Not a family. Not even a couple. Fury sat down at her gilt-framed mirror. It was early evening and she needed to restore some semblance of order to much more than her tangled hair.
Flint in the copper bath tub wasn't what her eyes should dwell on right now. All the same, they did. If they weren't even a couple, why had she let him spend the day here? To prove they weren't? Because she was madly, passionately in love with him?
Because she wasn't spending money on a carriage three times a day? Six, if she counted the return journey. And after all, she was in charge, wasn't she? He'd go back to Frau Berthe's soon enough.
Because this morning in the garden had been everything she remembered of Flint? No lingering looks. No endearments. Only straight, thank you ma'am s*x, which even with Fli
