It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. 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. There is a new life, different from the old life of dependence, possible. I go back about once a year. The minute he discovers Roding here, he’ll know something is up. ‘But I’ve known that for years. The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman.
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