" "Willingly," replied Wild. She looked steadfastly out. I am the richest man in England. It is impossible. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. Let me have more light, that I may behold him. Lucy saw it happen as if in slow motion. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. Yet there was nothing for her to do. ‘Looks like it. Say I will come to him.
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