‘Your last letter said that you’d been to France.’

‘Yes, I was back in Paris once more.’

‘I’m not sure that I’d ever want to go there again,’ she said with feeling. ‘I don’t have happy memories of our time there.’

‘But that’s where you met me,’ he pointed out, feigning dismay. ‘I’d hoped that that might qualify as a happy memory.’

She squeezed his hand. ‘It does, Daniel. You know that. I’m just sad that we met in such unfortunate circumstances.’

It was well over two years since Daniel had been sent to Paris to find out what had happened to Emanuel Janssen. Braving the accusations of betrayal, the tapestry maker had accepted an invitation to work for Louis XIV at Versailles in order to gather intelligence for the Allies while in such a unique position. Daniel had arrived in the French capital to learn that Janssen was imprisoned in the Bastille and that, even if he managed to rescue him, he would then have to spirit him, his daughter, his assistant and Beatrix out of the closely guarded city and back to the safety of their own country. Though the seemingly impossible feat was finally accomplished, it had been beset by recurring perils.

In the course of their adventures, he and Amalia had been drawn together into something more meaningful than a friendship. Since he was constantly on the move, he could maintain only a fitful correspondence with her. Whenever he was able to visit Amsterdam, however, he always made straight for her house. Seeing her again was a joy. Amalia was short, slight and fair with a delicate beauty that had captivated him. Having been a soldier all his adult life, Daniel was used to taking his pleasures where he found them before moving on. In Amalia Janssen, he’d at last found a woman who was much more than a passing conquest.

‘Tell me where you’ve been since we last met,’ she pressed.

‘It would take far too long.’