Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. “There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people. 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. Melusine did not try to fight her captor, for that would only make him angry.
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