“Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. ’ ‘But, Hilary—’ ‘Don’t you begin, Lucilla, for I won’t stand for it. Wood, with a look meant to reduce her supposed rival to the dust. Tell the whole truth. ” She wondered how much history she could reinvent before losing track of her own lies. What was the fellow doing in this part of the town? Had not Lady Bicknacre said he was living at Paddington? The Frenchman, booted and neat in buckskin breeches and a plain frockcoat, a flat-brimmed hat on his head, paused a moment at an intersection with one of the roads leading north, apparently seeking a street sign. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it.
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