” Ann Veronica picked a cornflower. . She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. “Um, I really shouldn’t tell you this, but he said. . ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens.
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