He grew more ardent, sliding her breasts out of the strapless bodice of her gown. Her place was not filled; she had been simply noted as absent, and she did a comforting day of admirable dissection upon the tortoise. ‘Well, young man,’ he said, ‘we haven’t seen you lately,’ and something about ‘Bateson & Co. ’ Melusine frowned, placing her hand on the letter lying on the table. That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. ‘You are not the only one to seek them out,’ he said. I can see the whole thing was just a set-up for sequels, though.
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