But she no longer felt Jacomo’s age, even if she looked it. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. She laid her hand upon his arm. ‘I told her you couldn’t have been flirting, but she wouldn’t believe me. Do not mistake me. It was horrible, but she must do it. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested.
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