’ ‘But you managed to escape nevertheless,’ Gerald said calmly, ‘disguising yourself as a nun. She felt that with Capes near to her she would be content always to go on loving. As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. “I doubted my luck, at least. The subterranean level of the Diedermayer house was fully bedecked with every luxury known to mankind. .
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