CHAPTER NINEWhen Rowena opened her eyes again she saw the woman coming towards her, carrying a European dress in her arms, which she threw onto the bed.
She thought the woman might be forty, or even older. She must have been pretty when she was younger. Perhaps she too had come here as a prisoner, and there was a chance of appealing to her.
“Who are you? What is your name?”
The woman smiled. “My name is Anita,” she said. “I am French, and was once a governess.”
Her English was jerky, as though she had difficulty in remembering.
“Then how did you come here?” Rowena asked.
Anita smiled. “I very pretty and the Sultan like me very much.” She added, almost as if she was speaking to herself. “He – very fond of me – until I grew older.”
“The Duke who I was with yesterday will be very, very
