Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. The boy was right. ‘Forgive me, Mrs Sindlesham, but do you tell me this inheritance that Melusine has fought so hard to recover is completely wasted?’ The old lady gave him a sharp look. His attention drawn, the captain was easily able to make out the pretty features under the feathered hat, and the same dark riding habit the fugitive had worn on that first occasion at Remenham House.
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