She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. He propped himself up on one arm, kissing her passionately. I did not lay any traps for her. Anna raised her eyebrows at the sight of him. It was a pity people had to eat food. She had known that Remenham House would be deserted, for Martha—released, as she had carefully explained to her charge, by her vows to God from servitude and obedience to Nicholas Charvill, a mere mortal—had begun a correspondence with a friend of her youth, Mrs Joan Ibstock, née Pottiswick. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid.
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