Anne said. “In itself, no,” Ruan agreed. “But the concatenation of what we know is ever more damning.” Anne finished her bite of hot cross bun. It was excellent. Warm and buttery, comforting to her inconstant stomach. Devon drank the last of his tea and took a second bun. “One of these days, Cyn,” Devon said, “I will steal Jubert from you.” “You are welcome to try.” “What will you do about this, this supposed tryst of Richard’s?” Anne asked while Devon, rolling his eyes heavenward, took a mouthful of Jubert’s exquisite version of an English staple. “Go, of course.” Ruan took her measure. Once, and not so long ago, that look would have had her pulse racing with fear rather than desire. Devon casually wiped his fingers on a linen napkin. “Shall I come along?” “No,” said Ruan, thinking Anne looked tired. “I need you to keep an eye on Thrale. In case it’s a trick.” “I tell you, so far the man lives a monk’s life.” Devon rose with a sigh. “I don’t know why I bother.
