I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. ‘Well then, Melusine,’ he said calmly, ‘it seems as if we must get you your dowry willy-nilly. Cathy Beck was terribly upset and was on the verge of exploding. One mistress enough to ruin a man,—two, the devil. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint.
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