He was every bit as much a pig as this Emile. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. ‘And what the devil do you mean by demanding that I wait on you here? D’you think I haven’t enough to do handling that caper-witted female’s affairs, without dancing attendance on you?’ ‘Don’t be cross,’ begged Lucilla, much to Melusine’s disgust. He has got Blueskin with him. When he returned from pissing, he sat down with her. I didn't expect you home before that hour, Sir. Nor is Theresa, or even Thérèse.
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