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"I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. ’ Gerald reached out and took her hand, enclosing it between both his own. Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. If Thames is murdered, you are his assassin. 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. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie.
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