‘At last,’ he cried, ‘I have found you!’ He would listen to nothing. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. ‘You’ll come with us and get yourself safe back home to your convent, understand?’ ‘But wait,’ begged Melusine, hanging back. Why had he offered her that kiss on board The Tigress? Perhaps that had been his hour of disenchantment. Marry me. Nobody knows what his real name is, but he's a Hollander.
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