That dress is thirty years old, if a day. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. ’ ‘Then leave me to guard myself, and do not ask me questions any more,’ she snapped, and crouched down suddenly, searching about for her dagger. He was daring enough to have seized and carried him off before the whole congregation, but he preferred waiting. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces.
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