‘I apprehend, my love, that Fanny is referring to your son.’ A blank look came into Léonie’s face. ‘Dominique? But –’ She stopped and looked at Fanny. ‘No,’ she said flatly. Lady Fanny was hardly prepared for anything so downright. ‘Lord, my dear, what can you mean?’ ‘I do not at all want Dominique to marry Juliana,’ Léonie explained. ‘Perhaps,’ said Lady Fanny, sitting very erect in her chair, ‘you will be good enough to explain what that signifies.’ ‘I am sorry if I seemed rude,’ Léonie apologised. ‘Did I, Monseigneur?’ ‘Very,’ he answered, shutting his snuff-box with an expert flick of the
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