*Isolde*
Brielle deserts miss Cecily and trots over to my side, giving me a little pinch. “What on earth are you doing, making fun of the Alpha prince?” she whispers. “He hasn’t a squint!”
“Our driver was found in the ditch quite uninjured,” miss Cecily says, “and my dear, he reeked of gin. Reeked! A knavish type he must be, soaked in drink. If it had been up to him, we could have died right in the carriage and been eaten by vultures.”
“Eaten while still in the carriage?” the Alpha prince remarks. “That would be quite unusual.”
“It’s a wonder we didn’t drive straight into a river! Or into a mail coach. We should have examined his fingernails before we entered the carriage. Were you aware that a man who has a slightly longer fingernail on the little finger is invariably an inebriate?”
