’ ‘I thank you,’ Gerald said drily. . The swelling in his limbs had also subsided. The rumor mills churned with the news that he harbored for her no ill will, but was simply too busy in his life to have a girlfriend that wasn’t “serious”. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving. No great lover of state or state costume at any time, he was generally, towards the close of an evening, completely in dishabille, and in this condition he now presented himself to his subjects. He wriggled underneath her heaving body, pinned like an insect. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. I chose you for your strength, your cunning, your intelligence, your great beauty.
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