‘Very well, Kimble. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock. 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. Edgeworth Bess and Poll Maggot are dying to see you. ’ Gerald reached out and took her hand, enclosing it between both his own. “And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr.
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