Chapter OneIn which Mrs. Weyden's warnings go Unheeded."Tout vient à celui qui sait attendre,"
muttered Frederica d'Avillez. Her tone made it sound more like a curse than a proverb. It was, she supposed, just a remnant of some long-ago French lesson which now kept repeating itself over and over in her head until it became maddening, rather like that big green and yellow bird she'd once seen swinging on a wire in a Piccadilly shop window. All comes to him who knows how to wait.
What a bloody stupid saying. And an egregious lie, too.
At the stable door, she stared grimly into the night for a...