Jack was a comical scoundrel, and made a little too free with his grace's best burgundy, as well as his grace's favourite housekeeper. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. I loved her and made love to her, and I don’t think she quite loved me back in the same way. ‘What’s this? Impertinence! French manners, is it?’ ‘Grace à vous,’ Melusine threw at him fiercely. He had been abusing them for a long time when I arrived. “Annabel;” he moaned.
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