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baron in the Piazza San Marco, but she could not say for certain that it had been him at her door earlier… .
    “Miss Milbanke, I hope that nothing I have told you about him has brought on this agitation, for if it is, then I cannot apologize to you enough.”
    “It has nothing to do with what you have said.”
    They continued up the staircase and halted at last by her door. “What will you do tomorrow?” he asked.
    “Tomorrow?” She had not thought beyond tonight… .
    “If it will help in any way, I can escort you to and from the dining room. We can, as you so aptly put it, present a united front.” He smiled. “And I can reap the benefits of escorting the most beautiful woman in Venice.”
    The compliment was unexpected and oddly reassuring somehow. “Thank you, Sir Nicholas.”
    “For the offer or for the compliment?”
    “Both.”
    “As to the compliment, well I believe it is long overdue, considering my odious conduct until now, I apologize, Miss Milbanke, for I vented my anger upon you, and it is not your fault that my problems seem without satisfactory solution. You have stoically endured my heavy presence and must surely have wished me in Hades. Forgive me.”
    “There is nothing to forgive, sir,” she said, for suddenly his crimes were forgotten as she smiled into his eyes.
    “And you wish me to walk to the dining room with you in the morning?”
    “I would be most grateful.”
    “Then I shall come at half past nine.”
    “Thank you.”
    He took her hand and kissed it. “Sleep well, Miss Milbanke.”
    “And you, Sir Nicholas.”
    She watched him walk away along the richly decorated passage toward his own room. His hair was very golden in the lamplight, and his figure, clad in dark blue velvet, looked very tall and impressive. How good it had been to see that other side of him, and how especially good to be flattered by him. If it were not for the unseen presence of Miss Augustine Townsend, it would be easy to read more into his change of heart, but Laura knew that that would be foolish. He was being kind because he thought she was frightened. No more than that.
    Suddenly something made her turn sharply to look over her shoulder. It was that same uneasy sensation of being secretly watched. It seemed that a shadow moved swiftly out of sight by some velvet drapes. The baron… . He had been there, listening. She opened her door and went swiftly inside, locking it securely behind her. She listened, her breath held. But there was no sound. She relaxed a little then, tossing her reticule and fan onto the console table and teasing her evening gloves off finger by finger. Pulling her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, she stepped out onto the balcony.
    The welcome night breeze ruffled her hair and whispered against the cool silk of her gown. In the moonlight the grape hyacinths in their window boxes were turned to silver and on the water below the lights of Venice flashed and twinkled on the moving surface.
    On the steps below she heard the baron hailing a gondola. Leaning forward she saw his unmistakable figure climbing into a gondola which was then pushed away, gliding from the hotel steps as the gondolier poled it out into the center of the Grand Canal. Laura breathed out slowly. She was safe for the time being. So great was the comfort of knowing that Frederick von Marienfeld was not in the hotel that she began to hum a little tune as she undressed and prepared for bed.
     

Chapter 6
     
    She was ready the next morning a quarter of an hour before she expected Nicholas to call. Once again she was wearing the pale green sprigged muslin gown she had worn on her first morning in Venice, and she stood on the balcony watching the fruit barges making their way to market.
    Someone knocked at her bedchamber door, and she turned in surprise. Nicholas was early. She hurried to open the door, but the smile of welcome died on her lips as she saw not Nicholas but the baron standing there.
    She could not