‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before.
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