She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion. ‘Speak, then. Which are you—Valade or Charvill? Or, no, let me guess. We had such a pride in you, such hope in you. ’ The dagger was in her hand. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. Nevertheless, Ann Veronica found it a difficult matter not to think of these things. I want to do without that for a time.
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