Then he understood. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. ‘She didn’t behave in the least like an émigré, if these people are anything to go by. They are mine! They were sent to ‘Alcide’ not to you. I think I asked if I could eat lunch with her and Trisha Deere one day and she said there was no room at the table. I certainly didn’t mean to kiss you. A white man takes his life in his hands. ‘You don’t believe her?’ ‘My dear Major Alderley, I do not know her,’ Mrs Sindlesham pointed out.
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