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” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. ‘Mademoiselle. It was a sovereign easily earned. Not a word had been exchanged between the two boys on the road. ’ ‘Very much so,’ Gerald said, matching her tone, and at once forced the discussion back to his own point of interest by adding, ‘I was particularly struck by those poor Valades. Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair. You truly are your mother’s, Lucia.
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