She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise. “Of course you don’t. As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. Lucy stood relieved that she had not messed up the solo. His lips parted in a rare smile. ‘All this gadding about. Wood in a sharp tone. It was ten feet long, a relic. I must finish it at home.
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