“She tried to go back to sleep again—quarter to six was far too early—but her mind was restless. At first she contemplated Charlotte’s evening with the Danvers. Who was the mysterious woman in the cerise gown? Probably just an old love of Julian’s he had been indiscreet enough to entertain under his father’s roof. No, that would not do. No man with half an ounce of intelligence would do such a thing, and by Charlotte’s account Julian Danver was quite a presence. She had spoken of him with some a...dmiration and said she completely understood why Veronica York should wish to marry him. And Charlotte could never abide a fool, even though she imagined she was tolerant. There was another answer: either Julian, or Garrard, was a traitor, and the woman in cerise was the spy who had turned the man’s loyalty. It was simply coincidence that she had not been seen since Robert York’s death—she had been more careful, that was all. No, that was silly too. If the woman in cerise had had nothing to do with Robert York’s death, why bother to think about her at all?MoreLessRead More Read Less
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