” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. “It is concerning—our future relations,” Sir John pronounced ponderously. Beware of him, my son! Beware of him! You know not what villany he is capable of. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Womanhood is sacred to me. When she finally did take her own lover, it was not with a member of the household staff. I found him once in my rooms, and I believe that he had a key to my front door.
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