Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. Her hormones were raging stupidly. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. I did it in self-defence. ’ ‘How do you know?’ Lucilla repeated, almost as sceptical as her intended spouse. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue.
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