Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. ’ ‘That was hardly the impression I got,’ Gerald murmured, remembering Melusine’s attitude to Leonardo. She had behaved in every way perfectly. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. The vicomte has, he say, enough femmes in his hands. ‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald. I had not seen the courtyard in many years and I was happy to dream of those times.
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