His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. ‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. “You’re. Rhea went down, screeching and clawing at the air for the sword, which clanked heavily on the ground. There was a gulf of eight years between her and the youngest of her brace of sisters—an impassable gulf inhabited chaotically by two noisy brothers. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. ‘What’s more, I wouldn’t blame her. ’ Leonardo had taught her that. It never is. Don't worry about me.
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