There's not his peer among the peerage. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. "You frighten the cull out of his senses. She felt draggled and insulted beyond redemption. I swear it. “I could not have stayed in Paris and waited for news. I must apologize, I suppose, for speaking to you, but your appearance certainly indicated that you were in some sort of trouble, and you were becoming—pardon me—an object of comment to the passers-by. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. She paused.
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