For all her begging she had been given the choice to go into the nunnery and “learn how to read scrolls with the rest of God’s Spinsters” by her father, but had quickly lost interest when presented with the idea of bearing babies. She was gone. ‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. I consented to become Mrs. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. She had been carrying them, he assumed, but then again the school had some particularly talented kids among the usual ruffians. The necessity of defending herself and assuming a confident and secure tone did much to dispell the sense of being exposed and indefensible in a huge dingy world that abounded in sinister possibilities.
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