” “He certainly did not follow you out,” Brendon answered. Do help me, Lady Ferringhall. But what can we do? Here am I, fixed to respectability and this laboratory; you’re living at home. ’ He took a pace forward, seizing the gun with one hand, while the other locked her arm so that he could forcibly wrest the weapon from her. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together.
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