If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. I am aware that you ran away from there, but—’ ‘Certainly I ran away,’ she said, meeting his gaze with defiance in her own. It is repulsive. Michelle was laid onto the back seat, her head cradled in Lucy’s lap. “I said you were”—he shouted—“NOT TO GO!” She made, and overdid, an immense effort to be a princess. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance.
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