Oh man, Richard is such a ... "Richard".
At length he spoke quite steadily. ‘So the child is dead. What would it have been? A girl?’
‘A boy.’ And Christian, with compassion, told him the surgeon’s story.
When she had finished, he laughed. At the tone of it, Sybilla cried out, and he rounded on her.
‘But this is genius! My irrepressible little brother … the infallible Lymond, with success at the end of each of his pretty fingers … You say you know where to reach them?’
By now Sybilla must have known what was coming, but she spoke steadily. ‘I said that if you would give up your hunt for him, I should probably manage to trace Mariotta for you.’
‘And what possible use,’ said Lord Culter, ‘would Mariotta be to me?’
‘For God’s sake, you foolish man!’ said Christian, and jumped to her feet. ‘Give the situation at least the amount of unprejudiced thought you’d give to one of your damned pigs in farrow. What possible misdemeanour can be expected from a woman at death’s door through childbirth? And why blame your brother? You ought to be damned glad that surgeon was called. If Lymond’s all you say he is, he’d have gone about it like Hephaestus with a hatchet.’