "I do not think 'twill be long before I receive another invitation-one that I will accept."
The following morning, the household quiet was shattered by the hammering of the door knocker. Polly, in the absence of Nicholas and his strictures on correct deportment at mealtimes, was consuming a peripatetic breakfast while she roamed the parlor muttering lines between rnouthfuls, and improvising gestures as they came to her.
"I'll see who 'tis," Sue said, putting down one of Polly's gowns she had been examining for tears and stains. "Ye'U get the indigestion if ye don't stop all this muttering an' movin' whilst yer eating." She went to the parlor door.
"Y'are as fussy as my lord," Polly said with a chuckle, going to the window to see if any clue as to the visitor would be found on the street. A lad in the Duke of Buckingham's livery stood in the lane. All humor left her, to be replaced by a quiet stillness, the same stillness that always followed the moment of panic before she went onstage, one that allowed her to assume a persona not her own.
' 'Tis a message and a parcel for ye." Sue came into the parlor, bearing a small package and a folded paper. "From His Grace of Buckingham, the boy says. He's waitin' on yer answer."
Polly opened the paper. The script was bold and black, the invitation couched in flowery language and hedged about with compliments. She opened the accompanying package, and Sue gasped. A delicate brooch, shaped like a
daisy, made of silver filigree studded with diamonds and seed pearls, lay on Polly's palm.
" Tis exquisite," Polly murmured, half to herself. Her refusal of such a gift would certainly intrigue His Grace, particularly when the returned present was accompanied by acceptance of his invitation to a small gathering at his house in the Strand the following evening. He would not know what to make of such mixed messages.
"Sue, ye must give this back to the messenger." She wrapped up the brooch again. "But tell him that Mistress Wyat is very happy to accept the duke's invitation for tomorrow… Of course," she added, a touch disconsolately, " 'twould be better if I were to write the message, but I cannot be sure of spelling it correctly, and I cannot wait for my lord's help."