‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good. He has no imagination, no real generosity. “Sydney is quite right, Miss Pellissier,” he said. Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck. She saw his finger pull back on the hammer of the gun and shrieked a warning just as Jack launched himself forward and Gosse turned and fired. I was once a disciple of Saint Peter myself, and speak from experience. I quickly ingratiated myself to Gianfrancesco, playing on his insecurities, drawing from his need for more and more power. ’ She sniffed and swallowed.
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