It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. Nor as I’ve to put up with a French spy in my parlour—’ ‘Peste, how you talk,’ interrupted Melusine impatiently, barely taking in his complaints. Before that came your father didn’t even know you were gone. “Do you know that boy very well, Shar?” Cathy Beck yelled in the general direction of the lavatory.
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