"Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together. " O'Higgins threw out his chest, gave it a pat, and smiled. Sebastian was physically beautiful, she reflected. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. My name is Armytage—Lord Ernest Armytage.
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