There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. ‘It looked to me as if he was playing games with Madame Valade,’ Lucilla said frankly. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. She had to exert tremendous energy not to sniff the air for his blood. The rejection caught him like a slap in the face. ‘Dear me.
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