I could resist the tempter now, I am strong in health,—in mind. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams.
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