It would've been heaven spending the night dancing with her.It was then that I notice her puffy-red eyes. Damn! She really had been crying. I went to ...er and hugged her."Lizzie? What's wrong?"Her body was stiff. She didn't return my embrace."Josh, what's going on? What's all this stuff?" Just something I planned. But seriously, why are you crying?"She pushed me away at this and stared me in the eyes. There was a gleam in the hazel. Was it anger? Happiness? Tears? I had no clue."'Planned'? You. Three days in the company of cousin Sara was, without exaggeration, a nauseating prospect. By five o’clock, on that Friday afternoon, having arrived and washed, I was taking tea with my aunt, and Sara. The mood over tea was sombre; I got the distinct impression that my presence was considered an imposition. Eventually, tea was over and I was told to go to my room and unpack. The room that was to be mine for the next few days was, beyond doubt, the most dreary I had ever seen, although. You have no delusion that your beloved is faithful, but he is a loving lover, and as much as he loves to love the fair maidens of the land, you know he loves you even more, and if it's practice that made him so, you only welcome it. You hear his carriage in the distance, and run to the balcony in your thin silk dress, waving to him as he enters the castle gates.You run down to greet him, and jump into his arms. And while still wearing his heavy chest plate, he carries you up the stairs to the. Susannah (Susannah! Of course!) watched him. His bare back, tightly muscled, with a single, overgrown mole among the constellations of minor blemishes. His breathing, slow and careful as he spoke. Then a little shorter, harder. ‘Yes, this is he. No, I was not aware of that. He did? Really? Not Lyla?’ Lyla? And who, pray tell, is Lyla, thought Susannah? She’d shadowed this brilliant man for six months, moving around the world with him, listening to his speeches, proofreading his newspaper.