She stared back at him.“Great heavens,” he said, “who the devil are you?”“I, sir, am Valantina Moondusst, and I would ask you not to speak to me in that tone of voice.”Sheremy’s mouth remained open. The woman was pretty, damned pretty, with big dark eyes and black hair down to her shoulders; if rather too forward for his liking. He took a deep breath and said, “You’ve taken a risk coming out into the street without a chaperone. This place is deadly, ma’am.”“A chaperone?” Valantina replied. She sounded almost scornful. “Times are changing. Some women have their own minds, you know. Their own ways.”“Yes, quite,” Sheremy said, not a little embarrassed. The woman must be some sort of Suffering activist. Inconvenient...“Though I do thank you for rescuing me,” Valantina continued. “I lost my footing, and, as you may know, once you are beneath the hair it is difficult to resurface.”“That fate has yet to befall me. But I’m glad to make your acquaintance – I’m Sheremy Pantomile, independently wealthy of Gough Square.
