‘A word, if you please, my friend. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. “Please, Michelle, let’s not fight. The day comes when you shall regret how you have spoken to me. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. And in this fact lay his danger. “I really owe him something of an apology. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. ‘And it is perhaps not so necessary that I do so, because Joan has told me of another who may like to say I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. ‘But you,’ she said in the friendliest way imaginable, ‘are a person tout à fait sympathique, I think. “I believe so.
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