‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. You are in the hands of a wicked, a terrible man, who will not stop till he has completed your destruction. Brendon,” Anna said. In stature, he was short and stumpy; in person, corpulent; and in countenance, sleek, snub-nosed, and demure. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. I can't spare you at present.
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