‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. Gerald took Madame’s hand and kissed the fingers with a little more warmth than punctilio demanded. She mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal encounters with him in that instant. That’s why I chucked Manning. 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. It was enough. ’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily. ‘Well?’ she said.
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