Oh the back of her arm she found the faintest down of hair in the world. ‘How could you possibly know it?’ ‘I know it,’ Lucilla told him frostily, ‘because Dorothée told me that Madame Valade went off with Gerald positively purring in her ear—which is a thing he never does—and came back with him looking like the cat after cream. Martha had been careful to make no mention of Melusine, and did not reply to Mrs Ibstock’s enquiry about the fate of the little babe. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. ‘What was Leonardo to you?’ Melusine was instantly on the defensive. For a few minutes he kept them at bay. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers.
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