An ancient smile lay on his lips. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. “Annabel?” he exclaimed. “But I—I went to Nigel Ennison for help. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. Your family has not sullied itself by dabbling in it, at least not 173 from what I know, so now is not the time to begin. ” “Is it necessary,” he said, “for me to tell you——” “Stop, please,” she said firmly. Tell me exactly what has happened. “I will not have this slavery,” she said. Not for me. Don’t say anything, she thought to herself, say nothing more, Martin.
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