I realized then that when I had said to her, Captain Gabriel Lacey, at your service, Gabriella had given no beat of recognition. She had no idea who I was.

"You did not tell her," I said to Carlotta.

"Not now," Carlotta repeated. "Please, Gabriel, let us speak of this later. For heaven's sake."

The haze cleared from my mind, and I realized that the denizens of Covent Garden teemed about us, watching with interest. Gabriella looked as though she would shout for help at any moment. The peach seller and the ale seller next to him observed us with blatant curiosity, Londoners always keen for an impromptu drama. A large black carriage with fine gray horses shouldered its way through the crowd, people brushing us as they flowed away from it.

I moved my walking stick. I could not very well seize my daughter and drag her away with me, much as I wanted to. We could not split her in two, Solomon-like, in the middle of Covent Garden.

"Where do you stay?" I asked.

"King Street," Carlotta answered. "I promise you, we will speak of it. We will settle it."

"We shall indeed. I will send a man round to fetch you."

Carlotta shook her head. "No, there will be an appointment. He will see to it."

"Who will?"

Carlotta grasped Gabriella's arm again. "Come," she said to her. "Your father is waiting."

That statement startled me a moment before I realized that Carlotta must mean the Frenchman she'd eloped with. The officer who'd thought nothing of living with another man's wife for fifteen years.

Gabriella, with one last bewildered glance at me, let her mother lead her away. Carlotta hurried with her to the north and west side of Covent Garden and out to King Street, and the crowd swallowed them.

I stood in a daze, watching until I could no longer see the two women, the younger one a little taller than the older, walking close, their heads together.