As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. “There is something to be said for the lady-like theory after all,” she admitted. What I said about your brat was all stuff. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. “You’re burning up. So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. But I can give it its name now. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. She makes catty comments about you to her friends if you are within hearing distance—that’s her thing—then if you are brave enough to confront her, she just denies it all and laughs at you.
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