His kisses drew deeper, he started unlacing her dress. "Not as I loved mine. . As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. “Take off your tunic. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. Oh, you must believe me. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. “That cannot happen!” She replied, feeling her world start to disintegrate underneath her feet. “Put her in the trunk. “I may not see the Widgetts for some little time, father,” she said.
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