‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. Then perhaps it is Prudence?’ ‘Oh la la! That is not me at all. "As long as I live, I'll never forget that dress of hers," Prudence declared.
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