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’ Lucy was silent for a space, once again wearing that inscrutable expression. He smiled. When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. Jack Sheppard warns Thames Darrell. ” “Don’t be shy, Lucy. Someone was coming out of the house. ” “Not yet,” he said. ’ She smiled on the last words, adding, ‘Oh, I don’t blame you for trying. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there.
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