“Well, not exactly prone. He cleared his throat, turned his back, and then peered with care over his right shoulder. “Mademoiselle Gayarre?” Isabelle did not answer. Rather, she turned her head, presenting him with a rather mussed-up braid that had begun to come uncoiled. “Begging your pardon, Isabelle,” he said while struggling to keep from laughing, “but I believe I sent you to fetch a mallet and chisel. Did you find either?” A muffled “No” drifted toward him. “Pray tell me, then, are you seek...ing them beneath the shelf?” He stepped over Isabelle to retrieve the lacquered Chinese sewing box. He’d fetched it all the way from the Orient thinking to have a brief visit with his mother before secreting William away. Now he stared at it rather than at the woman still motionless on the floor. “The orb has rolled underneath,” she finally said. “I’m sure it will roll out of its own accord once the seas are sufficiently rough.” He placed the box on the bunk. “I have my back to you, Isabelle, and I shall not turn until I have your permission.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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