He certainly bore inspection. His head bent down, intent on kissing her underneath the showerhead. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. That she was provoked by his interference was obvious. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet. ” “What do you mean—by too late?” he demanded. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour. “Mr.
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