‘But he must have—’ ‘Nicholas Charvill never did anything he must do,’ Mrs Sindlesham said evenly. Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. 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. ‘Poor Hilary. Now do you see?’ Melusine frowned. The psychic vibration of him thickened the air of the room as if he were already inside. Women and men had always flocked to him, covetous of his knowledge, his riches, and if all else failed, his carnal expertise.
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