My, um, my curfew. She had to do her thinking at home—under inspection. ‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove. She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave.
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