Once he had managed to stake his claim, she would have all to do to prove her identity and win it back. ‘You would like? And do you imagine that I will tell you?’ ‘Won’t you?’ ‘No, a thousand times. ’ He glanced about and saw his quarry holding court at one end of the vast mirrored chamber. I do not blame you for the act. That was the glorious if bewildering truth. He patted the hand on his sleeve. This is your choice. "You've won your wager. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. You have betrayed me. But it's best to be on the safe side. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago.
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