‘Your mystery lady, I mean. ” She lingered over her tea, and glancing around, a sudden reflection on the change in her surroundings from the scene of her last night’s supper brought a faint, humorous smile to her lips. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. According to Lucilla, this comtesse had constituted herself something of a social leader in the rapidly growing assemblage of refugees, and would undoubtedly be ready to introduce an eligible bachelor appropriately. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. Bird, the turner, to give him an order this evening.
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