She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation. ’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. “Lady Ferringhall, sir. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. Did I not say so, Hilary?’ Melusine’s glance shot across to the newcomer, and found a petite blonde standing there, very fashionably attired in a velvet mantel over an apple-green robe, the furred hood framing a face alive with mischief.
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