As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. Certain phases of irony always caused him to chuckle audibly. But I can give it its name now. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. ’ ‘I spit on your plan,’ Melusine told him furiously. She turned a resolute face southward. ‘You should be. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. ’ At last.
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