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Alexander Ridlay walked from the laneway beside the hotel straight across the road and through the open gates of the Gardens. His drawing box was tucked tight under one arm. Clement watched him pass by from the shade of a young casuarina tree. Their conversation the previous day, punctuated by seagull cries and droppings, had let him to conclude that young Mr Ridlay was quite enamoured of Miss Florentine Ponsonby. ‘Who is that?’ ‘That, m’dear, is the gent I want you to distract.’ Clement pulled his gloves tighter over his hands and tugged on his jacket sleeves. The woman he’d hired came with glowing references: discreet, smart, and beautiful. Clear blue eyes that sparkled when she laughed and pale pink lips that were entirely kissable. Her drawling accent with a touch of London and the o