Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards, and at the top a small pine plantation. “Won’t you give me your address?” She shook her head. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. Lucy complied, slipping the tight jeans over her white underwear. ‘I suppose this is the cavalier you had with you when you—er—attended the ball the other night?’ ‘Jacques is very useful to me,’ Melusine confirmed, bestowing that same radiant smile on the young man, whose features were instantly suffused with scarlet. This she put into the trunk. I consider even now that the present colour is far less becoming.
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