But this was a vicomte’s sister. “Steady on!” he cried. ‘Where was I? Oh yes. I don’t care if you never tell me any of your secrets. Presently. Of course there are, millions of them. But his life, ruled by chance and the fight to survive had appealed strongly to Melusine’s rebellious spirit. ‘What’s this? Impertinence! French manners, is it?’ ‘Grace à vous,’ Melusine threw at him fiercely. He was into the passage in time to see her slip into another chamber at the end. “You shall,” she said. Oh, I know. The vast mirrored chamber, with its four little square window bays, two either side of the large raised dais that led to the French doors, was very full of company for the start of the Little Season. If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime. A pretty name for a pretty girl.
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