Melusine whirled. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. The room was intimate and wonderful to her with its shadows now cast over the girlish menagerie of stuffed animals. ‘That little kiss cost him his sanctuary, my girl, and don’t you forget it. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. When the disillusion comes, when the fairy story ends, if she is blessed with children, she doesn't mind. She turned there and beckoned.
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