He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. To disillusion her, forthwith. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. She rose to the fire to stoke it. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. It is not every sort of creature needs—these males. But I’m thinking as how I’d best report to the major over this here shooting.
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