And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. ’ Melusine threw her hands in the air. "I would have done more, if necessary. One day I can be a Gothic chick, and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth.
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