Lightheaded, she threw up in the courtyard of the Palazzo as servants crowded her in alarm. This is retribution. Fire; she was full of it. Here was a thundering blow. Teenage boys never change, she thought to herself. ’ Speeding down the two flights of stairs, Gerald mentally thanked God that it was the practice of himself and Roding—in case of emergency, of which this was a prime example—to stable their horses at the posting inns all the way to London. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. Lucia had never been so happy, so content.
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