The chain, which had been partially cut through, snapped near the staple. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. “We have no airs and graces here, and my hat hangs from a peg in the passage. There was only one prisoner in the ward. ‘How could you possibly know it?’ ‘I know it,’ Lucilla told him frostily, ‘because Dorothée told me that Madame Valade went off with Gerald positively purring in her ear—which is a thing he never does—and came back with him looking like the cat after cream. One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. She spent many days in the castle alone as he busied himself with his alchemy, or traveled to Florence to visit his remaining political connections. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands.
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