I know I hurt the others, I know I made them suffer… I was punishing them for not being you. ftly as a light beam through everything that separated them—cold and dispassionate, straight into her soul. A french window opened, and Elizabeth—a passable imitation of Marie Antoinette—came out onto the terrace. ' At that she tore herself out of the chair—away from his eyes—but there was nowhere to go.
Idiot, said Ilona with a mixture of affection and contempt. I'm sorry, sir, he said, stepping away with a self-conscious, dipping motion. Charlotte's disappointment flared into anticipation. His words, the warm glow of his eyes, brought her close to tears.
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