At times I swear I’ve never met a more jaded fifteen-year-old, and your lie about being sixteen didn’t get by me for one second, believe it. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. This incredible scene robbed him of the sense of locomotion. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. ToC Sir Rowland, meantime, paced his chamber with a quick and agitated step. From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. ‘Yes, only that this consolation he had found before he married my mother.
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