‘Idiot. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. There was, it might be said, a double illumination. It’s one of our conventional superstitions. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men. He drew her close up to him with a strong, steady pull. I’ll drive you home once my buzz goes away.
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