She made herself a private declaration of liberty. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. The Supper at Mr. . . ’ He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and brought out a packet of papers. Lucy did her best to avoid talking about it, but the subject was beguiling, as it almost always brought news about him from the grapevine within which Michelle was intravenously entwined. Stanley coughed and faced toward the house. She feasted reluctantly, partly out of wonder at the new function of her often elongated canines. ‘Then let her keep her Frenchified titles to herself.
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