She had become unashamed of her nudity, altogether unfocused on her appearance. Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. The man could put a bullet through her before she could hope to reach any one of them. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. ‘But you have told them that I have been disguised, no? That I have broken into Remenham House, and—’ ‘No, no, child, don’t be alarmed,’ said her great-aunt, her tone soothing. Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. Just an idea of mine. Wood. Just me and another girl named Krista who turned eighteen and left right about when I got there. ” “Yet you are very young. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself.
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