” “Hampstead didn’t suit Lady Ferringhall,” Ennison remarked. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. There you are, the best client’s chair. ‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration. He had not considered this aspect of the business. ’ ‘Lucilla,’ gasped Hilary, his cheeks reddening with wrath. That’s why he was so annoyed, you know. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was.
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