“Edith Worms, of Wormwood Abbey.” She took my hand briefly. “And your unusually tall chaperone?” she asked a little dryly, indicating Simon. I ignored this absurd appellation—I didn’t require a chaperone for a walk in the mountains. “This is my cousin, Simon Drake of Drake Hall.” “Why have I never heard of either of these places?” she demanded rather rudely. Perhaps she thought manners were only for people that didn’t look like Helen of Troy. Perhaps Helen of Troy thought so, too.
