” “Has my sister been unkind to you?” “The family,” he declared, “has not treated me with consideration. He placed his chin upon the top of her head. ‘But you have told them that I have been disguised, no? That I have broken into Remenham House, and—’ ‘No, no, child, don’t be alarmed,’ said her great-aunt, her tone soothing. . ’ ‘I thank you,’ Gerald said drily. Get nothing out of me. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. She had known that Remenham House would be deserted, for Martha—released, as she had carefully explained to her charge, by her vows to God from servitude and obedience to Nicholas Charvill, a mere mortal—had begun a correspondence with a friend of her youth, Mrs Joan Ibstock, née Pottiswick. I was a novelty. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. ’ ‘It will be worth the pain, you will see.
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