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1740, Venice

Miss Kathleen Strong was so hungry she could have eaten three of the pigeons that norh St Mark’s Square, raw The only proble that they ily little creatures, and every ti that a scarecrow like her wouldn’t be providing bread cru rain There were no tourists The pigeons had deserted the place

Still, she could be glad of the rain It kept her awake and alert enough to make her appointment with Sir Wesley Marblethorpe She hadn’t had a bed in two days, and sleeping in an alleyway had its drawbacks, like rats and other nighttime predators She had no weapon apart fro, fairly suitable for jabbing asqueamish

She was reasonably clean, thanks to the presence of water everywhere Her serviceable gray dress was stained, to be sure, but she’d gotten ed to plait her hair in severe braids, affixing them to the base of her neck with the hairpin cum Excalibur She knew that Sir Wesley would see her just as she was, a proper British governess, down on her luck, ad he didn’t look too closely, she would qualify for whatever forot the job she h nerve to request an advance on her salary and she could liberate her nora Montalba, the beady-eyed landlady who’d kicked her out two days ago The very idea of asking such a boon made her shrink with shame, but her last meal had been a withered apple, and that was a day and a half ago If she didn’t get so to end up facedown in the Grand Canal

Palazzo del Zaglia was up ahead, on one of the less busy campos There were none of Venice’s omnipresent cats around, and Kathleen wondered idly if she’d ever eat one Probably not She liked cats

In truth, there was no way to tell for sure if this large, crulia She should have approached it froondola

She would just have to hope for the best The steady beat of the rain had turned her bonnet into a soddenlimply around her face, and her hair was plastered to her head beneath it She would look unprepossessing indeed, but the advertisement said Sir Wesley was quite desperate As was she Surely a match made in heaven

She cli door and pulled the bell Next she’d have to face a superior servant, who ht just send her off with a flea in her ear She had no idea what she’d do in that case

But the man who opened the door was a far cry from a servant A bit on the short side, with a little toopate, he wore a well-trioatee and had the s?" He had a high-pitched, al?"

She wondered if she was supposed to curtsy If she tried she ht very well pass out at his feet, which would hardly iht dip "Sir Wesley?" she said hopefully

"Indeed But , you’re soaked! Please come in out of the rain and dry off My friends won’t "

"Your friends?" she said doubtfully, relinquishing her bonnet and reticule into the hands of the supercilious servant she’d been expecting

"Marcello, please take Miss Strong into the dining roo, I’ll be joining you in a moment"

Her brain hadn’t melted in the Venetian rain, even if it felt like it She knew, immediately, that this was not the kind of e She should say she’d et out of there as fast as she possibly could

But where could she go?

Sir Wesley must have read the indecision on her face, and he shty little boy intent on hty little boys and she knew just how to handle therown version couldn’t be so different