If I’d known, there would have been a different story. Just as he reached them, the Comte de St Erme drew Valade a little apart and began to converse with him in rapid French. Melusine sighed with frustration. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. I had left Paris. “Hainault was Celeste’s friend, and Celeste was Annabel’s enemy,” Courtlaw said. Melusine came back to the present to discover that tears were rolling down her cheeks.
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