She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. God knows how you did it. Of course Nicholas was bound to give her a French name. This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open. “I am sorry for the way I acted, Lucy. ‘What a fate he finds for me. “Okay. I do not care in the least. “I am in love with you. ” “How old-fashioned of you, Lucy. Leonardo he was my—’ ‘Don’t say it,’ Gerald cut in hoarsely.
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