” He said. ’ ‘Nothing of the sort,’ Gerald said calmly, sipping at his burgundy. It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. ’ A multitude of changes flitted across Melusine’s features as she stood there for a space, unusually silent. You heard her. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. But he held the smile until she turned away from the curtain. She had known that Remenham House would be deserted, for Martha—released, as she had carefully explained to her charge, by her vows to God from servitude and obedience to Nicholas Charvill, a mere mortal—had begun a correspondence with a friend of her youth, Mrs Joan Ibstock, née Pottiswick.
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