He could still feel the coldness of her hand when he had touched it and the way that her fingers had trembled beneath his.
“Drink a little more champagne,” he suggested. “I think you need it.”
Thalia obeyed him. At the same time she felt such a surge of relief sweeping over her that she had no need of champagne and after the anxiety and misery of the day it was as if she was suddenly enveloped in sunshine.
“Tell me about your book,” the Earl asked.
“Who else knows that I am the – author of it?” Thalia asked.
“Only my friend Richard Rowlands,” the Earl replied, “who discovered your identity.”
“Please – can he be – persuaded not to tell – anybody else?”
“I am sure he will do that if I ask him to. But, as you can imagine, he is longing to confront the members of White’s with the inform
