A smile flickered upon her lips as she glanced towards Brendon, who was very serious indeed. “Annabel Pellissier is known to most of us. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. I do not wish to seek them out, en effet. ” He saw her into the train at Waterloo, and stood, a tall, grave figure, with hat upraised, as the carriage moved forward slowly and hid him. He turned back at once.
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