She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. I love him!" She was weak and dizzy: from horror as much as from physical exertion. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. The only thing that was louder to her was the beating of his heart. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. “There were some Hampshire Pellissiers. “We parted— that night the best of friends.
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