” “Who will?” “The police! The families of the people I’ve killed! I’m guilty!” “How old do I have to be?” “I beg your pardon?” “To be of use to you. Dorling said. One must be on guard. He rolled onto his belly, freeing himself from her hands, pushing her away. I was his wife. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. There was something holding women down, holding women back, and if it wasn’t exactly man-made law, man-made law was an aspect of it.
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