’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. “I want a vote for myself,” she said. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. Very well! I will try to help you. She mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal encounters with him in that instant. The major himself told me that this secret passage started upstairs. “She thinks that Missy is trying to turn me into a punk or a Goth. Within a single week, Lucy’s popularity soared, mostly because of her now publicly acknowledged relationship with John Diedermayer.
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