She brought the unconscious man down. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. I trust you will not accuse me of discourtesy if I express my pleasure that henceforth our ways will lie apart. He was into the passage in time to see her slip into another chamber at the end. She could tell that he was furious in that instant.
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