He grasped Lucilla’s elbow. Afraid there'll be a love-affair. Gosse took a step or two towards the centre of the room. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. The stain upon our family is only half effaced: I have sworn the death of the villain and his bastard, and I will keep my oath. ‘Don’t dare call her that to my face. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte.
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