Wood. Martin’s crush. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. Don’t, don’t say anything now, not anything. ‘Come,’ she called. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. "You've given me more than the amount, Sir Rowland," he said, after he had twice counted them, "or I've missed my reckoning. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. It has. Wood, in indignant surprise. Ran in the family.
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