” “And what do you think I ought to do?” “Exactly!” He lifted a paper-weight and dabbed it gently down again. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. ‘Now you see why it is I no longer require the proof of which I have spoken. He pressed the bloody wrist into her mouth, and she though she could not feel it or 72 control it, she knew she was being made to swallow. ’ ‘Quite right, Gerald,’ approved Lucilla. He paced faster, stomping around. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming.
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