Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. ‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, pervert?” “Yes sir.
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