’ ‘How do you know?’ Lucilla repeated, almost as sceptical as her intended spouse. And probably the girl would wear herself out, too. ‘Would that your mistress were as trusting. “One has such ridiculous ideas of the wicked common people and the beautiful machinery of order that ropes them in. Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful. All she needed to do was to have a body. What was the fellow doing in this part of the town? Had not Lady Bicknacre said he was living at Paddington? The Frenchman, booted and neat in buckskin breeches and a plain frockcoat, a flat-brimmed hat on his head, paused a moment at an intersection with one of the roads leading north, apparently seeking a street sign. ’ Before she could object, Melusine found herself hustled back into the house and dragged willy-nilly towards the library door, where Jack called softly.
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