His touch sent shivers running through her, but Melusine did not withdraw her hand. ‘I do not know. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. And Leonardo told me never to trust any man.’
‘Leonardo again,’ Gerald muttered and, to her disappointment, dropped her hand. ‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’
‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. ‘He wanted me also to run away with him, and I wish very much that I had done so.’
‘What, a common soldier?’
‘He was not a common soldier. He was an officer, and a person of very great sense, and altogether a desirable parti.’
‘He doesn’t sound like a desirable parti. How did you meet him?’
‘He was wounded and came to the convent for sanctuary,’ Melusine told him, stung by his criticism into revealing more than she had intended.
‘If he needed sanctuary, it raises grave doubts about his activities.’
‘Well, but he was a deserter, you see. That is very bad, certainly, and for this he was extremely sorry. It was a duel, you understand, and that is not permitted.’
‘A pretty tale. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune.’
‘Yes, that is what he said,’ agreed Melusine, pleased to find him of so ready an understanding.
‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. ‘You don’t even know what it means, do you?’
Melusine frowned. ‘Comment? What do you say?’
Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had hero-worshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. But she had loved the man. Loved his memory still, for all he knew. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her.
‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. ‘But tell me this instead. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out.’
Melusine’s eyes flashed. ‘That is not your affair. En tout cas, no one has asked you to puzzle out anything at all. Least of all myself.’
‘Yes, but I’m hanged if I see what your game is.’
‘I have no game.’
‘Your plan, then. Why are you doing all this?’
To his surprise, Melusine relaxed back, emitting a laugh that sounded perfectly genuine.
‘But that is easy. It is so that I may marry an Englishman. Why else?’
Gerald stared at her blankly. ‘Marry an Englishman! Which Englishman?’
Melusine shrugged. ‘That I do not yet know. I shall have to discover one suitable.’
Taken aback, Gerald let out a short laugh. ‘Don’t be so absurd.’
‘It is you who is absurd,’ countered Melusine, the spark returning to her eye. ‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies. Now when I tell you exactly the truth, you will also not believe me.’
‘Because I have never heard anything so ridiculous,’ Gerald announced. ‘You escape from your own convent, at great personal danger. You come to England, and hide in a secret convent in London. You break into a gentleman’s residence—’
‘I did not break in.’
‘Don’t interrupt me! You break into a gentleman’s residence, I say, and hold up two members of His Majesty’s peacekeeping forces with a pistol. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. You skulk in shadows, following an émigré. You come to visit a completely different gentleman at his home. And you tell me that the reason you are doing all this is so that you can marry an Englishman!’
Melusine giggled. ‘When you say it like this, certainly it appears absurd. As absurd as that you take this interest in my affairs. But it is the truth.’
‘Then who is this Englishman?’ demanded Gerald on a sceptical note. ‘Some ineligible that your parents would not tolerate, I suppose.’
‘Ah.’ There was satisfaction in Melusine’s voice. ‘That was one of my own clever stories.’
Gerald frowned in an effort of memory, and then laughed as he recalled one of the lies she had invented for his benefit. ‘So it was.’
‘And it is very stupid of you to think of such a thing, because in this case, why should I seek out my family?’
Triumph rose in Gerald’s breast, but he took care to conceal it. That was an admission all right.
‘You are not the only one to seek them out,’ he said.
‘Do you think I do not know? If this pig has not done so, there would be no need for me to do it. I do not wish to seek them out, en effet.’
‘Will you go back there?’ asked Gerald. ‘To see Charvill.’
She sighed. ‘I must, for that the pig has already gone to monsieur le baron.’
‘You mean Valade? Don’t be downhearted. Charvill does not believe the general will accept them.’
She seemed to recollect herself suddenly. ‘Parbleu, how you make me talk!’
