When she came to herself, she found that her brother had quitted the room, leaving her to the care of a female attendant. 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. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. “Run in now. ‘For that, I must conceal that I also have enjoyed the kiss. Then blackness. I was mean to him.
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