She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. "I didn't carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. “Who did you live with before the Becks? I hear things. “Will you come in, Sir John. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred.
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