Now do you see?’ Melusine frowned. Priests and princes sought his knowledge of languages and philosophy and wantonly tried to throw themselves into his bed. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. And who is the man you are not allowed to marry? Valade, perhaps?’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ exclaimed the girl, jumping up. Who she is I have not discovered, but she is masquerading as Melusine, and for all I know, is not even married to the man who calls himself Valade. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. “Do you think he’s still around?” She paused thoughtfully. Loved his memory still, for all he knew.
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