Devin doubted if he’d ever seen a man so obviously happy to be where he was. It must have shown in the amused irony of his glance, for Rovigo, catching the look, shrugged. “Daughters,” he lamented, sorrowfully shaking his head. “‘Ponderous cartwheels,’” Devin reminded him, looking pointedly at the merchant’s wife. Rovigo winced. Alix, laughter-lines crinkling at her temples, had overheard the exchange.
