Lady Lescelles, graceful, very fashionably but quietly dressed, leaned back and watched her with shrewd kindly eyes. ‘But I’m hanged if I know why you find it so amusing. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly. She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later.
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