‘You’d do the same. “The unaccountable thing is that I wouldn’t go home to please her. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. ‘You were right, miss.
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