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“My former partner. For other crimes. He is now on a ship bound for Sydney and a new life.”

Viv stole a glance at him. He was perfect, exquisite, and seemed to have answers for all her questions. She wanted to undo him, to ruffle him the way the breeze dared to ruffle his hair. She was a mess in an old muslin gown and a borrowed straw hat, the wind pulling strands from her barely contained hair. She had accused him of deception, but that first day, she had been equally false, dressed in borrowed plumage, her purse full of pebbles.

“Did you ever love me?” she asked.

“From the first moment I saw you, like a piece of sky fallen to earth.” He was staring out to sea.

“You could not have. I shot you.”

He turned to her, and his mouth quirked up in a grin. “And changed my idea of who and what a woman could be. Will you marry me?”

“Madness! You are a pickpocket, and I am the dowerless daughter of people who cannot manage their pennies.”

“Actually,” he said. “I am a banker’s grandson, and you are a published author, Viv. I brought you a birthday gift to prove it.”

“What do you mean a banker?”

“Remind me,” he said, “to tell you the true story of my life someday, but first, I want you to open this.” He handed her a brown paper package.

Viv took it into her lap.

“Go on,” he said.

She unknotted the string and unfolded the wrapping. There was the lady’s guide to London. She shot him a worried glance.

“Open it. Look at the title page.”

She did as he bid. There was her name, right where she had dreamed it would be. She turned to him astonished. Tears came and rolled down her cheeks unchecked. “You did this?”

“Happy birthday, Viv. Lady Melforth chose to do right by you.”

A plaintive cry interrupted him. Viv turned to locate the sound. Below them on the sand was a gull chick, with the dark gray plumage of a young bird. It limped toward the water, crying its sad cry, dragging one wing that didn’t fold properly, leaving an odd trail in the wet sand. At the water’s edge a white gull hovered briefly above the chick, then landed, bustled to the sad one’s side and offered a morsel of food. The desolate cry ceased. The two birds nestled into the sand, facing out to sea.

Viv turned away from the birds to find Lark watching her. She wiped the tears from her wet cheeks. He reached into a pocket and pulled out something that flashed briefly in the sun as he held it out to her in his open palm, a gold chain run through a small lead ball. Her gaze flashed up to his. “You kept it.”

“Do you love me, Viv?”

She reached out and took hold of his perfect silk tie and tugged it loose, exposing the column of his throat. “I didn’t want to love you,” she said. She flattened her palm against his chest. “I didn’t think I did.” She pushed against him. His arms came around her and held, but she kept pushing until they keeled over, coming to rest against the warm rock. Looking down into his face, she said, “I couldn’t explain to myself why I was so out of reason sad without you. Now, I know. I love you, Lark.”

“I love you, Viv.” His arms tightened around her, and his mouth met hers, and she did not think she would ever stop kissing him, until she stopped thinking at all.