“But—your people!” she gasped. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. Thank goodness you’ll understand. He hesitated for a moment and then he followed her. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature. Well, come back in half an hour. He had been gone entirely one day, for yesterday afternoon he had departed from Remenham House, and she had waited with patience like a saint, and now it was again the afternoon.
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