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. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. I don’t want to hear you. He even hugged her a few times, something he had never done. Let us be friends—as near and close as friends can be.
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