Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. I too can see it. But I will not be engaged as ‘Alcide’ or advertised under that name. 32 The curtains and tapestries had appeared over the windows before Marina had died, growing moldy from the dampness and the oils of lavender, clove, and clary sage soaking them. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile.
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