She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk. She hated the manor. Even the horns were easing into the concept and the woodwinds in the second movement were particularly well-orchestrated. “I want two words—with Miss Pellissier alone,” Hill pleaded. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches. At that a new element poured into her excitement, an element of wild disgust and terror.
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