“All your bidding is in that.”
“Will you?”
“I will clear—Burr.”
Madelon slipped her knife away, and stood back. Margaret Bean slunk farther around past the bedpost. Neither of them could see her.
“On one condition,” said Lot Gordon.
“What?”
“That you marry me.”
Madelon gasped. “You?”
Lot laughed faintly, stretching his ghastly mouth. “You think it is an offer of wedlock from a churchyard knight,” he said.
“What are you talking about, Lot Gordon?”