Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. Mon cher major, Melusine began. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. Least of all myself.
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