So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. But I am not worthy to be any man's wife —far less his wife. ‘It is in no way your affair, monsieur, and you will unhand me at once. If you recall, Gianfrancesco’s second cousin had been ransomed by a family they had feuded with for hundreds of years. I must go somewhere into hiding, a long, long way off. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window.
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