Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. ’ ‘Not, I trust, Nicholas Charvill?’ ‘Hardly. 8 or 1. ’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face. “I know. She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion.
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