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keep poor company, Miss Milbanke.”
    “I know,” she said coldly. “I’m sitting with it.”
    A glimmer of a smile touched his lips. “I was referring to your friend the baron.”
    “He is not my friend. I hardly know him.”
    “He, on the other hand, would quite obviously like to know you a great deal better.”
    “I assure you that those feelings are not in the least reciprocated.”
    “Beware of him. He is a notorious and dangerous man —certainly not someone I would think suitable company for you.”
    “Notorious and dangerous?”
    “He is virtually a professional duelist; his services can be purchased and he is considered to be almost above the law here in Venice as he is a close friend and confidant of the governor.”
    She stared at him, the coldness she had felt before about the baron returning now that she knew the truth.
    “At least ten men have died at his hand, Miss Milbanke, six by the pistol and four by the sword. He is equally proficient with both weapons.”
    “I did not know,” she breathed.
    “I thought not. Have great care in your dealings with him, for his notoriety does not stop at dueling. His reputation with the far sex leaves much to be desired.”
    Her dealings with him? Once again she felt that she was being unfairly condemned for appearing on the balcony in her undress. Did he imagine she was a demimondaine, a Cyprian whose favors could be purchased as easily as could the baron’s prowess as a duelist? An angry flush stained her cheeks as she got to her feet, folding her napkin. “I thank you for your timely warning, sir, and I shall take care to conduct myself decorously in future,” she said stiffly.
    “You would be wise to avoid the baron’s company entirely, madam.”
    “Why, Sir Nicholas,” she said with sugary sweetness, “that is exactly what I have been endeavoring to do this evening. Why else would I wish to sit with you? Good night.”
     

Chapter 5
     
    For the next week or so, Laura enjoyed Venice. Venice in the springtime was probably at its finest, for the burning heat of summer would take the edge off pleasure, and indeed the wealthy citizens of the city took themselves to the mainland during the hottest months when the canals could smell so unpleasant and the mosquitoes and other insects came to torment the unwary. In March, however, it was perfect —as warm as May in England, and as colorful, with its flowers and trees bursting into blossom. The glorious city and its treasures were a constant source of delight to Laura, never tiring her and never causing a moment’s boredom.
    The only clouds on her horizon were those which appeared at breakfast and dinner in the hotel when she shared Sir Nicholas Grenville’s table. She continued to endure his presence, for to have asked to be seated elsewhere would be to risk the baron thrusting himself upon her again. But one thing became more and more obvious to her with each passing day, and that was that she was still annoyingly drawn to the blond Englishman. He paid her scant attention, but she yearned for him to be more pleasant. He was not, however, and she kept her self-respect by treating him in exactly the same way that he treated her. The result was that they conducted their meals in virtual silence, apart from a polite greeting before and after.
    She was very careful to keep out of the baron’s way, although that was very difficult when she was sure that he was still following her. She met him on the grand staircase and he begged her to attend the theater with him, but she declined, pleading a headache she quite obviously did not have. She became adept at waiting until there was a crowd of officers in the vestibule before entering or leaving the hotel, so that she could slip past him without him being able to stop her. She had disliked him at first sight, and now that she knew more about him she found him quite abhorrent.
    When she was sightseeing, she frequently felt that he was watching her, and when she