Chapters (34)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Also by Emma Harcourt
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Acknowledgments
- Copyright
When she reached the last step she was annoyed to see the young man beside her still. ‘I thought you had tired of insulting me,’ she said, without even giving him her full attention. She was so thrilled to see Pippo running towards her that she cared not, indeed she pitied him.
‘I have not forgotten the way you shamed me last time—a crippled Devil-girl talking to a gentleman like that.’
Luna laughed and spoke without thinking. ‘You are no gentleman.’
The words were barely out before she realised her mistake; he was stood so close she felt the puce of his face might burn her with its intensity. He thrust his hand behind her and grabbed her buttocks, pressing his fingers into her in an ugly and unholy way. Luna stiffened and felt the blood drain from her face. Her mind blurred and for a moment she lost sight of the daylight in her shame. She lifted her walking stick and struck him across the shoulder as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards.
Then Pippo was there and Luna grabbed hold of his hand and steered him away. She heard voices but did not look back. Her face was flushed and she was in danger of crying out but she breathed deeply to calm herself before reaching her parents.
As she drew closer she saw her father talking rapidly and remonstrating with Signore Palagio. Please God, she silently prayed, let them not have seen.
*
The rest of the day, Luna moved about the house with the burn of the boy’s vulgar fingers on her flesh. The shock of the assault was still in her body. She shook at every sound and her head throbbed mercilessly. She was too ashamed to go to her step-mamma, and Papa had not returned home with them in the carriage. Luna sat on her bench and let her hands rest on the marks of the wood, but she shivered uncontrollably and, after only a short while, had to rise and find a woollen cloak to wrap about her shoulders. As she walked, she felt a shameful twinge. There was no one behind her as she climbed the stairs yet she turned suddenly at the creak of a board and again only moments later.