‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. John finally wrested her away from the company of his parents, insisting that he wanted to take a walk in the park before it was completely dark. Her lips came together with an expression between contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and eager for freedom and life. But you—you have a good face. He was tender with her as he had not been in years. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. And for Suzanne and the vicomte, I am nothing. I wonder ——” “London is a huge place,” Brendon said.
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